“You can tell me,” I say. “Or not. Whatever helps.”
George is quiet for long enough that I begin thinking he decided tonot. But then…
“She got an inner ear infection. Took antibiotics, but something was permanently damaged and left her with chronic vertigo.” He hands me the frittata pan, and I dry it mechanically, hooked on his words. “Other than that, she was completely healthy. But she couldn’t fly. Couldn’t take the boats out. She crashed her car into a pond because of an episode.” George’s voice is flat, as if he’s tucked away every last bit of his emotions in order to relate this story. “She made it out of that but couldn’t ignore the issue. Someone else might have made adjustments to their life. But my mom…she couldn’t deal.” He takes a moment to wring out the sponge before relating the final detail. “She died by suicide six months after her driver’s license was revoked.”
Hell. Not at all what I had assumed.
George’s mom didn’t die doing something she loved. She died because she couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” I say, once again feeling like the words are inadequate in the face of his tragedy.
And yet, I also feel a kinship with the man. An understanding of what must have led up to his mother’s passing.
Because for years, I watched helplessly as my mother battled her own mental demons. I would spend all my time making sure that she kept on living, even as the world grew pointless around her.
As she sank deep into depression brought on by her repeated medical issues.
There’s no easy cure for that kind of sickness. No quick fix when someone’s brain is telling them life is hopeless. I don’t even know how many times I was on the cusp of experiencing the same loss as George. Marge tried to keep the worst of it from me.
But I’ve always known.
“She would have liked you,” he murmurs.
My entire body stiffens, and I press my lips together hard to hold back the automatic response that comes to my lips.
I doubt that.
Harriet Bunsen was one more member of the BBN royalty, and I’m sure she would have preferred to keep me far away, just like every other member of the corporation.
But George is in the middle of a grief anniversary, and if he wants to remember his mother as a benevolent figure who would have enfolded the Newton bastard into her arms, then fine. I’ll let him have that lie to comfort himself.
We finish the dishes without speaking, staying quiet until Shawn reappears, freshly showered with his trademark isn’t-the-world-great? smile.
“Any chance you have time to get some doughnuts from the place around the corner?” my brother asks, hope in his voice.
If only. I’d love to have a lazy Saturday full of doughnuts and mimosas and wandering around the city with Shawn.
I shake my head. “Rain check. I’ve got to get to work.”
He pouts but then ruffles my hair. “Fine. Run away from my offering of sugar.”
“I’m heading out, too.” George shoulders his overnight bag and turns to me. “I’ll walk you out.”
Don’t read anything into this, I command my hormones.We’re simply moving in the same direction.
Still, my body ramps up at least ten degrees hotter when we stand in the elevator next to each other. I used to think this was a spacious cab, but the man at my side takes up a lot of room with those broad shoulders of his.
“I can’t believe you turned down doughnuts,” I say when we’re a few floors from the parking garage.
“That place doesn’t serve doughnuts.” George smirks in response to my quirked brow. “They serve mounds of frosting with a little bit of fried dough beneath.” He tilts his body my way. “You think I want to deal with Shawn on a sugar rush?”
I snicker at the idea of my energetic brother getting a turbo boost.
“Seriously,” George continues, voice deadpan, “last time I went, he got something called the Gummy Bear Parade. Ten minutes after eating the grossest thing I’ve ever seen, he decided he wanted to learn parkour and tried climbing the closest building. Got a good ways up it, too, before I peeled him off.”
“Oh no.” My ribs hurt from trying to hold back my laughter. “It sounds like being friends with Shawn means you’re a single dad to a toddler.”
George gives me a put-upon look. “I’m searching for a wife just to split the responsibility.”
