It’s like holding air in my arms. As if Ben is drifting away, piece by piece. And his sobs – they’re silent, as he leans against me and I help him back into the bed where he spends most of his time.
We’re running out of time.
He collapses back with a groan, as I reach for the hand sanitiser and rub it into his hands. When I’m finished, he turnsmy hands over, gripping them. “In the closet, there’s a box. Everything is in there. Documents, identification. Everything you’ll need.”
I focus on his hands, blinking away my own tears. “I never knew you were so organized.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Em.” He croaks the words, but he’s staring up at the ceiling when I look up. “We never even had a chance, did we? You never got to be my girlfriend, not really. Just my caregiver.”
“That’s not true—,”
“You deserve better.” He cuts off my words as if he can’t hear me at all. “You deserve so much better than this shit. We should be traveling, having fun. But you’re stuck here with me, and I’m so sorry. You should have left. Like Jared.”
Frowning, I squeeze his hand. “What do you mean?”
“He left,” Ben whispers. Tracks of tears are trailing down the side of his face, pooling in his hairline as I stop breathing. “He tried so hard, but he knew he couldn’t do it. That’s why he left.”
“He… heleftyou?” I try to keep my voice level, but anger surges inside me. “Thatasshole.”
I take back every sympathetic thought, as I stare at Ben, crying silently on the bed with glioblastoma wrecking his body and his mind. Every kind thought I ever had toward Jared Bennett – I wipe it away.
“I want my brother,” Ben sobs quietly. He curls up, with his hands wrapped around his head. “I need to make things right, Em.”
I’ve spent hours upon hours searching for Jared over the last week. For any sign of him. Trying to get Ben to remember his phone number, only to receive garbled strings of numbers that make no sense.
Time that I could have spent with Ben, instead of trying to track down the brother who apparentlyabandonedhim.
So I don’t have any expectations when I ask him again. “What’s his number?”
But this time… this time, he doesn’t hesitate.
I scramble for my notepad, frantically writing down the number that he repeats twice, before he falls asleep again.
And I stare down at it.
It looks… like a phone number.
Jared Bennett.
21
Emmy
“Emmy?”
I jump as a pair of sensibly shod feet appear in front of me. I’m perched on the communal stairs outside Ben’s apartment, clutching my phone in one hand and the piece of paper with Jared’s possible phone number in the other. Behind me, the door is ajar so I can hear if Ben wakes up again.
“You okay?” Nicole, the hospice nurse, peers down to look into my face. “Has something happened with Ben?”
I blink up at her, and she half-smiles. A sad, sympathetic smile. “Something new.”
I clear my throat. “No. I didn’t realize it was four already. I’ll… get out of your hair.”
Her smile softens into something kinder. “You know, I’m here for you too. Caring for someone in Ben’s condition – and on your own – it’s exhausting, Emmy. You need to take care of yourself too.”
“He’s dying.” The words come easier now than they used to. A little steadier. A little more resigned. “I can handle a bit of tiredness.”
Nicole sighs. “At least take a break while I’m here. Stretch your legs. Go for a coffee.”
