“She’s been here every day,” he adds softly.“Taking care of me.Taking care of Grayce.Be nicer to her, Atlas.She deserves it.”
I look away, shame biting, and find myself giving him what he needs.“Yeah, sure.I’ll be nicer.”
He gestures weakly.“Sit closer.I don’t want to shout.”
I move closer and he pats the side of the bed.I gingerly sit on the edge and note that the change in him is worse.His hands tremble where they rest on the blanket.His breathing is shallow.
“Remember when we egged Old Man Johnson’s porch?”Gray asks, amusement tugging weakly at the corners of his mouth.
The memory makes me huff out a laugh, though it catches in my chest.“I remember you bolting like the devil himself was after you and leaving me standing there with a carton of eggs in my hand.”
“You were too slow,” he rasps, his eyes glinting.
“I was slow because you shoved me, asshole.I face-planted right into his poison ivy-infested bushes while you took off down the street.”
He gives a hoarse chuckle that turns into a cough, but there’s still humor in his gaze.“Worth it, though.The look on Johnson’s face…”
I can see it even now—the porch light flicking on, the old man roaring as yolk dripped down his screen door, me scrambling out of the hedges with twigs in my hair and Gray doubled over laughing halfway down the block.
“Yeah, worth it for you,” I mutter, shaking my head.“You didn’t get a weeping rash all over your arms and hands.”
His lips twitch again, softer this time, and for a moment it’s like we’re twelve again, just two dumb Buffalo boys raising hell on Halloween night, not sitting here in a room that smells like rubbing alcohol, waiting for the clock to run out.
But the moment doesn’t last.
“What are the doctors saying?”I ask, my voice low.
Gray exhales slowly.“Weeks.”He pauses, meets my eyes.“But between you and me?I don’t think I’ve got long.”
My throat burns.“Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.”His hand shakes as he reaches for mine.I don’t hesitate to grasp it, hating how bony it feels.“Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Look after her.”
My eyebrows knit together in confusion.“Who?”
Gray shakes his head, a frown in place as if he’s trying to explain it but isn’t doing a great job at it.“She’ll be alone in this world and she needs someone.”
He must be talking about his daughter, Grayce.Barely a year old.Her mother died in childbirth and now her father is almost gone.
I start to ask what he means, but his eyes are already fluttering shut.“Hey,” he says weakly.“I’m really tired and am going to take a little nap.Can you stay awhile?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, but I have no idea how long a nap is to him.Hopefully he’ll wake up before I have to leave.I have no clue if I’ll be able to get back to see him again and I feel an immense sense of doom hanging over me.
Exhaustion pulls him right under and within seconds, he’s asleep, leaving me with the words ringing in my head.Look after her.
Maddie?Grayce?Both?I don’t know.
I sit there a while, staring at him, the weight of the inevitable pressing down on me.I gently pull my hand free of his and make my way back to the living room.
Maddie’s there, folding laundry.She doesn’t look up as I enter, just keeps at it, methodical and precise.The dark circles under her eyes are stark against her pale skin.Her mouth is drawn down, her shoulders tight.Grief hangs on her like a second skin.
Gray’s words echo in my head.Be nicer to her.
I lean against the doorframe, watching her.Yeah, she looks as exhausted as Gray and I can’t imagine what it feels like to not only be Gray’s caretaker, but to watch him wither away, day in and day out.
