Since my visit to Chicago three weeks back, he’s gone downhill fast.Maddie’s been steady with updates—texts, calls, sometimes photos that cut like knives.I don’t pretend she does it for me, but rather for Gray.I’m sure he asked the same thing of her that he asked of me.Be nice.
Now every time my phone buzzes, my stomach drops, bracing for the call that I know is coming.The one that will tell me it’s over.
The room roars with continued celebration, but all I can think is how quiet it must be in Gray’s condo right now, how still he must be if he’s lost consciousness.Maddie has shared some of the medical details and I know he’s getting enough morphine to keep the pain at bay.I can even envision Maddie sitting beside his bed counting every breath, waiting for the last one.
I shove the thought down and crank up the volume of my own act, tossing towels, teasing Penn about his nonexistent receding hairline, but it does manage to send him running for the mirror.
Anything to keep the mask in place, but when I catch my reflection in the glass of my cubby, the grin looks hollow.For a second, I don’t even recognize the guy staring back—the mask is all anyone sees, but underneath I’m already bracing for the call that’ll break me.Because no matter how much I celebrate tonight, I know what’s waiting for me tomorrow or the next day or maybe even the day after that.
I know the next call I get from Maddie won’t be another update.
It’ll be the one that changes everything.
CHAPTER 2
Maddie
The cursor blinksat me from the half-finished report on my laptop screen.It taunts me, a pulsing reminder that I’ve typed only two sentences in the last hour.Not overly productive, especially since I’ve reread those two sentences about ten times.
Here’s where I am… the driven dedication to my job lost.Hell, I can’t even remember the higher purpose that drove me to be a social worker because none of that is important anymore.
There was a day, before Gray got sick, that it never felt like work.The long hours, the endless reports, the heartbreak of working with kids who had no one.Social work isn’t glamorous, and it sure as hell doesn’t pay much, but it mattered to me.Helping kids in foster care, working with parents trying to reunify with their children, and connecting struggling families with resources to keep them afloat.It fed my soul.
Some days it’s writing assessments for the courts or sitting in on home visits to make sure a child is safe.Other days it’s guiding parents through parenting classes, arranging counseling, or hunting down funding for food, clothing and rent assistance.
Every time I helped a family find resources or eased a child’s fear, it felt like proof that my past hadn’t broken me completely.
That the cycle of abandonment I lived through would not repeat itself on my watch.
Now, I can barely string together the words on a report.My heart feels dead, a precursor of protection to stave off the coming grief that I’m afraid might destroy me.That will most assuredly change my inner being because losing the most important person in your life can’t be good for anything other than destruction.
And I hate that I’m so weak.The families I work with deserve someone fully present, someone committed.The children I help deserve someone who puts their needs above everyone else’s, and right now all I can think about is curling up in a corner and shutting out the entire world.My higher purpose feels like it’s slipping away, just like Gray.
In some ways, it’s been a long two months following Gray’s diagnosis.In other ways, time is flying too fast because, as the doctors predicted, the aggressive cancer will kill him sooner rather than later, and I want more time with my best friend.I never hesitated to step in to care for him and Grayce.I convinced my supervisor to let me work part time from home, but even paperwork feels impossible when every nerve in my body is tuned to the next sound from down the hall.
The alarm on my phone buzzes, sharp and insistent, but it doesn’t startle me.My inner clock had already sensed it was time to give Gray his morphine.I have it set to go off every four hours, just as the hospice nurse instructed me to do.
“Keep him ahead of the pain,” she advised.“Even if he says he doesn’t need it, give it to him anyway.”
I close the laptop and push back from the table, stretching my stiff legs.It’s time to step into my role as caretaker.Whether Gray’s awake or not, whether he asks or not, I won’t let the pain catch up to him.Even if it means gently slipping the drops under his tongue without him ever being the wiser.I do this knowing he’ll sleep so deeply, my days of having beautiful conversations with him are over.I’ve already lost most of him.
I pass Grayce’s room on the way to Gray’s.The door is cracked, so I peek in.She’s curled up in her crib, one tiny hand flung above her head, her lips moving like she’s dreaming.Soft, wispy curls of dark hair halo her angelic face, and if her eyes were open, I’d be staring into her father.At least I’ll have that to hold on to forever, because Grayce will become mine the moment Gray dies.It’s something he feels strongly about, and all those arrangements have already been made.
My throat tightens.Grayce is eleven months old, on the verge of taking her first steps into toddlerhood, and she’ll never remember how incredible her dad was.She’ll never remember how much he loved her.
Gray wasn’t perfect, by any means.Lord knows he didn’t plan on becoming a single father after a one-night stand turned into a baby.But when Grayce’s mom died in childbirth, he stepped up without complaint.He figured it out—bottles and daycare drop-offs and working extra hours to cover bills.I watched him juggle parenthood with spreadsheets and client meetings, watched him fall asleep at his desk with her tucked against his chest.
And through it all, he never once resented her.Never once questioned that she was worth every sacrifice.He adored her and I’ll make sure she knows that every day of her life.
I pull the door shut quietly and keep going, past the framed photos lining the hall—Gray with his arm around Atlas in their teens, Gray giving his daughter a bath, Gray and me with our arms thrown around each other at college graduation.He was my constant.Foster care chewed me up, my own parents failed me and the world seemed determined to let me down, but once he came into my life, Gray was always there.
That’s what terrifies me now.Who do I become when he’s gone?Who will have my back when I’m feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me?
In his room, the drawn blinds mute the light.I don’t know why I’ve done that.It’s not like it would make it difficult for him to sleep and opening them would certainly make things a bit cheerier in here.
But fuck if I want to feel cheerful.
I turn on a bedside lamp and busy myself with the ritual of preparing his medication.I’ve learned to do it almost without thinking—measure out the morphine drops, grab a tissue to hold under his lower lip to catch dribble, check the timing again that I’m at the four-hour mark, double-check the dosage.The rhythm keeps me from falling apart.
