How can this be? Cash is so young. He’s so strong. He has so much left to offer the world. So much left to live for.
It’s not right. Itcan’tbe right!
Blood roars in my ears. Maggie quakes in my arms. All I can think is… No! No, no,no!
But from some deep, dark corner of my mind, a voice whispers,Yes.
I know that voice. I heard it the night the police showed up at my door to tell me my father had died in a terrible car accident. I heard it in the cold, desolate mountains of Afghanistan when an enemy combatant forced my hand. And I heard it again when George Sullivan came out to the swamp.
I can’t see him, but he’s here. Like the monster in my closet when I was seven. He’s Death. And he’s come. For Cash. He’s in Beckett’s words without the doctor actually naming him.
My anger morphs into horror. That’s what death is. That’s what losing someone you love is. It’s a horror. An unspeakable travesty.
My eyes are hot and wet. My voice is tight with emotion I don’t dare release for fear there won’t be any end to it if I do. “How long does he have?”
“His latest MRI shows the original tumor has thrown off a dozen satellite tumors. Quite frankly, I’m amazed he’s lasted as long as he has, but—”
“How long, Doc?”
He adjusts his glasses again. “A few days. Maybe a week.”
“Good God Almighty.” Breath wheezes from me as icy shock sets in, chilling me to the bone and raising goose bumps along my arms.
A week?How?How can Cash have been laughing and giving us hell and drinking beer twelve hours ago, and now he’ll be dead in aweek?
Maggie’s cheeks are streaked with tears. Her face is splotchy. “You knew when we came to see you about his drinking and his pain. You knew, and you didn’t tell us.”
“I advised Sergeant Armstrong against keeping it a secret.” Beckett’s tone is full of regret. “I told him it was better to be open about his prognosis so he could receive the support he needed. But he made me swear I wouldn’t reveal anything until he was near the end.”
The end.How can two seemingly benign words sound so merciless?
“What caused it?” I ask. “Was it on account of his father beating him? ’Cause he took too many punches to the head, or—”
“No.” Beckett shakes his head. “Glioblastoma cells are genetic mutations. They can be caused by exposure to certain chemicals or high doses of ionizing radiation. But most in the medical community agree they’re one of a number of inherited DNA defects.”
Maggie blinks up at me. “All this time, Luc… All this time, we thought he was being selfish and stupid, and he…he…” She doesn’t go on. Shecan’tgo on. She covers her face with her hands and gives in to the sorrow I won’t allow myself to touch on.
I have to keep up the wall that’s holding back my emotions so I can stay strong. For Maggie. For Cash. It’s the only way I’ll get through this without breaking apart.
“I wanna see him,” I say.
“Of course.” Beckett stands and motions toward Cash’s hospital room door.
“Wait.” Maggie jumps to her feet. “I’m coming with you.”
Her expression is ravaged, but she firms her shoulders and lifts her chin. My beautiful, brave girl, ready to face the worst head-on.
I didn’t think I could love her more. Then she blows out a steadying breath, threads her fingers through mine, and says, “Let’s go see our boy.”
The inside of Cash’s room is typical for a hospital. Sparse and functional, it’s as devoid of character as I am of hope. There are no decorations except for the privacy curtain that can be pulled across the room to shield the bed from the door. It’s a faded shade of yellow, hinting that it might have been bright and cheerful once upon a time, a hue that probably reminded folks of sunny days and optimism. Now it simply looks anemic.
There’s the familiar smell of cleaning chemicals and bleach. But underneath it all is the more sinister aroma of death. Of cells dying. Tissue decaying. Again, I’m hit with one thought,How can this be? It’s not fair! It’s not right!
“Why are all hospital rooms this awful shade of off-white?” Maggie complains. “It’s like, in an effort not to offend someone’s stylistic sensibilities, the powers that be choose a color that’s no color at all. And instead of that being comforting, it’s just depressing. I get why people bring flowers. Lord knowssomethingis needed to liven up this space and—”
When I squeeze her shoulder, she stops midsentence. We both know she’s babbling. We both know why. She’s looking everywhere but at Cash.
Her lips tremble when she glances up at me and voices aloud the thoughts in my head. “How can this be happening, Luc? How can he be dying?”
