Winnie says the words softly but resolutely, like I won’t get anywhere if I argue with her. Before I can muster up the courage to ask her if she’s trying to be that person, the towel finally gives way to gravity and falls to the floor. For a moment, we both just stand there. My eyes have a mind of their own, and I look her up and down quickly, and then force myself to stop.
“Sorry,” I mutter, and rub a hand over my eyes.
“It’s fine!” Her voice comes out high pitched. “Nothing worse than what you heard the other night!” And then she scampers around the corner and into the bedroom, leaving her towel behind.
I hesitate in front of the bedroom door, unsure what to say but knowing I need to make this right.
“The appointment is at twelve,” I call out. “We need to get on the road by eleven to make it there on time, and we’ll be picking my parents up along the way. And I’m happy to have you there, Winnie.”
She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I hear the rustle of clothing.
“I’ll be ready to go before eleven,” she finally says. “Now leave me alone so I can recover from my humiliation!”
Her tone is light and joking though, and I know she’s not serious. I can’t help but smile.
When we pickmy parents up, they struggle to hide their surprise that Winnie is with me. My dad gives her a smile, though, and my mom doesn’t object to her being around.
On the way to the hospital, my dad tries to keep the mood light and regales Winnie with stories of his time working on aranch. Winnie asks him endless questions, and I sense that she’s aware he needs the distraction.
“Did you have a favorite horse?” she asks as we come to a stop at an intersection near the hospital.
My dad starts telling her about the Quarter horse he used to ride named Snickers, and Winnie listens and then tells him about all her favorites at the rescue. Rosie is obviously at the top of that list.
“Jonah, you didn’t tell me your wife was a horsewoman!” my dad says in a jovial tone.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say I’m exactly a horsewoman,” Winnie says. “Maybe a horsewoman in training. Candice and Rosie are teaching me a lot.”
I make a left, and we pull into the hospital parking lot. I feel my stomach knot as soon as I see the building, and I immediately hate how familiar it all is. I park by the entrance to the cancer ward like I have a hundred times before, and when I get out of the Jeep, I’m faced with the same grey and blue facade.
My dad gently helps my mom out of the car, because she’s about a foot shorter than he is and it’s a big step down from the Jeep. It makes my heart ache to see them like this: older, grayer, and less healthy than they were a few years ago, but still as in love as ever. I’m not sure my dad would survive without her—I’m not sure he’d want to.
I clench and unclench my fists at my side, and try to get my feet to move. My parents are already walking towards the entrance and I know I should be following them, but I just can’t seem to.
“Hey,” Winnie says softly. “Are you alright?”
I’m not sure how to answer her because fuck no, I’m not alright. I guess she was right about what she said earlier—I’m not very good at letting someone take care of me. I don’t even know how to ask for help.
“If you’re not, that’s okay. I’ll still be here. I’ll wait outside in this parking lot all day if you need me to. We can go in when you’re ready.” She places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently, just once, letting me know that she’s there.
“What if—what if she’s sick again?” I manage to get out.
Winnie doesn’t say anything for a moment. And when she does speak, her words aren’t full of empty platitudes. She doesn’t say that my mom won’t get sick again. She doesn’t try to get me to believe a lie. She just says, “Then we’ll get through that, too. I promise.”
“Okay.”
Winnie’s words get my feet and legs to start working again, and we walk towards the entrance to the hospital. My parents have already disappeared behind the sliding glass doors, and I’m sure they’re wondering where the hell I am. I walk the path to the cancer ward on autopilot, not needing to follow the red lines on the floor for direction. Winnie slips her hand into mine along the way, and the feel of her soft, warm skin keeps me grounded.
Shame floods me as we walk through the doors to the waiting room. If Winnie wasn’t here, would I have found the courage on my own? I’m supposed to be strong for my mother, but today I’ve been anything but. I grip Winnie’s hand harder and follow her wordlessly to where my parents are seated.
The waiting room is exactly like I remember it: cold, uninviting hell. We sit in a line of four, all staring at the front desk wordlessly.
After a minute my mom mutters, “You’d think I was dead already, with the way you three are acting.” When no one responds to her joke, she continues, “Look, I feel fine. Iamfine. This is a routine checkup and there’s no reason to worry until the doctors say there is.”
“You’re right,” my dad says.
“Great, now let’s talk about something else.”
We’re silent again until Winnie pipes up with, “What are you knitting at the moment?”
