It’s beenweeks since Adhira restarted chemo, but with the extra help from her friends and mine, much of my anxiety surrounding her care has faded. I no longer feel like I have to be everything for everyone all the time. When we’re together, I get to enjoy her company rather than focusing on anticipating her needs.
And as much as I adore being with her, I’ve also spent more time alone at the pottery studio, focusing on my health and wellbeing outside our off-season training schedule. Adhira seems to enjoy her solitude, too, and I think it makes each moment we share a little more special, as pathetic as that might sound.
She’s seated on the carpeted floor, legs tucked beneath the coffee table as she polishes a crystal. My phone vibrates beside me. Pulling my eyes from Adhira, the action causes me physicalpain. I answer, and Mum’s face flashes across the screen. “Mum? Everything alright?”
“I’m sorry to call you like this, love. The girls and I are sick with a respiratory something-or-other, and I—” Her voice cracks. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, breathless. “This should never have been your responsibility.” Every word mixes her shame with my anguish.
“Mum, please stop apologising and tell me what’s going on,” I plead, and she breaks off into a coughing fit.
“I’m just so tired, and they won’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do to make it better,” she says, sniffling. I can’t tell if she’s crying or congested, but it breaks me all the same.
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to soothe her. I get up, pacing the floor to burn off the anxious energy pulsing from me. I glance over at Adhira, who’s watching me, head cocked in question. I cover the speaker and whisper, “The girls are sick, and Mum needs advice.” She nods and climbs out from under the table, disappearing into her room.
“What have you tried to calm them down so far?”
“I gave them cough syrup and something for their fever, but the cough syrup seems to have made them more energised, and I can’t keep up. Ellie keeps crying that her throat hurts, and their noses are dripping like taps.”
Adhira reappears with her phone in hand, the other outstretched for me in a silent command. I’ve learned to just go with it, handing it over without question.
“Eleanor?” she asks Mum.
I don’t hear Mum’s side, but Adhira gets to work, explaining the benefits of elderberry syrup for immunity, which nasal spray will dry out their noses, and how to elevate their heads when they sleep to prevent post-nasal drip, which is likely causing their sore throats.God,this woman is so smart. She’s so much more than she realises, and the way she works to calm Mumwhile typing out instructions and attaching photos to a message thread for her is such a turn-on.
When Adhira is done, she hands the phone back to me, resuming her work on the floor as if she hadn’t just saved my mum’s sanity and mine.
My chest warms knowing she cares for my family. I press the phone to my ear, and Mum whispers, “She’s a real-life angel, my love.”
I peer over at the angel in question, stifling a laugh at the look of concentration she's sporting as she finishes with the rose quartz, tongue poking out between her teeth, brows pinched.
“I don’t disagree.” I scrub a hand through my overgrown waves. “Do you need me to head over there for a few days so you can recover?”
She hesitates for a moment. “I really need to learn how to do this on my own, but I’ll keep you posted.”
“If you change your mind, I’m just a call away. It’s important for you to get some rest, too, alright?”
“It feels distinctly like you’re the parent in this situation, and that crushes me a bit, love. I’m sorry you had to lose out on so much because of me,” she says, her voice breaking on the last word.
“Hey, stop that.” I swallow the lump in my throat, staring up at the ceiling while I fight to regain my composure. “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, and everything has panned out the way it was always meant to.”I just wish our reality hadn’t been so bleak.
“You’re a good egg, you know that?”
“Only becauseyouraised me,” I remind her, fondness warming my chest. “Go do whatever Adhira said, and I’ll check in on you soon.”
“I love you, sweet boy.”
“And I love you, Mum.”
I end the call, flopping down behind Adhira with a groan.
“She going to be alright?” she asks.
I chew on my lip, dragging in a strained breath through my nose. “Mum is still adjusting to taking care of the girls alone. She says she doesn’t need me to drive over there, but I think I should.”
She turns to face me, pushing up and taking a seat beside me. She hands me the rose quartz, pressing it into my palm. “I made you a worry stone,” she explains, as if it’s not the unbelievably kind gesture that it is. “And why do you look so concerned about going to help your Mum?”
“Because, Adhira…” I shift closer as I press the pad of my thumb into the cool groove of the stone. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you.”
Her brows crease, and she leans into me just an inch, as if it’s unintentional but her body knows her heart better than her brain. “I could go with you,” she suggests, nearly shocking me out of my seat. I suck in a breath. “But I swear I’ll be fine. Honestly, some time alone would be nice. I appreciate everyone’s help, but I’m a little socially drained with the constant visitors the last few weeks.”
