“Definitely,” I agree.
We get in the elevator. He doesn’t say anything again until I’m wheeling him across the parking lot toward the car. “She’s crying right now.”
“What? Why would you think that?”
“Because I know Enid better than I know myself,” he says, and there’s such a deep sadness emanating from him it’s painful. “She cries every time we get bad news. She tries to hide it, but I know.”
I help him stand up and then put the wheelchair in the trunk while he leans on the side of the car. I open the passenger door to their car and carefully help him in. It’s fairly easy right now because he still has some use of his legs and can balance a little bit. I say the first thing that always seems to come to my mind. “What can I do to help?”
I stand in the open door as he fumbles for his seat belt, but I don’t help. He can still do this on his own, even though it’s a struggle, and I don’t want to take it away from him. When he’s buckled up he looks me straight in the eye. “I asked Dr. Lack to share future test results with you first. You’re good at looking at this professionally, and I’m going to need you to help me ease them into accepting what’s coming.”
“We all know how this ends, Dad,” I remind him softly. “Dixie works for the ALS Foundation. Jude has done more research that a neurology student and—”
He holds up his hand so I stop mid-sentence, and then he reaches out and grabs my hand and gives it a small squeeze. “Pumpkin, we both know that knowing things figuratively and seeing them happen in reality are different. You’ve seen that yourself with patients’ families, I’m sure.”
He’s right. I have. I’ve watched wives of brain-dead husbands try to rationalize that they only need more time. I’ve watched parents argue with doctors when they’re told their kids are gone. I’ve seen it all.
“Sadie, I’m going to be making decisions that they won’t like, but I need you to stay strong and back me up. I need you on my side,” he tells me. “And to help them cope.”
“Okay,” I say because I knew this day would come. I knew he’d need to count on me. He’s been the person I’ve always counted on, so I am not going to let him down. Even if the idea of it makes me feel like I’m suffocating. What I’m agreeing to means standing by his decisions. Standing by him could mean not only going against my siblings, but against my own selfish heart that wants him around as long as possible, by any means possible.
“Give me a hug, pumpkin.” I lean into the car and let him wrap his arms around me. I close my eyes and absorb every second of it, burning it into my brain, the same way I have since he was first diagnosed.
My phone starts to buzz in my back pocket as I let go of him. I pull it out and am startled to see a text from Griffin. I glance up at my dad and step away from the car. “I’ll be a sec.” I turn my back to him and open the message.
I’m at the coffee shop where our date never happened. Made me think of you. I just wanted to say, hope you are doing well.
I smile but it’s bittersweet. His timing would be perfect if he was my boyfriend because, shit, I could use someone to lean on. I bite my lip and text him back.
Today is a rough one. Nice to have a friendly message. Hope you’re well too.
I glance up and see my mom walking toward the car, so I close my dad’s door and move to hop into the back seat.
“Can you drive home, honey?” she asks as she walks around the back of the car to hand me the keys.
“No problem.” It’s the easiest request I’ve gotten today by far.
My phone buzzes again as I’m about to slip into the driver’s seat. I pause to read the message from Griffin.
If you need to talk, you can call me. I might not be dating material, but I can be friend material.
Oh, if only that were true. I sigh. I want to lie to both of us and say sure, we can hang out as friends, but I would only be giving myself false hope. I feel like trying to deny our attraction or push it aside would become torture really fast. And I’m going through enough right now. I don’t need to add self-inflicted wounds. That was why I didn’t want to date anyone to begin with.
My mom looks at me impatiently. “Sorry. Just a second.”
She gets into the back seat, and I respond to Griffin’s text.
People who kiss like you do are dangerous friends. But I do appreciate the offer. Take care.
I toss my phone into the center console and get behind the wheel. As I pull out of the parking lot and start our journey home, my parents chatter about inconsequential things. I keep stealing glances at my mom in the rearview mirror. Now that my dad has tipped me off, I see the signs. She’s got a crumpled tissue tucked into the sleeve of her sweater. Her eyes look a little too glassy. Her nose is the slightest bit red. I would have blamed it on the chilly weather, but now I know better. And I have to help my dad help her and everyone else through this latest obstacle. I have to focus on that, which is why it’s a blessing in disguise that my timing with Griffin is off. I can’t give my heart to someone when it’s already about to be broken by something else.
9
Griffin
Isee my brother approaching the dock from where I’m sitting on my upstairs balcony, stewing in my thoughts and nursing a neat whiskey.
He’s in his typical attire when he doesn’t have to be in court—ratty jeans with holes in both knees, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. He’s been out of school for almost four years, but you’d think Hunter was a permanent student if you judged him on his fashion sense, or lack thereof.
