Chapter 27 #2
One of the many elephants in the room rears back and trumpets thunderously. I knew Matt knew. I knew my sister knew. I assumed someone had told Austin. Absolutely figures that he’d been tactful enough to not beg for answers until now.
“You mean how she … died?”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but I feel a little weird being here and not knowing the whole story.”
“Well, it started because Babe got diagnosed with MS last year.”
He emits a compassionate sound.
“Yeah. She’d been having symptoms for a long time, but we didn’t know what it was. I feel really bad now, because I was so impatient with her at times. I just thought she was drunk or stoned. She would slur or space out, totally forget things we talked about. I thought it was just more Babe stuff.”
“That’s fair,” he concedes.
“She was tired a lot. Then she wouldn’t go to the doctor, and we fought about that. Finally, she went and when she got back, she told me the doctor told her everything was fine.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No. She told Sammie about the diagnosis. Not me.”
“Shit.”
I find myself leaping to their defense, even though I’m mad at both of them. “She didn’t mean to tell her and not me, I don’t think. Sammie showed up at her house and it was impossible not to tell her. Apparently. Things had taken a really bad turn by then.”
I don’t want to get into the details. I want to preserve the dignity my mother was so hell-bent on protecting, and I also don’t want to picture it.
“I worked at a camp in Michigan for a while, this tennis academy. One of the mothers had MS, and I got to know her pretty well. I have some limited knowledge of it. Really hard.”
“Right.”
“So … when she died?”
I take in a shuddering breath. This is where it gets even harder.
“She became pen pals with this woman in Switzerland. She’d vacationed here, god knows why, and in theory they were teaching each other their respective languages.”
“Would this be the extremely bilingual Giulia?”
“Yes.” I allow a laugh. “She’s a nurse there at a Death with Dignity facility.”
Austin’s face falls.
I go on. “Giulia connected Babe to the right people. And then it became this whole thing. Sammie was emotional about it but also supported her, said it was up to her and that everybody deserves the right to”—I catch my breath, which is coming unevenly now—“that choice. Which, you know, in a talking-at-a-dinner-party kind of way, I agree with. The more rights for freedom and autonomy we have, the better.”
“Yeah, ’course.”
“It’s different though, when it’s your mom.” I swallow. “I wasn’t trying to be on the opposite side of some kind of sociopolitical argument from them. I just thought…”
My words die there. I’ve never known exactly how to say it.
“She’s your mom. You didn’t want to lose her.”
“Right. I think it was a little rich coming from me, considering how little I talked to her and never visited and … I don’t know.”
“You all had trouble hearing each other sometimes.”
His input is not based on nothing. He heard, for years, about every little fight, every disagreement. Saw some, firsthand. And on top of that, liked me, understood me, and knew where I was coming from. Knew that I was well-intentioned. Believed me, even when it felt like they didn’t.
I’ve missed being around someone like him, someone who got me so well that they could give me the benefit of the doubt.
Well. Not just someone. Him. I’ve missed being around him.
“I just thought she’d change her mind. And I didn’t want to argue with her or with my sister, so I pulled away. Next thing I knew, I got that fucking invitation in the mail.”
Sammie hadn’t even called me. I guess she’d given up by that point.
“Wait, that’s how you found out?”
“Yup.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. The familiar feel of his big hand wrapping around mine sends a wave of comfort through me.
“Damn, dude.”
For some reason this makes me laugh. “Sorry. It’s just funny when you get so bro-y.”
“All right, wiseass.” He squeezes my hand once and then lets go. “Switzerland. Aren’t there places to do that here, now?”
“Yeah, well. Would you rather die in America or Switzerland?”
I see the dimple in his right cheek. “Fair enough.”
“Excuse me.”
We both turn at the unfamiliar voice and I see a face I vaguely recognize. A ginger-haired guy, tall and thin. If my hair is the color of deep copper, his is the color of orange marmalade. Looks a little like Domhnall Gleeson, but I don’t think that’s why he rings a bell.
“Oh, hey man, shit.” Austin stands and brings him into a hug. “How you been?”
“Good, good. I took over my dad’s store. He retired last year. Living up to the name of the place.” He smiles awkwardly. Then to me says, “Hey, Didion. I’m so sorry to hear about Babe.”
Then it hits me. Harrison, Taylor Rae’s brother. Once chubby with braces and weird hair, he’s now lean and good-looking. His dad’s store is Ennis & Sons Hardware.
“Harrison, hi,” I say. “Long time. You look—” I don’t know how to pay his after a compliment without also insulting his before, but he saves me.
“Less like a squat, rotund, forgotten Weasley?” he asks.
I laugh in surprise. “I wasn’t going to say that.”
But … yes, exactly. Austin and I exchange a look that means just that.
“I was actually—I was actually just getting ready to go stop by the house. Is uh, is Sammie around?” Harrison looks suddenly nervous.
“So you … didn’t come by yesterday?” I ask, though I know the answer.
“To your place?” Harrison looks mystified. “No, gosh, I haven’t been there since the last barbecue your mom had. Sammie was there but I barely talked to her. She looked great.”
“Yeah, she does,” I agree, narrowing my eyes at him.
Harrison totally loves Sammie. That’s a twist.
“Is she seeing anyone?” He looks embarrassed for asking.
“I don’t think so,” says Austin. “You should come by. Hey, why don’t you come for dinner tonight?”
I kick Austin under the table and he doesn’t flinch, but my toe instantly throbs. It’s like kicking a statue.
“Really?” he asks. “I’d love that. But I-I don’t want to intrude.”
Austin waves it away. “We’ve got plenty of time together. I think she’d love to see you.”
“If you’re sure. Can I bring anything?”
“Just yourself,” Austin says, at the same time as I say, “Alcohol.”