Chapter 22 - Brooks
brOOKS
“One grande venti mocha pistachio something something,” I say, handing Wren a big plastic cup full of some creamy-looking goodness. She laughs as she takes it, taking a sip almost immediately.
“Mmm,” she says. “Perfect.”
“Hey,” I say, “you’ve been in that chair all morning.
Why don’t you stretch your legs a bit?” Her eyes immediately dart to her mom, but I put my hand on hers.
“Don’t worry about her. She and I need some quality time.
I haven’t gotten to make her love me yet,” I say with a wink.
Her mom laughs next to me, and she smiles.
“You’re closer than you think,” she tells me. “And he’s right, hon. Go get a little fresh air.”
She takes in a deep breath then nods.
“Fine,” she says, standing up and taking another sip of her drink. “I’ll be back. Don’t talk about me too much.”
I watch her walk away, and I hear Mrs. Wright chuckle next to me. She whistles.
“How bad is it?” she asks me.
“How bad is what?” I ask.
“How bad are you down for her?”
I start laughing.
Mrs. Wright’s got jokes. And she’s hip.
“Pretty bad, Mrs. W,” I say. “Put it this way: I’m an Everett, and the most life-changing thing that’s ever happened to me was meeting your daughter.”
She smiles, leaning her head back against the chair she sits in.
She has a purple fluffy blanket that Sawyer got for her and matching booties that Evie sent.
I’m really grateful for my soon-to-be sisters-in-law.
They’ve been a constant source of comfort for Wren.
They are navigating this crazy world right alongside us and right alongside Wren.
They are the only two, outside of my brothers and me, who know about the story with Cato.
And they focus on Wren. They are always checking in, and they are always asking her out for sushi or shopping or to the movies.
Wren is thankful, and so am I.
“Well, I think it’s safe to say that you have changed her life a bit too.”
Ha. You have no idea, lady.
Wren hasn’t told her family about her going undercover.
She hasn’t told them anything about my family yet.
She plans to tell them before her story gets picked up, whenever she gets brave enough to pitch it.
She was worried about the added stress it might cause, and she was too afraid to disrupt her mom’s treatment.
I sit back in the chair that’s up against the wall in the treatment room.
There is one window, but the natural light in here is a bit pitiful.
Her infusions are usually six hours long, and then Wren and I have been taking her for a walk around a nearby park before we go back to the apartment I rented temporarily for her treatment.
She is so exhausted after her treatments that we typically push her in a wheelchair. She calls it her stroller, and Wren laughs, but I know it hurts her. The idea of fully switching roles with her mother weighs on her, because it means life as she knows it is over.
“Can we have a real talk for a minute, Brooks?” Mrs. Wright says, leaning over the side of her chair nearest to me. I close the magazine and sit up.
“Of course,” I say. “Anything you want.”
She clears her throat, then she looks up at me. Her eyes are the same as Wren’s. That pretty, deepened brown with big, thick lashes around them. She puts her hand on mine.
“There are not enough words to thank you for all you’ve done for us over these last few weeks, Brooks.
We will forever be grateful to you.” I shake my head, putting my other hand on top of hers.
I go to speak, but she keeps talking. “I met with my oncologist and the lead doctor over the trial. Honey, it’s not working. ”
My eyes widen.
No.
“But you…” I start to say.
“My original tumor has grown, and now there are three others. They think it’s in my blood now, honey.”
I swallow.
Wren, my brain says. You have to stop this.
“But…we can look for another…”
But she just shakes her head.
“Honey, I know you did your research. This is the best chance I had. And I am so grateful that you gave it to me. But this is the end of the road here. I’ll finish up treatment this week, and they will redo my scans. But if nothing shrinks, I’ll be removed from the trial, and then I’ll go home.”
“And then what?” I ask.
“And then I sit with my family and soak in every moment that’s left for me, sweetie.”
My brain is moving a million miles a minute.
This can’t be it. There has to be more options.
But as if she can see my thoughts, she just shakes her head.
“I can’t do any more,” she says. “And I don’t want to waste whatever is left of my life trying to fight this. I just want to be with the people I love.”
I sit back in my chair and nod slowly.
“I understand,” I tell her. “What can I do?”
“Just take care of her,” she says with a smile, but tears are starting to stream down her face.
“She has spent her whole life having way too much on her shoulders. Her father and I did our best, but it’s not lost on me how much she had to cover for us.
She worries about everyone she loves, and that won’t stop when I’m gone one day.
It kills me that I won’t see her get married or become a mother if she chooses.
All the things I’ll miss are front and center in my mind.
But all I ask is that you just be the person she can fall apart with.
If you’re the one she’s supposed to be with, just take care of her. ”
I lean forward, bringing her frail, cold hand to my lips.
“You have my word,” I whisper.