18. Ethan
18
ETHAN
L ily breezed out of my room so fast it left me wondering what the hell happened. From what I gathered from the one-sided phone conversation I'd overheard, someone she cared about had done something and was having trouble breathing. I sat on the foot of the bed wondering just who that "someone" might be. A few times over the past several weeks, I had feared she was dating someone else. But Lily was too classy for that. She would never be a cheater.
Which left only one possible assumption. Lily had no brothers, only Kate, her younger sister. Which meant the person struggling with a health issue was most likely her father. I couldn't see Kate getting married, but if she did, I didn't see Lily being the type of doting sister-in-law who would rush off after incredible sex like that without any explanation. Her dad must have been suffering for a while and things took a turn for the worse.
That made me think of my ailing father and Mom, who lay in bed two doors down. She was running a mild fever earlier this afternoon. I had given her some Tylenol to lower the fever and help her body aches. I assumed it was a cold or the flu, and she just wanted to rest. Lily having her own struggles with aging parents only made me feel more connected to her, more in sync.
I put the rest of my clothing back on and decided to check on Mom. It had been long enough that the medication would be wearing off, if it hadn't fully worn off already. She would want me to get her more if the fever hadn’t abated. And she might be hungry or thirsty. Even on her good days, I did a lot of these things for her just because I cared. But when she was ill, I played nurse round the clock, and I didn't mind doing it.
Tapping on her door, I pushed it open. "Just me, Mom." I leaned in and saw her lying on her side looking at me. The light was on low, casting an eerie glow over her face. Long shadows stretched toward her chin, and she blinked slowly.
"I'm awake." She didn't sound like herself. She sounded melancholy, and I knew why. Dad had been in so much pain following his surgery, he hadn't been as communicative. His calls lasted only a few minutes when he even made them, and he could only take visitors for an hour or so before he had to lie back down in bed. She missed him.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, tiptoeing to the nightstand. Mom's glass of water was empty and her lips looked dry.
"I'm tired and my body hurts. I think this cold is kicking my butt." Her usual happy demeanor had been replaced with a sullen expression and sadness. Seeing how she was so depressed over not being able to be with Dad or help him made my heart hurt for her, and for Lily.
I pictured her rushing to the ER to help her father, only to be told to sit down and be the loved one, not pretend to be the doctor. How many times had I been told that myself when it came to my parents? It was one of the most difficult things for a doctor—to know what to do and how to do it, to alleviate your loved one's suffering but being unable to do a thing because of state laws.
"Well, let's get you better." I grabbed a second pillow from the closet and walked to Mom's side. "Being a bit more upright will help your sinuses to drain better and keep the mucus out of your throat. Might even help your coughing to be more effective."
She struggled to sit up while I fluffed her pillow and added the second one, and I made sure she was back in a comfortable position when I was done. "I'll get you some more water and another round of pills."
I started to back away, but she grabbed my wrist. "Stay," she muttered, and I noticed the tears in her eyes.
"Of course." I sat on the edge of the mattress and let her hold my hand. I hated seeing her like this. Not just the sickness, but the sadness. She and Dad had been married for more than five decades. They were each other's everything, and now they were separated and hurting.
"What will I do?" she asked timidly, but I didn't understand her question.
"What do you mean, Mom? About the cold? Or about…"
"About Tom." She blinked, and tears ran down her face. "What if he doesn't make it? What will I do, Ethan? I haven't been alone since nineteen sixty-nine. I don't even remember what it feels like to be alone."
Her words made my heartache worse. A man in my position had so many reasons to run from that question. If Dad didn't make it out of this thing with his hip, I'd have to watch my mother grieve her life partner. She'd be alone and hurting and no one would be here to truly console that pain because I couldn’t replace him.
And I would lose my father too. He might not have always been the perfect father, but I looked up to him and respected him. I knew now as an adult son things I didn't know when I was a child, reasons he made choices for me I didn't like. He lived a hard life before I was old enough to understand what "hard" was. I respected his choices now.
And most of all, knowing my mom was going to end up dying after my father, that she'd be lonely and need me more than ever reminded me that I had no one. No love of my life, no wife, no children, no family. I had friends, but they weren't the sort of people who took care of you in your older years. Friends visit, but when they leave, who takes care of you?
"He's going to pull through. It's the only thing we can allow ourselves to think right now. If we give up hope before he's even had a chance to show us what a fighter he is, we won't be able to be there for him when he needs us."
She pushed herself up a little straighter and shook her head. "I know you're right, but the doctor said some patients never come back. Sometimes they die because the rehab afterward is so difficult. Ethan, I don't want to be alone."
I didn't want to be alone either. I wasn't naive enough to think my parents would live forever, but caring for them the past few years had taken the focus off myself and my loneliness. I wasn't as lonely because I had been busy caring for them. Now I realized that they wouldn’t always be here and that I would be completely alone then. It made those precious moments with Lily seem even more sacred. She was who I wanted to actually grow old with.
"Those people often don't have family or support systems either." I stood and picked up her glass. "And we're here for him. We're going to be by his side as much as the nursing home staff will let us. In a few days, they will force him to get out of bed and start therapy. He'll need us there then. So will they." I chuckled because I knew how grumpy Dad was going to be in pain and being forced to try to stand up.
That brought a small smile to Mom's lips too because she knew him better than anyone. She had loved him for decades and had to tolerate his moody side for far longer than I had.
"I'm going to fill your water up, alright? I'll bring you more medicine and a snack." I headed to the door, but she cleared her throat.
"No snack. I'm not feeling hungry. Just the water is fine."
I nodded at her and walked out the door. The cloud hung over my head as I filled her glass and got her more medication. This whole situation was making my future look very bleak. I didn't want to grow old alone and have no one, and unless I did something about that, it was definitely in my future. It made me want to be reckless and impulsive, but safe.
I wanted to propose to Lily.
We had only just been attempting to work things out, but we had history. We were in love. What we shared years ago was there beneath the surface just waiting to explode into our present and surprise us both. I knew it. I loved her and I didn't want to be without her. I just didn't know how she'd take it. Especially if she was dealing with her own issues in her family.
With the glass full and pills in my hand, I went back to the bedroom where Mom was lightly dozing. She roused when I walked in and gave me the same slow-eyed blink as last time I came in. She looked frail and weak, not the robust, bold woman I remembered. Time had aged her and sapped her of vitality, and I was determined that before life did that to me, I would live it to the fullest.
"Here you go, Mom." I held out the pills, and she held her palm open for me to place them. She took them, but I had to help her steady the glass at her lips before sitting it on the nightstand.
"Thank you, dear." She patted my hand and yawned.
"Mom, can I ask your opinion about something?" I didn't sit this time, seeing that she wanted to rest now. I probably should have just let her rest, but with an idea this insane, if I was being too irrational, my mother would tell me.
"Yes, of course." Her hands folded together over her belly and she leaned her head back on the pillow.
"I want to marry Lily. She has been the one thing in my life that I ever thought was good. I messed it up a while back, but I'm getting this amazing second chance and I don’t want to wait. I want to ask her to marry me. What do you think? Am I crazy?"
Mom's small smile helped me relax as she said, "Well, if you were twenty, I'd think you were crazy. If you were thirty and you didn't know her, I'd say you were crazy." She yawned again and covered her mouth then went on. "But you're forty years old, almost forty-one. You have history with this woman. You love her, that much is obvious. When a man loves a woman at your age, he doesn't take risks or wait around."
It wasn’t exactly her blessing to go for it, but her message was clear. I wasn’t getting any younger. As it was, even if I lived to be ninety, the most I could hope for was to see my children and grandchildren. I had spent too much of my life focusing on my career and making mistakes. I needed a partner now, and to care for me when I was older. Lily was the woman I wanted.
"Thanks, Mom." I leaned down and kissed her forehead and flipped her nightstand light off. Then I let myself out and turned toward my bedroom to get my shoes. Worries about Lily and what she was going through plagued me, and I called her to see if she needed anything, but her phone went straight to voicemail. So I put my shoes on and replaced my tie. I left my phone on full volume, though, just in case she called. And as I drove back to work, I thought about how and when I would propose.
I was going to shoot my shot, even if I missed the target. What could it hurt? If she said no, I could try again later, after we built something magical again. If she said yes, then she was mine forever.