13. Things Fall Apart
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Things Fall Apart
P aige’s phone rang, shrill and siren-like as it echoed off the empty hospital walls. Dammit. She forgot to turn off the ringer, but really, who could blame her? The past three hours—no, scratch that, the past twenty-four hours—had been a whirlwind that made Hurricane Florence look like a tropical storm. She’d gone from having cancer to being cleared, to deciding she was dating Owen, to breaking up, to having her father fall off his ladder and end up in the hospital, unconscious, her mother a hysterical wreck until about half an hour earlier.
Her mom had looked out over washing the dinner dishes at Alan working on the barn windows, only to put a plate on the drying rack, look back, and not see him. She’d walked— calmly , she’d moaned to Paige in their car on the way to the hospital behind the ambulance—over to the window to find her husband lifeless on the ground, looking like a doll left behind by a toddler. She’d dialed 911, and without missing a beat, Paige in the next moment. All of this she’d shared through sobs while Paige had driven them to the hospital.
Unfortunately, Paige had dealt with the emotional roller coaster with no help from her brother, who she still hadn’t managed to get a hold of.
She flicked the ringer off and swiped across her phone without looking at who it might be. Only two choices were possible at this hour, and based on the breaking-up part of her day, she was pretty sure it wasn’t Owen.
“Finally,” she hissed into the receiver. “Why the hell haven’t you been returning my calls? I know for a fact you weren’t asleep because I woke up the beast trying to find you and she wasn’t pleased.”
She got up out of her seat and paced the halls, letting her mother sleep.
“Paaaaiiiigeeeee,” she heard, followed by a fit of giggles. Had she misread the caller altogether? She pulled back her phone, and sure enough, Brad’s smiling profile picture stared back at her, his number underneath it.
“Brad?”
“Well, who else would it? Would it be?” A loud belch acted as punctuation. Jesus.
“Have you been drinking?” she asked, though she was pretty sure of the answer.
“Juss a liddle.” He hiccupped twice, accentuating the idiocy of the whole night, the whole day prior.
“What the hell, Brad? Did you listen to any of my messages?” Had Paige known her brother had a secret affinity for drinking on a work night, she’d have started her calls with Cowboy Joe’s.
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Couldn’t figure it out. The phone and the dialing and the…” Hiccup. “…answering machine.”
Answering machine? Did he drink himself back to the nineteen eighties?
“Well, Dad’s in the hospital. He fell off the ladder and went unconscious. Where are you? Do I need to come pick you up?”
“Dad fell?” Brad giggled. “Dad fell down?” Hiccup. More giggles.
“Brad!” Paige yelled as loud as she could in the solemn quiet of the near-empty halls. “Get it together. Where. Are. You?”
“In a taxi.”
“We don’t have taxis in Banberry. Are you in Helena ?!” She spat the word like a slur.
“Nope. I’m in an oooooo-ber. Uber. Ha! That’s a fun word.”
“Hand the driver the phone,” Paige demanded. How was she, the one who’d just found out she didn’t have cancer, the responsible one that night? Between her mom and her brother, she felt like she was running a daycare.
“Yep, yep, yep.” She heard his voice getting farther and farther away and then some static that sounded like the phone dropped. Paige pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly.
“This is John. How can I help you?”
“Hi, John. You have my brother, Brad in your car. He’s too hammered to understand that our dad was in an accident and that he needs you to drop him off here, at the Banberry ER. Can you do that, John?”
“I’m not supposed to take people anywhere other than where they put their destination as…” he started to say, but his voice faded and Paige heard retching in the back seat.
“Bring him here, John. You don’t want to be responsible for him getting alcohol poisoning, do you?” Thankfully, he bought the threat.
“Fine, fine. But tell him I’m charging him for getting the vomit outta my back seat.”
“Whatever you need to do, John. See you in a few minutes.”
She hung up the phone and walked outside, her back flat against the outside wall. She took a deep breath of cool air that filled her lungs, waking her up. The brick burned like ice on her shoulders, the night air around her brisk, bordering on cold. The past couple nights threatened an earlier autumn than usual.
Though she’d missed last year’s fall transition, she could recall with vivid clarity the end of summers from her childhood and the way the wind changed, the way the smells in the air shifted, the slight blend of reds discoloring the greens, signaling the aesthetically stunning start of death, of decay.
Now, though, she wished it was warmer so she could linger outside longer. She didn’t want to go back in, didn’t want to be the responsible adult, the physician-on-call with her family. More than that, she wanted time and space to think about the past twenty-four hours. She needed to sort out where she was going to go next—literally and figuratively—without the desperation of her mom or utter ineptitude of her brother. Without the strong and steady arms of Owen and the comfort they promised.
The hospital was otherwise quiet at this time of night, she gave it that. She’d done a stint at the clinic in Turks on the night on-call shift, and there, she’d found a hospital without the hustle and panic and kinetic energy of the day disquieting. It was too damn quiet, a ward of ghosts. The same eeriness enveloped her during her hospitalization post-surgery. After visiting hours, after the surgeons and oncologists had all gone home to their families, when her family had begrudgingly headed back to the farm, all that remained were the ill and the dying, herself included.
It had given her the creeps more than the idea of the mutating cells trying to commandeer her body. Now, though, she welcomed the silence, since she found herself in the no-man’s land where she was neither patient nor professional.
Tonight, she was just the concerned family member, and that was the worst role she’d played in the medical world yet. As a patient it had been hard to sit and wait—for labs, for nurses as they changed over, for the physician to come in off his rounds and answer the millions of questions she’d garnered overnight—but she’d ultimately been able to advocate for herself if she needed to.
Now that it was her dad as a patient, no one would talk to her. She was forced to use her mom as an intermediary, that is, if her mom could stop sobbing long enough to listen to the questions Paige needed her to ask the doctors. At least her mom was resting now.
As if thinking about her mom summoned her, the doors to the emergency room lobby parted and Marge came out, sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve.
She put a protective arm around Paige, squeezing her tightly. That small act of kindness, of being seen, was almost enough to break the dam of emotion that welled up just behind the professional part of her that needed to take charge.
“How you holding up, honey?” Marge’s eyes were red, but her voice was steady.
“I’m okay. Better than my brother,” she said, a smile pulling the corners of her mouth up for the first time since earlier that day. She looked at her watch and found that it was after one in the morning. Wow. At least that shit show of a day was over.
“You got a hold of him, hmm?”
“You could say that. Wait till you see your prodigal son. Steel yourself against your image of him as the ideal child.” Paige laughed, but her mom’s brow furrowed, no humor to be found on her austere expression.
“Paige, you know he wasn’t the ‘favorite,’ right?” Paige’s heart thumped against her chest and sweat pooled under her arms despite the chill in the air. She hated talking about family dynamics.
“I know that,” she shot back, realizing as she said it how defensive it sounded. Her mom pulled her in tighter.
“Believe it or not, you were always a daddy’s girl. I was always jealous of your relationship with your father. I wanted so badly to have you to myself sometimes, to take you to the city for an overnight date, to get our nails done together. I loved your strength, but I’m sorry if I let my jealousy stop me from saying that as often as I should have.”
Paige’s bottom lip quivered as the tears came, hot and heavy. Where was this all coming from?
“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just haven’t had a lot of time to talk to you alone the past few years. You’ve been flitting through here on your way to someplace better, not at all like I blame you, but it took you getting sick for me to have the courage to talk to you. Besides, you’re an adult now. You can hear it, and hopefully you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Paige’s whole body shook with sobs, the chink in her armor shattered now.
“I’m sorry I haven’t stuck around,” she got out between sobs.
“Oh, honey, don’t be. I know you’ve got the world by the horns, and I don’t expect you to stop for me. I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t met your father.”
Paige’s tears ebbed, but her mouth dropped open in surprise. She didn’t really know how her parents had met, fallen in love, settled in Banberry. She’d been too young to care when she’d lived with them, then she was too cool to ask about her provincial parents when she came home for visits. It was always all about her—her trips, her travels, her job. She’d been so selfish.
“What do you mean?” she asked her mom.
“Well, I was a lot like you when I was younger. Couldn’t wait to get out of Helena. I thought that place was a pit, and back then, I guess it sort of was. They’ve done so much to bring it back, you know.” Paige nodded along, not wanting to break the spell her mom was under, sharing like a sorority girl after a few drinks.
“Anyway,” her mom continued, “I wanted to leave, did for a bit, actually. Did I ever tell you I joined Up with People for a season?” Marge chuckled but Paige looked at her mom like she had sprouted wings. It was as believable as her mom—her by-the-book, do-the-right-thing mother—running off and joining the circus.
“You what ?”
Marge just smiled, her eyes fixed on something a thousand miles away.
“I was one of the lead singers. Oh, I could carry a tune,” she said, lost in her thoughts.
Paige recalled that much. Her mom would sing her and Brad such captivating lullabies each night. Paige wished on every shooting star to have a voice like her mother’s, but no such luck. She’d never imagined that her mom had done anything with that voice, though.
“I even had an affair with one of the dancers. Kristoff, I think his name was. He moved beautifully on the stage, but that was nothing compared to what he could do behind closed doors,” Marge said, fanning herself now.
“Mom!”
“What? You aren’t the only one to be young and ambitious. I’m just saying I understand where your drive comes from.”
“Why’d you give all that up? Especially for Banberry,” Paige said. That last word, Banberry , slid off her tongue like a vegetable she didn’t want to eat, slimy and sour.
“Your father.” Her father? Alan Connors had inspired her free-spirited mother to give up her dreams, some guy named Kristoff, and settle in small-town America?
“You’ve got to give me more than that, Mom. I mean, Dad? How’d he convince you to trade in on your dreams for his?”
“Actually, he didn’t have to. I met him and without knowing it, my dreams shifted. Traveling was incredible, don’t get me wrong, and it gave me memories I’ll never forget, but your father was everything I never knew I wanted.”
Paige’s thoughts went to Owen for a reason she didn’t want to examine too closely at that moment. But it wasn’t lost on her that he was her first reaction to her mom’s news.
“You’re a sap, Mom, and I never knew it.” Paige teased, but her gut churned with unasked questions. This news was jarring in a life-changing way.
“Love will do that to you. I hope you find that, Paige. It doesn’t have to be here, but I hope you find someone who makes you rethink everything you thought you knew. And I hope you welcome him into your life, no matter how scary that might be. It won’t be a compromise when it’s right, but things will look different from what you thought they would. That’s okay, you know.”
Paige thought for a moment before posing her last question.
“Do you have any regrets? Staying here?”
“No.”
“None?” Paige didn’t believe that lie from the generation before her, the one that said, “my mistakes led me to you, so how could they be bad?” That was bullshit as far as she was concerned. Just an excuse to relinquish accountability.
“Not one. And not because of the reasons you might think,” Marge said. “I made mistakes, sure, and have some regrets about how I handled my relationships. Maybe I was too hard on you, soft on Brad, maybe I could be gentler with your father. But I made the choice to stay here on purpose and with conviction. I knew what was out there, what I was leaving behind. It simply came down to what I couldn’t live without. Leaving your father for even the greatest adventure wasn’t ever a possibility I was willing to consider.”
“I wish I’d known all this sooner,” Paige said, her voice cracking, wistful.
“You can’t live according to the rules I made for myself, Paige. You have to make your own, decide what it is you can’t live without. And be prepared to fight for that at any cost.”
“At any cost…” Paige echoed, her voice and thoughts far away, drifting to a man most likely sleeping next door to her apartment. A man with coarse hair that peppered his chest and muscles that rippled under his skin, whose nightmares shifted to dreams beneath his eyelids. A man she’d known she’d fallen in love with and still let walk out of her life.
“I’m sorry for bombarding you like this, but when you got sick, then your father…” Her mom shook her head, wiping her own tears from puffy eyes. “I didn’t have enough time to realize you’ll be okay. It wasn’t enough time, Paige-O. It never is when you love someone like I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom. And don’t worry about Dad. He’ll be okay. I’ll help as much as I can. Brad will too, if that little shit recovers after tonight.”
“So, he got pretty drunk, did he?” Marge asked, smiling weakly, her arm still around Paige. She let it fall, used her hands to rub Paige’s arms.
“That’s an understatement, like a laughable understatement, Mom. Do you know what made him go on a bender like that? He doesn’t even drink more than a glass of rosé at Thanksgiving.”
“I have no idea. He was picking up Owen, but that’s all I know. I suspect you know more on that account than I do, hon.” Paige glanced down, her cheeks burning with shame. Everything her mother had asked her to do she’d gone and done the opposite. “All I’ll say about that is that he’s a good man, Paige. Like your father.”
“Good man or not, if he got Brad hammered so he could feel better about himself and what happened between him and I, I won’t forgive him. That’s some college-level bullshit.”
“I agree, but hear him out before you go too far down a path you can’t walk back from. From what Brad said, he needed the guys’ advice about something. Didn’t say what, but it didn’t sound like Owen’s problems started the whole thing.”
“I wonder if it’s Julia,” Paige said. She meant to keep that thought to herself, but the late hour and the confessions from her mom had moved her, made it harder to keep her wits about her.
“What do you mean? What’s Julia got to do with any of this?”
“Mom, I know how you feel about her, about her mom and how they both walk on water, but I saw her in Caldwell holding hands with Chris. I just thought Brad should know.”
Marge sighed, her hand going up to stop the conversation.
“Julia and Chris have been friends for years, Paige. Them holding hands is not an indication of anything more than a reflection of that friendship.”
“Sure, Mom. If they were with Brad. Or in Banberry. But they were coming out of a restaurant in Butte, alone, holding hands and walking close enough for their shoulders to touch. And it ended with a kiss. I thought it warranted at least a mention to Brad so he can look into it.”
“And if it’s nothing?”
“Then it’s nothing, and I let it go, end of story.”
“What if it causes a rift in their relationship? Could you forgive yourself?” Marge’s tone shifted a hundred and eighty degrees since she’d started talking to Paige outside the hospital.
“How could I forgive myself if I didn’t and he found out later something was going on? I mean, wouldn’t you want to know?”
“Well, of course, if there was something to know. But I’m sure there isn’t. I would have heard from Betsy.”
“Oh sure,” Paige said, her voice bordering on shrill, “I’ll bet Betsy would have called you to say that she’s sure her daughter is cheating on your son, but would you like to come to Sunday brunch at the club? Where is she, anyway? Why isn’t Betsy here with you? Isn’t she supposed to be your best friend?”
Paige didn’t miss her mom’s cheeks as they flushed crimson through the already-pink luster left over from the cold. She might not have been around much, but she knew her mom.
“She had Bunko tonight.”
Paige let that moment hang in the air. Nothing she said would have the power to convey what she felt for her mother as much as her mom’s own answer. Bunko. Paige seethed under cool skin, thankful her body’s visceral reaction to the cold that surrounded them masked her emotions.
“Mom, I love you. I won’t get in the way of Brad and Julia anymore, I promise. I didn’t want to make you upset either, but you’ve got to ask yourself why you stay friends with that woman when you know she isn’t ever there for you. Has she stopped by in the past month to check up on me? Has she asked what she can do to help you with all this going on? Please, don’t give yourself to anyone who isn’t worth your time. You know now more than ever how precious the gift of time is, and how little of it we have left.”
Paige was out of breath, but she didn’t know when she’d get another chance like this one. Her mom looked down at her through damp lashes. How much more water could she shed in the course of their night?
“I know. And I hear you, but adult relationships are much more complicated than that.”
“Are they, Mom?”
Marge’s mouth opened, the age-lines on her forehead deepened. Before she could say anything, a car screeched into the hospital drop-off. A man threw open his door, darted out of it and half-dragged a limp body out of the back seat. Paige readied herself to tear the driver apart for his subpar care of a patient, until she saw who the patient was.
Her brother stumbled towards them, barreling like a bull out of his pen, but with less grace. When he got close to Paige, bile rose in the back of her throat.
“Jesus, Brad. You smell like Grandpa Jack. And you somehow look even worse.”
He stood to face her, looking nothing like the confident, distinguished educator he was, the drunken stoop of his head not helping things. He pointed a finger at her, but no words came out, so after a few seconds, he let his hand fall back to his side. Shaking his head, he walked inside the double doors.
Her mom stared after her son. “Wow,” Marge said. “Just… Wow.”
“That’s an understatement,” Paige said softly. “He’s worse off than Dad.”
“Should we admit him?” Marge asked.
“Nah, let him sleep it off the old-fashioned way. The headache’ll remind him why he’s too old for this tomorrow. Plus, I think it would be nice if only half of us were admitted to the ER this month. Any more than that and we might raise some red flags with the authorities.”
Marge smiled and went to her daughter, wrapped Paige in an all-encompassing hug.
“I’m sorry, Paige-O. I see you, you know.”
“I see you, too, Mom. And I love what I see. Don’t settle for anyone who can’t tell you the same thing.”
Marge nodded and left, leaving Paige to think about her night so far. Maybe she’d underestimated her small town. Like many of the places she’d traveled to, visited, lived for just long enough to consider a place home, Banberry was alive and kicking, churning out drunks and shitty friends and lovers and cancer. It may have been a microcosm of what she’d fallen in love with outside the protective walls of the peaks that surrounded her, but it was turning out to be pretty comprehensive.
Her brain slowed for a moment, leaving room for Owen to slip back into her thoughts. It was kind of him to show up for her brother and his particular brand of drama. It was also needed. Brad didn’t have many friends, especially since he taught at a community college and high school in Butte, the neighboring town she’d seen Julia and Chris slinking around in. He’d longed for someone to talk to, to have intelligent conversations with, and if Owen filled that void for him, she was happy.
Wasn’t she?
She was. She wouldn’t begrudge her brother the gift of friendship just because it made her life harder when she came to visit. Paige peered inside at her brother, passed out in their mother’s arms, childlike in repose. She wanted the world for him, friends and a loving girlfriend included. He’d grown into someone who could be a good friend, good partner—he just needed to find good people.
On that note, though, she didn’t think getting hammered was the healthiest way to work through the fact that his girlfriend of almost fifteen years might be cheating on him. Or had that been Owen’s doing? Had Brad, once again, chosen someone who would take advantage of his kindness, his loyalty?
That bothered her the more she thought about it. They were grown-ass adults and the only way they could solve an intellectual and emotional question was to ply themselves with so much alcohol that at least one of them couldn’t even form a coherent sentence?
She liked a good bottle of wine every now and then, rum when the situation called for it, but she certainly didn’t get falling-down drunk any time she had a problem. As she watched Brad sit up only to retch what remained in his system onto the otherwise-sterile floor, she didn’t think twice before she plucked her phone from her purse and dialed Owen’s number.
Each ring filled her with more anger. If Owen used Brad to air his complaints about her, so help her… Why else would Brad have gotten so falling-down drunk? Finally, a very long four rings later she heard someone pick up, but the phone clattered, then static filled the other end.
She growled.
“‘Lo?”
“What the hell did you do to my brother?” she spat out.
“Who the hell?” She heard a scuffle on the other end, then, “Paige?”
“Yes, it’s Paige, and I’m sitting here with a guy who doesn’t even know his own name, who couldn’t stand up straight if he was tied to a flagpole.” She heard a chuckle on the other end.
“Well, that could be any number of guys around here. Who’d you pick up this time?”
“I’m glad you find it funny that you got my brother so slobbering drunk he vomited all over an Uber’s car and the hospital.”
“Wait. Now hold on, Paige. Your brother’s in the hospital?”
He assumed Brad was in the hospital for his own injuries or alcohol poisoning and because she wanted to see how he’d react, she didn’t correct him.
“So, do you mind telling me what the hell happened?”
She heard the scuffle again and guessed he was sitting up in bed, trying to tug on some clothes while he talked. Unfortunately, one of the liabilities she took with her in the breakup was the knowledge that Owen slept in the nude, and the images that had seared on her brain.
“Damn, well… When I left him, he was fine, a little buzzed, sure, but then again Steve had ordered another round. What happened?”
“You were out with Steve ?” Suddenly the picture became all too clear. Owen might not have been the bad influence after all. Her brother’s best friend in Banberry was not only the owner of the best body and mechanic shop in town, but a world-class drinker and womanizer to boot. If he was involved with planning a wake, no doubt he’d find a way to make it a party and leave with the best-looking woman there.
“Yeah, it was gonna be those two, but they invited me. Brad thought I, uh, could use a night out with the guys.”
“Since when does that include so much drinking that someone ends up in the shape Brad’s in?”
“I agree. It shouldn’t. Is he okay? Should I come down?”
“He’ll be fine,” Paige said, unwilling to give Owen the win just yet.
“I’m coming down, Paige. You don’t have to see me, but I want to know he’s okay.”
Shit. Game over.
“He’s not the one in the hospital, Owen. But he could be. That’s how shit-faced he showed up.” She crossed her arms in defiance, whether or not he could see her.
“If he isn’t, then…” Now he assumed she’d been readmitted. That, she didn’t let hang in the air for even a second. It would be unforgivably cruel of her.
“My dad, it’s my dad. He fell off a ladder trying to fix that damned window. Knocked himself unconscious, broke a couple ribs. Ironic, huh? You ask me and we should level the damn barn, start over.”
The pause that followed forced Paige’s stomach to her throat.
“So, you’re okay?”
“I am.”
“And Brad is okay?”
“He is.”
“Will your dad be okay?”
“He’s fine. He’ll be sore, out for a couple weeks to recover, but nothing permanent.”
A soft whoosh of air passed through the receiver.
“Jesus, Paige, you let me believe Brad was so fucked up he had to be hospitalized. That’s not fucking cool. You have no business blaming me for his inability to say no to his friend. Not anymore. I’m sorry about your dad, and I’ll check in with him later, but you and me? We’re done.”
The phone clicked, the silence excruciating and endless this time.
Shit, shit, shit , Paige muttered under her breath. She’d thought she’d lost Owen earlier when he’d stormed out of her place, but somehow this seemed more final, more permanent. Something about the way he’d stormed out of her apartment led her to believe she had time to figure it out with him.
Now that choice had been taken from her.
Worst of all, it was her stupid fault. What was it with her that she couldn’t just be with a man and let her guard down? Sure, Paulo had effed her trust in men royally, but if she was being completely honest, she’d been emotionally distant for a long time before that. She’d never had the assuredness her mother did when she’d met Paige’s father, not until she’d met Owen.
But he wasn’t part of her plan. She was supposed to travel, see the world, taste fresh conch from the sea, climb to the top of coastal peaks, watch the whales roll in, undulating and turning in the water as weightless as air. She was supposed to meet another doctor who wanted the same things as her.
If life was a fairy tale. Which it wasn’t, and why did she want that anyway? What was so great about someone who didn’t challenge her, who went where she went, who did what she did? What would they ever have to talk about? The world would be wide, but hers would be narrow, wouldn’t it?
Too late as usual. She’d pissed Owen off beyond repair. Still, she fished her phone back out and redialed his number. It went straight to voicemail. Dammit. She tried again, this time texting him.
Call me, please. It was a cheap ploy. I’m so sorry, Owen. I’m just exhausted, scared for my dad. Call me. In case you didn’t get that first part.
Her heart ached for companionship, for having someone who would be there when drinks were put down to hold babies, hands, each other.
Her chest constricted, and she found it hard to breathe all of a sudden. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She pounded her chest, forcing its rhythm back to normal, but it wouldn’t budge. It beat wild, out of control, and it took her all her will to stand upright.
Breathe. Three, two, one, it’s almost done. She repeated the phrase she used with her patients twice more while she sucked air, tried to give her body back oxygen. It wouldn’t listen.
Finally, scared it wouldn’t pass, she went through the doors that automatically swung open to a place she never wanted to see again out of a work context.
Her mom met her at the door.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” When Paige didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, her mom guided her to the threadbare couches in the waiting room. It was empty except for a man in clothes that looked as well-worn as the furniture he slept on, curled up in a ball. Paige had seen him before in her treatment room. His wife was in the hospital for chemo, breast cancer. He’d told Paige he’d never leave his wife alone there, no matter how long it took. Watching him now, surely not comfortable, but content enough, Paige’s breathing slowed.
In an instant her heart rate followed, and Paige could breathe again.
“What was that?” her mom asked, rubbing Paige’s back in concentric circles like she used to do when Paige was in high school. She and her mom would kick the boys out and have a popcorn and movie night, Paige would crash halfway through each movie, and wake to her mom running her fingers through her hair or rubbing her shoulders. It was one of her favorite memories of growing up. Why had she just thought of it now, after all this time? Her mom had been there from the start, she’d just been too selfish to see that until now.
“A panic attack, I think. I only know them from their symptoms; I’ve never had one before. Jesus. That was scary.”
“You’re okay, though? I don’t think I could have the three of you in here tonight. It might put me in a bed of my own.”
“Brad’s admitted?”
“It was out of my hands. The nurses insisted on it after he emptied his stomach for the third time in their entranceway.”
“That guy. I swear, sometimes I think he’s the smartest man I know besides Dad and then he goes and does something like this to make me rethink my standards.”
Marge sighed, kept tracing her hands along Paige’s back.
“Did I ever tell you about the time Brad stole the tractor from the barn and screwed up the door on his way out so horribly your father threatened to make him rebuild the whole thing that summer?”
Paige laughed.
“You certainly did not, or I’m pretty sure I’d be lording it over that little goody-goody every chance I got.”
“Yes, that’s true, and probably why I didn’t say anything, even after you two were adults. The point is, he was far from perfect. Very far. You both were, but in your own ways. It wasn’t until you moved out and started to see for yourselves the way the world works that you finally started becoming who you are now.”
“Still imperfect,” Paige teased.
“Well, that’ll be the case, I hope, for as long as you’re alive, hun.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Paige said, looking up at her mom with pressed lips and a half-smile.
“No, I mean it. I want you to stay imperfect because that’s what makes life fun. That’s when the really interesting stuff comes up, when you’re vulnerable and willing to let it.”
“Sometimes when you’re not willing, it still shows up and you show it the front door. Slam it in his face, actually. Yeah, real interesting.” Paige’s hands shot to her face, covering it so she could let out a scream, muted beneath the heels of her palms pressed to her mouth. “It’s just so damn frustrating.”
“Oh, Paige, if there’s anything I’ve learned about love, it’s that it’s imperfect, too. It lets us be ourselves—our crazy, imperfect, flawed selves, so that love can fill in the cracks we come with. Kinda cool, actually. I think, if you give it some time, and maybe some of that key lime pie you’re famous for, I’d be willing to bet he hasn’t walked too far from your front door.”
“When did you get to be so smart?”
Marge laughed and squeezed her daughter tight. For the first time in a month, Paige didn’t feel the pressure on her ribs as any more than a mild discomfort. She was healing. In more ways than one.
“Sweetie, I’ve been growing and learning as I go along, too. One of the benefits of not being dead yet is I get the chance to try, try again until I get it right. Come here, Paige-O, and I’ll tell you a secret.”
Paige sat up a bit, leaned against her mom’s chest.
“You get better at it. It gets easier. I promise. It won’t always be this hard,” Marge whispered into Paige’s hair.
“But what if it is? What if I really screwed it up this time?”
“Are you still around? Still breathing?” Paige took in a deep breath, savored the cool air, even though it tasted stale from being trapped inside too long. She nodded. “Then you haven’t screwed it up too much. There’s still time.”
Paige didn’t feel the tears until they fell softly on her chest. She wiped at her eyes and sat up.
“Thank you,” she told her mother. She looked deep into the eyes that had raised her, been there for her, even when Paige had discarded everyone and everything that reminded her of Banberry. “Thank you for everything.”
“Shhhh,” her mom told her. “That’s what I’m here for. Now, don’t you think you ought to be getting home so you can start working on that pie first thing?”
“What about Dad?” Paige asked, sniffling. “What about you?”
“We’ll be fine, hun. We always are.”
Paige smiled. They would be, wouldn’t they? She stood, twisted as much as her core, now weak and atrophied, would allow her. With a resounding crack, the release of pressure flooded through her.
Yeah, a night in her own bed would be just what she needed. She hugged her mom, who kissed the top of her head, and walked out the hospital doors into the cold, welcoming it as it enveloped her.
Fall was coming, and for once, she didn’t mind summer’s fade into the distance. She was looking forward, and she liked what she saw.