Chapter 22
chapter twenty-two
jude
Nesto’s hand squeezed mine as we walked into the Rochester Cancer Center.
I was clutching a small container of Mary’s favorite cookies, which I’d baked the night before, and trying to breathe through the jumble of emotions crawling up my throat. I told myself over and over this was just a visit, that my life was my own, and nothing would change after seeing my sister.
Nesto stopped when we got close to the elevators. He stood in front of me, with his gaze focused on my face. The lines of his mouth tight with worry, as he pulled me to him and kissed my forehead.
“You’ll be fine. If you need me, just text okay? I don’t care what anyone says, if you want me, I’ll be up there in a hot minute.”
I nodded, trying to calm myself before going up to Mary’s room. “I’ll let you know when I’m leaving her room.” He looked over my shoulder and pointed toward the end of the hall.
“There’s a cafeteria that claims to have Starbucks; I’ll be waiting there.” He patted the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “I’ve got all my stuff for work, so I can wait as long as you need.”
I hugged him again. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Of course. No big.” I held on to him for a few more seconds and walked toward the elevators.
When I glanced over my shoulder, Nesto was looking at me with concern on his face, but he held up his hand and smiled.
He was still there as I got into the elevator and pushed the button to the third floor.
I felt so grateful for his presence. I knew he was still reeling from missing his shot with Sheridan, but he still made the time to come with me today.
As I went up, I was so anxious I felt like I was in a fog. I tried not to dwell on the last time I’d seen my sister, or the blank look on her face when she asked me not to contact the family again. Thankfully the elevator stopped before I could work myself up into a complete panic.
The doors opened, and I walked into a generic hospital wing with lots of white and bad lighting. The nurse’s station was off to the right and there was a young man at the desk who looked a little too peppy given the location. As I reached the counter, I breathed again and smiled at him.
“Hi, I’m here to visit my sister, Mary Connor.”
He flashed me a smile and nodded. “Hi, there.” He pointed at a whiteboard on the wall behind the desk and I saw M. Connor written next to her room number. He pointed to the left. “Third room on the right.”
“Thanks.”
When I got to my sister’s room the door was open. From where I stood I could see homemade cards sitting on a small table by the window, and just a couple feet away Mary was lying on the bed, her eyes closed.
She looked older, but still beautiful. Her blonde hair fell over her chest in a long braid. I smiled, thinking how she and I were the only ones who’d gotten our mother’s hair and blue eyes.
She was so pale, and her lips were pursed like she was hurting. I could see her chest moving slowly up and down as she took deep breaths. Her body held tightly, bracing it for pain. I knocked softly on the door and she opened her eyes, turning her head toward me.
When she saw me, a huge smile blossomed on her face.
“Jude, you’re here.” She raised her hand, beckoning me to her. “It’s been so long, little brother.”
I lifted my hand and walked in, trying to smile.
“Hi, Mary.” I sat in a chair next to her bed, the container of cookies still in my hands. I raised them, so she could see. “I made you cookies, your favorite.” As I handed them to her I realized she may not be up for eating them.
She opened the lid and inhaled. The smell of chocolate and butter filling the space between us.
“You were always the only one who could replicate mom’s recipe to a T.” I shook my head at that.
“You’re the best baker in the family.” She smiled again but didn’t speak, just looked at me, an awkward silence settling between us.
She sighed and closed her eyes again. “I’m dying, Jude.
The doctors said radiation won’t help very much, so I told them I won’t put Jesse and the kids through that.
I want to at least be present and enjoy the time I have with them.
” Her voice broke and she shook her head.
“Just like Mama. She was two years younger than me when she died.”
I jerked my head, emotion clogging up my throat. “I know. I’m so sorry, Mary.”
“Well.” She laughed. “You’re not alone in that.
How I’ve missed you.” She reached out and took my hand, when I closed mine around hers I almost flinched.
Her skin felt so cold and papery, and I remembered how scared I’d been when she’d been sick the last time.
How I’d driven from college to see her every weekend.
“You and the twins were our first kids, you know? Everyone would ask why Jesse and I waited so long to start a family. I would laugh and tell them we started raising one the day we brought you all to our house.” She sighed heavily and squeezed my hand again.
“We pray for you, every day. We pray you’re all right, and that you find your way back to us. ”
As much as my heart ached from missing my sister, the thought of that, of having to go back to denying who I was, made me feel sick.
Since talking to Jesse on Sunday, I feared seeing Mary would make me yearn to be in the fold of my family again.
But being here with her now, I knew I could never go back.
It hurt to know she’d never see me the same way again, even though I was the same Jude she’d held and sang to every night for months after Mom died. The same one she asked to be the godfather to her child.
It struck me how sad it was that this one thing about me could be more important than everything else. I wondered if there would ever be a way for me to explain to her or any of my family how wretched and small it made us all.
Mary’s voice brought me out of all my sad thoughts.
“Are you still out in Ithaca? Esther said you were working at the county library there. Always book crazy like me.” A wistful smile formed on her lips.
I nodded, grateful for the change of topic.
“Yes, still in the book business. It’s a good place to work.
I really like Ithaca, too. It’s a nice community.
” I’m not sure why I felt compelled to say that, but it seemed important to make it clear I was happy where I was.
“How are the kids and the rest of the folks up there?”
“They’re good. Faith is starting seventh grade this fall. She’s a book nut too, loves to write.” A tear fell down her face, and I could tell she was working very hard not to start sobbing.
I took her hand again. “Oh, Mary.”
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. When she opened them again the stoic mask the Fuller family wore so well was firmly set on her face.
“Micah is starting fifth grade, he’s obsessed with soccer and says he wants to be a preacher. Imagine that.” The thought of little Micah being indoctrinated into the ways of our church made a shudder course through me.
“That’s great,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say. “Everyone else is the same, working, living, kids getting bigger. Our lives don’t change much year to year. Amos’ youngest just got married.”
“Wow, married.” That was the youngest of our cousins. He had to be barely twenty. I sighed, thinking about all the events I’d missed in the past few years. “I’ve missed the kids.”
“They missed their Uncle Jude, too. Faithy made her herself sick from crying after—”
She stopped mid-sentence, grief marring her face.
I waited, knowing she was thinking of a way to talk about what happened, to explain why she had cut all contact with me. I wondered if it would still hurt. If the skin on my face would still burn with shame when she talked about “my choices.”
Suddenly Mary turned to me.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you how you felt, Jude? I could’ve helped you.” She looked earnest and hurt. I didn’t answer, knowing Mary wasn’t done. “I could’ve prayed with you, or gone to Pastor Jones, talked about it with him, found a way to fix it.”
There it was.
Fix it.
Fix me.
I was surprised to realize it was not so much hurt I felt, just weariness.
I exhaled. “Mary, there was nothing to fix. There is nothing to fix. I didn’t say anything because I needed time to figure things out, and I was scared of what would happen once I said it.
” I laughed sadly, thinking of all those years I spent living in agony.
“I waited so long to say something because I wanted more time with all of you. Do you know, I knew I was gay by the time I was eight or nine? I was certain of it, and I prayed, and begged God to take it away, but it didn’t go away.
So, I put it off as long as I could. Tried to learn to love myself enough the way I was, so no matter what happened after I told, I could go on. ”
She’d put her hand on my forearm as she spoke, and when I finished she tightened it for a second before letting go. “I can’t go against what I believe, Jude. No matter how much I love you, and I do love you, little brother.”
“I’m not asking you to, Mary. I don’t need you to accept anything. I’m here for you, to see you. If you want me here, I’ll stay; if you don’t, I’ll go.”
“No, don’t go.” Her voice gained an urgency then and she moved around, pulling out a book from under her pillow.
I smiled at that because she’d been the one to start me on the habit of waking up and falling asleep with a book.
I always had one, or my e-reader, tangled in my sheets. I learned that from Mary.
“Will you read to me?” Her conspiratorial tone finally brought back the older sister I remembered.
I looked at the cover of the book she handed me, a grin blooming on my face.
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
Mary had only ever been irreverent in one thing, books.
She read everything, whether it was allowed or not by our church. If it was good, she devoured it.
“Do you have a page marked?”