36. Leo
I’ve been gone from the asylum for an hour, and I’m still worrying even though she promised. Who the hell knows if she is going to keep it? It is Veronica, after all.
I gaze out of the window, watching the trees pass by as we approach my parent”s house. Myles is in the seat next to me in the back of our Uber.
He left shortly after helping Dr. Bennett with all the business issues. I love him, but I am so happy he is gone. Myles”s presence only stressed me out more because of Veronica. I couldn’t trust her to keep pushing his buttons when I wasn’t around.
Luckily, Myles and Scarlet met. She showed interest in him almost immediately. He had mentioned to me in private that he was told to beware of the woman.
I wonder who could have told him that.
“You good, man?” Myles asks beside me.
“Yeah.” I peel my eyes off the road to look at my friend.
“You’ve got your worried face on.” Is it that noticeable?
Resting my head back, I close my eyes. “She is just so unpredictable. I made her promise to behave herself, and she agreed, but…”
“You don’t believe her.” He finishes the sentence for me.
My head shakes. “Would you?”
He inhales a deep breath before saying, “God, no.”
“And yet you wanted to sleep with her.”
“Do you blame me?” He chuckles. “It doesn’t matter, though. Not when I have the nurse”s number on my phone. That doesn’t bother you, does it? Seeing as she showed an interest in you first?”
My eyes flutter open, staring at the black fabric on the car”s ceiling. “Nah. I think she took the hint that I wasn’t into her.”
“Because you gave her the cold shoulder.”
I look over at him. “Did she say that?”
“Something along those lines.”
“We have both been busy. I mean, she works in another ward.”
“So it has nothing to do with crazy pants?” He smirks. The driver has been sneaking glances back at us at this point of the ride.
“It has everything to do with her,” I admit. “I thought it was only sex, but then I started getting... feelings for her.” I sigh in frustration. “Fuck, it sounds so stupid.”
Myles shrugs. “It does, but it doesn’t.”
“How does that even make sense?”
“Given the circumstances, yes, it sounds stupid, but you can’t control your feelings, Leo,” he tells me.
“We could never be together. Never in a traditional way.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Alright, stop with that shit.”
Myles laughs, but the driver pulls up outside my parents before he can respond. We leave the car, grabbing the bags we packed for the stay. The weather has been decent except for the occasional rain showers. With it being late April, it’s expected.
This is my childhood home. It is a picturesque home for a family: a white two-story house with a red door and black shutters. Mom wanted to make the shutters red, but our father said it would be too much.A white picket fence with flower baskets hanging over the edges surrounds the house.
Seeing this place brings a smile to my face. It warms my heart. There have been so many good memories here. Chloe and I playing tag in the front yard. Climbing up the ladder to the treehouse in the middle of the night to sleep out back.
Mom and Dad knew what we were up to most of the time, so there wasn’t much sneaking around. They just let us do it because they knew we were safe.
Dad set up a tent one summer out in the back because I thought I could spend a whole week out there—survival guide mode. Mom always left me snacks outside the tent without me seeing her, and I would pretend it was food I hunted for.
It lasted only two days. I kept hearing weird noises that scared the shit out of me as an eight-year-old kid. I rushed inside, ran up the stairs, and dove into my bed. Then, I helped Dad take the tent down the following day.
The front door swings open, and Carter runs down the stone path toward us. His arms are in the air, and he squeals with the biggest smile, “Uncle Leo!!!”
I put my bag down and scoop him up into my arms. He giggles as I spin us around. “I missed you, bud.”
With his arms wrapped around my neck, he squeezes tight. “I missed you, too.”
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Myles pretends to be hurt that Carter hasn’t noticed him.
“Uncle Myles!” Carter reaches over for him, Myles taking him from my arms. The little boy playfully pinches his nose. “You smell like chopped liver.”
“Oh, you little...” Myles”s hand dives in and begins tickling Carter senselessly. The laughter fills the front yard, and my eyes dart back to the door to find Mom and Dad standing there, Chloe making her way to us.
“He isn’t wrong, Myles,” Chloe says as she stops. “You do smell awful.”
He gives her a smug smile. “It’s good to see you too, Chloe.”
She shakes her head with a laugh before turning towards me and wrapping her arms around my body. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too.” I kiss the top of her head.
Chloe lets go of me. Carter is now playing in the grass, and I’m making my way over to my parents. A gleam shines in my mother”s eyes, and a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.
“Come on, mom. There’s no need to cry.” I give her a soft smile, then pull her in for a hug.
“I’m just so happy you could make it.”
“Me too.” I release her and hug my dad. “I’ve missed you guys.”
“We’ve missed you, too,” my father says.
“Uncle Leo! I drew that picture for you!” He beams.
Chloe sighs. “Honey, Uncle Leo just got here. Let him and Uncle Myles go unpack, and then you can show him.” Carter nods, rushing past us and into the living room to play with toys. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
“It’s not that bad, is it?”
My mother laughs. “It isn’t as bad as the last one, that’s for sure. Why don’t you and Myles get upstairs and freshen up? Dinner is about done.”
My bedroom looks the same as when I moved out at eighteen. My mother didn’t touch a single thing in here besides keeping it clean.
The same black comforter is neatly tucked into my bed, and the matching curtains and rug occupy the space. Posters of my favorite bands back then are still tacked to the wall.
I forgot how dark I was back in high school. Having all this decorated in black makes me wonder how I lived in a world like this.
Technically, I’m still a dark person. My apartment room has a deeper gray comforter and curtains, but I added a pop of color to the art I decorated the room with.
Speaking of art, as soon as I enter the kitchen to join the family for dinner, Carter shoves the drawing he made into my hands. My mother didn’t lie; it wasn”t as bad as the last.
This one, however, was more complex than the kangaroo he drew. This illustration was of a dinosaur—with wings—a T-Rex, to be specific. Oh, and it was wearing a top hat like Abraham Lincoln with a beard.
I’ll give it to the little guy; he attempted to add as much detail as possible without using color. He remembered that all my other tattoos were black and gray. Even though it looks like a six-year-old drew it, which is because one did, I can’t wait to add it to my body. I’ll have to figure out a time to get it done.
“It looks great, Carter,” I praise him. He smiles big, then runs off.
When I walk into the dining room, Chloe finishes setting up the table, with Myles trailing behind her with napkins. Since it is our mother”s birthday, it”s a formal dinner. A bouquet of her favorite flowers sits in a clear vase in the middle of the rectangular table.
Chloe peers up at me as she sets down the last plate. “The food is done. Mom is adding her finishing touches.”
“She cooked her own birthday dinner?”
Chloe looks at me with a deadpan stare. “Did you expect anything else? Besides, I offered to cook for her, but she turned it down. She basically threw me out of the kitchen! She said she wanted to cook, knowing her children would be under one roof.”
I shake my head, a soft smile playing on my lips. Sounds like mom.
Dad walks out of the kitchen door, holding a lasagna pan; Mom follows behind him with a huge salad bowl. After Dad sets the dish on the table, he heads back into the kitchen to grab the homemade garlic bread.
This is one thing I miss about being home: all the food was homemade. She enjoyed cooking and even baking treats from scratch.
With love, as she put it.
We all take a seat, my eyes roaming around the table. This is my and Chloe’s favorite food. We share a knowing look before I turn to my mother. “Uh, mom? It’s your birthday. Shouldn’t we be eating one of your favorites?”
“Nonsense! I love lasagna.” She waves a hand.
“Yeah, but it’s not your favorite,” Chloe answers for me.
“I don’t care about what we eat for my birthday dinner. That doesn’t matter to me.” Her eyes go soft. “All that matters is that my children are here.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chloe start to tear up. Then my mother looks at Myles. “You are just as much of a son to me as Leo is. Always will be.”
“Thank you,” Myles says with a smile.
“Now, let”s eat!” She beams, digging into the pan first.
The sounds of utensils hitting the lasagna pan, our plates in front of us, and even the rim of the wine bottle hitting the edge of our glasses fill the room.
Light chatter of someone asking to pass the salad and the bread is mumbled across the table. This feels like old times, and my heart swells from how much I miss it.
I make a mental note that I need to come back more. If work with allow it.
“So, Leo,” my father says, “how are you enjoying your new job?”
Quiet enough beside me, Myles laughs slightly, and I do my best to ignore him. “It’s going well. Different from what I’m used to.”
“Crazier patients.” My dad is always blunt with his words.
“You have no idea,” Myles answers.
Mom”s eyes dance between mine and Myles”s in confusion. “Myles came up to speak with my boss about business things. He got to experience some patients firsthand.”
“Oh, Myles, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have gone there.” My mother coos.
I look at her with a shocked expression, my hand freezing mid-bite. “And what about me?”
“Leo, you can handle yourself there. It is what you went to school and were prepared for.” She shoots me a loving look. “Him? No offense, Myles, but I think those girls would scare you and eat you right up.”
I chuckle to myself, Chloe doing the same until Myles opens his mouth. “It wasn’t awful. Although, when I first met Leo’s patient, I wanted to shit bricks. Now she is scary.”
“She isn’t that bad,” I state as I push the lettuce around my plate. My mind wandering to her. Hoping she is behaving herself.
“That’s because you are used to her,” Myles says to me. “Anyone else would be afraid of her.”
“She hasn’t tried to hurt you? Has she?” Chloe’s tone is full of concern.
Myles almost chokes on his food at the question and speaks around a mouthful of food. “She held a letter opener to his neck.”
Everyone gasps, including my father.
I shoot Myles a death glare before trying to calm everyone down. “But she didn’t hurt me. It was more to scare me. Intimidate me.”
“Maybe you going there wasn’t a good idea.” Chloe sets her fork down.
Mom nods in agreement, but I shake my head. “She has gotten better. Hasn’t tried anything like that with me again. You guys don’t have to worry about me.”
“Honey, I’m your mother. Of course, I’m going to worry about you.”
“I know, but, like you said, I can handle myself,” I remind her, to which she curtly dips her head. “Anyway, enough talk about me. Chloe? How is your job going?”
She sighs. “It sucks. My boss is terrible and won’t be lenient regarding Carter. The office is not family-oriented. If I ever have to leave to pick him up from daycare early, they always give me a hard time.”
“That’s bullshit,” Myles mutters.
“Yeah, tell me about it. They try to make me feel guilty. And whenever I call Carter’s father,” She looks over at her son, who struggles to stab the small tomato with his fork. “You guys know how he is. Something is always more important than his son.”
Myles mutters curses under his breath, making sure Carter won’t hear. That boy will repeat anything you say.
“Have you tried looking for another job?” I ask.
“Between the job I already have and also being a full-time mom? I don’t have the time to search for anything else,” she states.
My parents hold sadness in their eyes, knowing there isn’t much they can do. My dad still works full-time, and my mother is always busy with charities and helping at the library. They help when they can, but there is nothing they can do about Carter’s piece-of-shit father.
“I can get you a job at my office,” Myles offers.
Both mine and Chloe’s eyes widen. “What?”
“I”m sure we can find something for you to do there,” he tells her. “With your background and knowledge, my boss would love to have you on the team. He is super relaxed and family-oriented. One of my employees has a kid and had to be off for an entire week when her child was sick. Our boss gave her no shit and let her have the time off. Paid.”
“But I’m sure that was taken from her PTO or vacation days,” Chloe says in disbelief.
Myles shakes his head. “It didn’t interfere with any of that. Our boss understands that life happens and is very generous with his money. The man has more money than he knows what to do with. I’ll put in a good word for you if you”d like.”
“That would be amazing, Myles!” Chloe’s eyes go from hopeless to hopeful, and then she picks up her fork and starts eating again.
“Thanks, man,” I whisper to him. He nods, gazing at my sister for a little longer before focusing on his plate.
We continue with our dinner. Mom talks about what’s going on in the charities she is helping with. Dad tells us about a car in his shop that has been giving him a hard time for the past month.
It”s a casual conversation like none of us have ever left. We laugh loudly at stories Chloe tells about Carter or one my mom shared about the library.
It’s so nice to be home.
When the food is cleared from our plates, and the laughter dies down, my mother dismisses Carter from the table, telling him to play with some toys or watch TV while the adults talk.
Her voice is cheerful, but the pain in her eyes overpowers it. Dad takes her hand in his and gives her a gentle squeeze.
My heart pounds because whatever she was about to tell us, without the child here, would not be good. My fist tightened around the knife in my hand as she looked at the three of us sitting around the table.
“I’m so thankful you three could make it.” She smiles but doesn’t show any teeth.
I glance over at Chloe, a crease in her brows from confusion then I look back at my mother.
“What’s going on?” I ask our mother.
“We have wanted to tell you for a while but wanted to do it when we were all together.” Tears gleam in her eyes. “This isn’t the news that should be shared over the phone.”
I don’t think my heart has ever beat so hard in my life. Clenching my hands around the metal until my knuckles turn white, I keep my eyes on her. The tension in the room is thick and full of fear at what she will say.
“How long is awhile?” I question.
She gives a long exhale. “A couple of months.”
“Mom?” Chloe”s voice wavers, on the verge of tears.
Mom chews on her bottom lip, glancing at my dad, the lover of her life, who gives her a slight nod. “I have cancer.”
The humming in my ear drowns out the noise of the kid”s show on the TV in the next room. It becomes a roaring sound that blocks everything around me besides the cries I hear from Chloe.
I drop the knife, and it clatters loudly on the unclothed table. My hand reaches my mouth, running along my lips as I hold in my own tears. Chloe’s tears fall down her cheek. Myles watches her as she cries, his own tears silently pouring out.
Even my father sheds a few tears. The man who is too strong to cry.
Each of our hearts is breaking.
“You’ve known about this for months and didn’t tell me?” Chloe questions through her cries. “I talk to you every day! Everyday mom and you never once?—”
“I couldn’t tell you without telling Leo,” she points out. “I wanted to tell the two of you together.” Then she glances at Myles. “The three of you.”
“How bad is it?” I ask the question no one wants to know the answer to.
She looks longingly between us, a tear finally escaping her eyes. “It’s not good.”
Chloe covers her mouth with her hand, holding in a sob so Carter doesn’t hear. The last thing we need is for him to come running in here with all of us breaking down.
“You’ll beat it, though, right? You’ve been seeing doctors and getting treatments, right?” I think my voice asks that, but every sound is muffled.
“I have been seeing doctors”—she swallows hard—“but unfortunately, we caught it too late. They are doing everything they can to get rid of it, but...”
My head shakes, and tears finally fall as I repeat the same word: “No. No, no, no.”
“Leo.” My father”s voice sounds from my left but I can’t see him past the blurred vision.
Shoving my chair back, I rise from the table.
“How long?” Myles asks quietly next to me.
“They are saying I’d be lucky if I lasted a couple more months.”
Months?
The tears won’t stop.Fuck, when was the last time I cried?
“Sweetheart.” Her soothing voice calls out for me, and I hold in my sob as I shake my head again. Unable to speak without completely losing it.
I turn from the table, hearing Chloe cry out for me, but her voice fades away. The world that spins beneath our feet daily twirls faster today. The house tilts as I rush up the stairs, throwing me off balance and causing my hand to meet the wall for support.
Once I make it up the stairs, I hide in the comfort of my room. Without thinking, I clutch the lamp and chuck it against the wall. The bulb hits the dark-painted drywall and shatters into tiny pieces.
Mimicking my heart.
She can’t die.
A hole is now a part of the decoration in my childhood room. It is a wound on this house that will never be healed even when patched up.
My stare burns into that hole, thoughts running around rapidly in my mind, wondering how we got here. How in the hell did this happen?
My door opens slowly, snagging my attention away from what I’ve done. My mom”s head pops in, and she takes a second to assess the damage of my destruction. She steps in, closing the door behind her, and when her eyes lock on mine, my knees buckle, and I drop to the floor.
The tears are overflowing, and the sounds coming from my mouth could not be silenced. She walks over, my arms wrapping around her, and the side of my head presses against her chest.
I close my eyes as she runs her hand through my hair, like when I was a child, she would comfort me if I scraped my knee, if I hurt myself when Chloe and I were playing, or when I was scared of the monsters hiding in my closet or under my bed.
But this isn’t anything like those times.This is worse than the wounds I got from playing too rough. Worse than the monsters behind my closet door or under my bed.
I’m losing my mother.
The woman who raised me. Who always looked out for me, who always believed in me. The woman who would do anything to watch her children succeed and to be happy. I tighten my arms around her.
“This isn’t fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, honey.” She continues to brush through my hair with her hand. “And even though life throws us into tough battles, we have to face those battles with all the strength we have in us. No matter how weak we get.” She kisses the top of my head. “We still have to be strong. If not for ourselves, then for the people around us.”
I cry again. She shouldn’t have to be strong. That is what I’m here for—Chloe, Myles, my father. That is what we are here for. She pushes my head back to make me look up at her. She cups her small hands around my face, and I sink into the touch, memorizing how it feels.
“I will remain strong until my very last breath.” She chokes on her words. “I need you and your sister to do the same.”
I nod in her hands.
“I also understand that your job is demanding, and you may not sneak away to see us as much as we would like?—”
“I’ll make it work.” I cut her off because I will. Any time I can get away, I will spend it with her. With my family.
She smiles at me sadly. “Let”s not dwell on what is happening. Let us be a family, how we used to be while you can be here.”
Nodding again, I say, “Okay. We can play board games and watch those dumb romance movies you love. I won’t even complain.”
She laughs. “Now that sounds like a plan.” She pats my shoulder. “Come on, now. We haven’t even gotten to dessert.”
I unwrap my arms from her and stand up. My legs still feel weak, but I follow her out of my room and down the stairs.
To our family, who is still sitting around the table.
To the baked goods my mother made with all the love in her heart.
To act like our world hadn’t just imploded.