Chapter Thirty-Five The Last Goodbye
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Last Goodbye
Frankie
Charles looks so small in the hospital bed, buried under white blankets that seem to swallow him whole.
The sterile smell of disinfectant clings to the room, and there’s an incessant beeping from a variety of monitors.
Hayes sits in the chair across from me, still wearing his dress shirt from the party. He’s got grass stains on his knees from when he dropped down beside Charles on the lawn, and his hair is a mess from running his hands through it.
We haven’t spoken in three hours.
“The doctor should have results soon,” he says suddenly.
I nod without looking at him. My eyes are fixed on Charles’s face, searching for any sign that he’s still in there. Still fighting.
“Frankie.”
Hayes’s voice is softer now. Careful.
I finally meet his eyes. They’re bloodshot and worried, and for a second I forget that I’m supposed to hate him.
“He’s going to be okay.” The words taste like ash. “He has to be.”
Hayes doesn’t answer. We both know better than to make promises we can’t keep.
Dr. Patel appears in the doorway, her expression grave. I’ve learned to read people’s faces over the years. This isn’t the look they wear when delivering good news.
“Mr. Winthrop’s condition has deteriorated,” she says without preamble. “The tests show significant cardiac damage. We’re doing everything we can to keep him comfortable.”
Comfortable. That’s doctor-speak for dying.
“How long?” Hayes asks.
“It’s difficult to say. Hours, maybe days.”
Hours.
The word hits me like a physical blow. I grip the arms of my chair to keep from falling over.
“I can have someone from hospice come in and speak to you about next steps.”
“Can we . . . can we stay with him?”
Dr. Patel nods. “Of course.”
She leaves us alone with the beeping and the awful fluorescent lights and the man who changed both our lives.
Charles stirs, his eyes fluttering open.
“Hey, Charlie.” My voice cracks on his name.
He turns his head toward me, smiling that same gentle smile he’s been giving me since the day we met.
“There’s my girl.”
I reach for his hand. His fingers are cold and fragile, like bird bones.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a truck.” He chuckles, then winces. “But I’ve been worse.”
Liar. He’s never been worse than this.
Hayes moves closer to the bed. “The doctor says—”
“I know what the doctor says.” Charles’s voice is weak but firm. “I’m not an idiot.”
We sit in silence for a moment. The weight of unspoken words fills the room like smoke.
“I need to tell you both something.” Charles struggles to sit up higher, and Hayes immediately adjusts his pillows. “The trips you went on, the places we were able to visit before—it all meant so much to me, you know?”
My throat closes up. “Charles—”
“Let me finish.” He squeezes my hand. “I spent fifty years alone after Betsey died. Fifty years convincing myself I was fine. That I didn’t need anyone.”
His gaze moves between Hayes and me.
“Then this crazy girl shows up in my nephew’s office, arguing about God knows what. Forces chocolate muffins on me and changes my Wi-Fi password to something ridiculous. And suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore.”
Tears streak down my cheeks. I don’t bother wiping them away.
“You gave me the best summer of my life, Frankie. You made me remember what it felt like to laugh. To live.”
“Don’t talk like this is goodbye.”
“It is goodbye, sweetheart. And that’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay.” My voice breaks completely. “You’re supposed to get better. We’re supposed to go to Spain. You promised me liverwurst in Barcelona.”
Charles laughs, which turns into a cough that makes my heart stop.
“I promise you’ll still go to Spain. Both of you.”
Hayes shakes his head. “Charles—”
“You two are the best thing I ever did. Even if I had to trick you into it.”
“Trick us?” Hayes frowns.
“You think I hired Frankie just to travel with me?” Charles’s eyes twinkle despite everything. “I hired her for you, you idiot.”
My brain stutters. “What?”
“From the moment you stormed out of that interview, I knew. You were exactly what he needed. Someone to call him on his bullshit. Someone real.”
I stare at Charles, then at Hayes, who looks just as stunned as I feel. But Charles isn’t done.
He draws another slow breath. “Don’t waste time being scared. Life’s too short for that shit.”
Hayes chokes out a laugh. “Did you just say shit?”
“I’m dying. I can say whatever I want.”
We sit with him through the night. Taking turns holding his hand. Sharing memories of Wordle games and Scrabble matches and the way he’d fall asleep watching Jeopardy! every night at seven thirty.
Hayes tells stories about childhood tennis matches and college graduation. How Charles never missed a single important moment.
“I love you both,” Charles whispers just before dawn. “Live the life you want. Not the one you think you should have.”
Those are his last words.
The beeping stops at 6:17 a.m.
I dissolve.
There’s no other word for it. I just . . . fall apart. Like someone cut the strings holding me together and I collapsed into a pile of broken pieces.
Hayes’s arms come around me, and I don’t have the strength to push him away. I sob into his chest while he holds me, his own tears falling into my hair.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper against his shirt.
“I know. I know.”
But Charles is already gone. The man who made me laugh and taught me about stocks and the simple art of not giving a crap. Who taught me that family isn’t just blood. Who showed me what it felt like to matter to someone.
Gone.
“Frankie.” Hayes tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “We’ll get through this.”
Will we?
After making a couple of phone calls to set the arrangements in motion, Hayes drives me back home. Well, home is relative. Since I’m currently in between places, he drops me off at Tessa’s.
“The funeral will be Tuesday,” he says, eyes full of grief.
I nod and exit the car.
I spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, thinking about Charles. About Hayes. About the fact that in less than four days, I’ll have to say goodbye to the best man I’ve ever known.
And I’ll have to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do with the rest of my life.