Claire
Chapter Fourteen
My body slipped into the tub and warm, lavender-scented water enveloped me. I thought back to five days before, even though it felt like a lifetime ago.
As I stepped out of the elevator, the familiar sounds of distant beeping and the smell of hospital-grade disinfectant hit me.
I had been coming here to the assisted living facility every weekend for the last few years, and it had become like a second home.
I had mourned our family home where my sister and I grew up after it was sold to a new family just over a year ago, the day I finally accepted that my parents would never leave this place.
To anyone else, it would have been a tragedy—two people, deteriorating at the same time, entwined in illness and inevitability. But not them. My impossibly romantic, maddeningly hopeful parents saw it as divine symmetry. A fated testament to their love.
“We love each other so much,” they’d say again and again to anyone who looked at them with pity in their eyes. “God knew we’d have to die together, too.”
I stood silently outside their room, my eyes closed as nurses rushed past and patients took afternoon strolls, IV poles in tow.
I never quite shared my parents’ positive take on dying but supported their effort to look on the bright side.
They seemed to take solace in the fact that neither of them would be alone—in death, or life—for very long.
Regardless, I always took a moment and checked myself before entering to ensure I wouldn’t lose it and break down when I saw them.
I feel entirely too young to lose both my parents.
Sure, they were in the seventies now and the average life expectancy was around seventy-six these days. Everything made sense, yet it didn’t. I still needed them. I knew it, they knew it, and God knew it. And I couldn’t help but feel a little anger boiling below the sadness.
I slowly pulled the cold metal door handle toward me as a flood of warm light greeted me.
Their room was decorated with photos of Sarah and me as knitted blankets were strewn across their beds.
Warm lamps they had brought from our old house illuminated the space—a sharp contrast to the cold fluorescents from the ceiling fixtures above—those lights stayed off, always.
My mother said it made them feel like patients and not people.
They had resolved a long time ago that they would make their space their own and live in as much peace and comfort as they possibly could.
My mother’s eyes lifted from her book as she greeted me with a smile, slipping the bookmark between the worn pages and sitting it gently on the nightstand next to her hospital bed.
As I neared her bedside, I noticed her frame had thinned since our last visit a week ago.
Her body was beginning to swim in the floral flannel pajamas I had given her for Mother’s Day.
I gave her a gentle hug, taking a deep breath of her lavender scent with a hint of powder before turning to my father.
He was staring with intensity out the window.
The blinds were drawn back to let in sunlight and reveal the garden beyond the glass barrier.
The leaves of a large tree blew gently right outside, as small birds hopped from branch to branch, soaking in the summer sun.
My father’s eyes watched the birds in a trance-like state as he lay in his bed, covered up to his neck in the plush blues and purples of one of my mother’s hand-knit blankets.
I felt my mother grab my hand and squeeze it lightly as I relaxed the concern that had spread across my face.
She spoke to me as her comforting hazel eyes stared from behind the glare of her metal-rimmed glasses.
“He’s just having some cognitive issues here and there.
Zoning out. That’s all. No need for concern. ”
I looked up at my father once more, noticing the smile creeping up from the corners of his wrinkled mouth as he watched the birds flutter about.
The reflection of their small, strong bodies moved across his green eyes.
I felt momentary relief as I realized that at this moment, he was in far more peace than he usually was.
His face, worn from all his years with deep smile lines and forehead wrinkles, was relaxed.
He looks happy.
“Am I going to be able to talk to him?” I asked my mother as I slid into the vintage blue corduroy recliner from my childhood home that sat in the corner of the room, angled toward her bedside.
My mother glanced toward my father and smiled with satisfaction. “Maybe. Maybe not. He’s happy and comfortable, though. Of course, I will let him know you were here.”
I rocked gently in the chair as I, too, watched the birds outside the window, their movements putting me into a haze of contentment.
We sat in silence for a while as my mother picked up her book to read again, and I stayed in my hypnotic state of birdwatching.
I wanted the peace my father had, and there was something soothing about watching the birds’ blue and black blur as they moved from branch to branch.
“You’re here on a weekday…that’s unusual. What do we owe the pleasure?” my mother asked as she rested her book in her lap and shifted her frail body in my direction.
“I have big news.” I smiled as I leaned forward with excitement. “I am leaving for a work trip tomorrow, so I wanted to come see you today. It’s a short trip, so I will be back on Sunday.”
“California again?” she asked, her brows raising.
“No…” I replied, my smile getting bigger as my face and chest began to fill with warmth. I let the pause sit as I scanned her face, admiring the flutters of curiosity that began to poke through. “Italy.”
“Oh my God,” my mother gasped, bringing her pale hands to cover her mouth as her eyes widened.
“Brian’s wife is close to giving birth, and he can’t go,” I gushed with excitement. “It’s the most gorgeous vineyard about two hours from Naples, right on the sea.”
“I am so happy for you!” my mother exclaimed as she reached her arms toward me, beckoning me for a hug.
I pulled myself from the grips of the recliner and walked to her. “Thanks, Mom,” I uttered my response quietly into her ear as my cheek pressed up against hers, the purple satin scarf tied tightly against her head gently brushing against mine.
As I pulled away and settled back down into the recliner, I continued, “It’s a quick trip. Not a lot of time to do anything. Just a mere twenty-four hours…which sucks. But it’s something.” My shoulders shrugged as I tried to hide the glimmers of disappointment that lay dormant under my excitement.
“It is something. Maybe it will inspire you to get out of your comfort zone, travel more.” My mother winked, giving me the impression that she was alluding to me finding a new man.
The breakup with Alex was as crushing to my parents as it was to me. Even though they were never crazy about him, I always got the impression that they desperately hoped I would find someone. I could only imagine that my dying parents wanted to know that I was loved and happy before leaving me.
“Maybe.” I winked back with a gentle laugh. “Money is always so tight, so it’s hard to afford trips. Maybe if I close this deal the company will send me on more work trips. I wouldn’t mind free travel.”
“You’ve worked there a long time. I am sure they see you and know what you’re capable of.
I sure do.” My mother glanced back toward my father.
“I know he would be excited for you too. I will tell him everything, don’t worry,” she said with a reassuring smile, her voice filled with pride. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I can be. I packed. I have my travel documents. The company credit card was overnighted and got here this morning. I wish I knew a bit more Italian, but I guess I can study on the nine-hour flight…”
I started to ramble, and my mother quickly interrupted to refocus me. “That sounds like a really great use of your time. Will you call us when you land? And when you get to your hotel? And…” Now she was the one rambling.
“Absolutely.” I smiled as I cut her off.
“I will call you all the time. I promise,” I said with a nod.
“So, what’s new with you? How’s treatment going?
” I asked, fighting off the frown that was beginning to force itself from the corners of my mouth.
There was something about discussing her illness that pulled the corners of my mouth into a frown as if weights were hanging from them.
It was extremely difficult to fight, but I fought it for her.
“Nothing new. Just reading Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time. I can never get enough of it, I swear.” She sighed as she patted the worn spine of the paperback.
“Pride and Prejudice…again? I can bring you more books, Mom.” I sighed with a tinge of frustration.
Why won’t she let me do more to keep her comfortable and her time occupied?
So stubborn.
She shrugged. “I know. I just love the classics. Mister Darcy still does it for me.”
We both locked eyes and giggled. She always had a sense of humor that was surprising for a former elementary school teacher.
“You know, Mom, I can bring you a tablet and you can watch Bridgerton. You’d love it! It’s like Pride and Prejudice…but with the training wheels off.” I shrugged as I raised my eyebrows giving her that you know what I mean, wink.
She looked at me and grinned, remaining stoic in her reply. “You know I prefer books…I like to let my imagination paint the pictures for me.”
I inhaled deeply before asking my next question, the one I knew I had to ask even though I already knew the answer. “And treatment?”
“Also, nothing new. Buying more time. You know how it goes.” She shrugged again, her shoulders barely moving beneath the oversized pajamas.
“Has Sarah been by?” I questioned as my brow furrowing with concern.
“Not since her last visit in June. You know how it is. She has children, a husband, and a job. It takes her twice as long to get out here than it does you,” my mother responded as her eyebrows raised and chin lowered in attempt to check my attitude before it even started.
“That’s not a good excuse.”
I grimaced, feeling the disappointment, or maybe anger, fluttering in the bottom of my stomach. This was the one thing that Sarah and I could not talk about without a blow up. Where all else she was a warrior—this was her weak spot.
My mother sighed and gave me a look of deep understanding, her face stoic.
“Your sister may look like she has it all figured out. She may have the husband, the family, the house. But she is still younger than you. She is still more sensitive than you. I know how hard this is on you. Try to think of how hard it is on her,” she said, her eyes glistening with compassion as she looked deeply into mine.
“She needs to focus on her family. I don’t blame her one bit. She knows that.” She sighed as she gave me a reassuring nod, the subtle indication that this conversation was over.
“I would think she would want to spend as much time with you two as she can…especially now,” I said quietly, looking toward my father. He was still lost in the world of birds and beauty that he couldn’t touch.
My mother responded in a whisper, turning her gaze toward my father. “Coming to visit us doesn’t change anything. She calls us. That’s the best she can do right now.”
The sun was slowly disappearing in the distance, and with it, the birds were coming to rest within their homes in the tree.
Shadows from its massive form slowly crept across the hospital room, shrouding my father’s bed in darkness that crept up his body with each passing minute.
It looked as if night was coming to get him.
Regardless of the setting sun, his attention continued to focus on the tree, with the birds at rest his eyes were now focused on the leaves as they danced in the gentle breeze that flowed through the lush nature of the garden.
My mother’s voice pulled me in once more. “It’s almost dinner time for us. Thank you for coming to visit.”
I knew by now that it was my mother’s gentle way of telling me she was tired and needed to rest. Lord knows she wasn’t eating dinner.
“I always love coming to see you guys.” I forced a smile and inhaled deeply, trying my best to hold back the tears that always tried to force themselves out when our visits come to an end.
If I could hold it in till I got into the hall, I could consider it a win. I could be a good daughter and not let her see me break. Because no matter how hard I broke—whether it be a single tear or a waterfall—it would shatter her regardless. She would be devastated. And I would feel even worse.
My mother extended her hand toward mine and smiled softly, a hint of sadness emerging from the corners of her mouth. I stood up next to her and placed my hand in hers, giving it a light squeeze.
“We are so excited for you and so very proud of you,” she said with certainty as she pulled my arm toward her, embracing me in a hug.
I took another deep breath in, as if I was bottling her warmth, her scent, and even her touch into the deepest nooks of my memory, saving it for the future yet to come.
I always asked myself at the end of each visit, “Is this it? Is this the last time I see her?” Taking a few seconds to absorb her presence meant everything to me.
I crossed the room, approaching my father’s bedside, his gaze still on the world beyond the window. Reaching down slowly, I gave him a gentle hug. I was sure somewhere in his mind he knew I was there.
“I love you, Dad,” I murmured quietly as I squeezed him lightly, feeling the stubble on his face graze my cheek.
My mother reached over from her bedside and patted my back, telling me it was time to let go in the most comforting way.
I released my hug and turned it toward her. “I love you, Mom,” I whispered as I let go.
“We love you too, Claire.” My mother smiled as she squeezed my hand once more, her skin on bones struggling to grip me as hard as I knew she wanted to.
As I made my way to the door, I turned back to look at them one more time, taking a mental photograph before I closed the door quietly behind me. I closed my eyes and took a breath as my back pressed against their door.
Finally, I was somewhere I could break, without breaking them.