Chapter Twenty-Five
Zander - Three months later
“Jules, come on. You need to learn how to do this, too.”
Fuck, this is hard. We all knew it would come, but it’s one of those things that still blindsides you. It’s not that we all held out hope that she would miraculously get better; I think we just tried our hardest to delay the inevitable.
The last two months have been brutal. Between the severe weight loss and difficulty swallowing, Theresa is also mostly paralysed now.
Her arms and legs don’t work, and her angelic voice is slowly fading, too.
Her mind is still sharp as ever, though.
She’s constantly making light of her disability, if only to make us feel better.
When the weight started dropping off, she joked that she was getting bikini-ready.
We all know she won’t make it to see the first rays of the summer sun. The joke fell flat.
Palliative care teams and in-home carers are on standby now.
Jules hates them. He doesn’t understand why we can’t do it ourselves, why we aren’t enough.
It’s been the biggest point of contention in our relationship so far.
I’ve tried to explain to him that it's the most humane way for us to preserve her dignity. She wouldn’t want her son bathing and changing her, helping her with toileting, and applying the cream that keeps the sores away.
But his mind can be a cruel place, telling him he’s incapable and not fit for the task.
He wants to be with her, always. He wants to do as much for her as he can possibly manage, because that’s what she has always done for him.
He’s reduced his work hours so that he can help out, and whilst I love that he gets more time with her, it also means I have to get up early each morning after a late shift to let the carers in; Jules kept turning them away before I was awake.
“Jules. You said you want to help, this is the opposite.” I press my head against the door, exhausted from the constant battle of trying to do right by both Theresa and Jules.
“No, you keep letting the carers take over everything. If they want to feed her through a tube, then let them.”
“You’re being unfair. You know she needs this.” I need him to see sense, to recognise that I’m not working against him; I’m standing right by his side.
“She needs us. I can puree her food, feed her soups, and keep her hydrated. Why are you pushing for this, Zander?!”
“Because she’s dying, Jules, and your constant resistance is only making her fight for every moment she has left.
Don’t let your pride stop her from being comfortable; she’s too weak to fight you, too.
” I regret the bite in my words as soon as they’re spoken, but I don’t know how else to get through to him.
Nothing I’ve tried so far makes him see reason, but now I fear I might have pushed too far.
The door creaks open, revealing the shell of the boy I used to know.
His eyes are red and swollen from the tears he sheds in private, his frame is hunched and small, defeated.
I wait for him to say something, to lash out, to release the pent-up anger and injustice he feels every single day.
But he just stares at the floor between us, the empty space feeling like a stark reminder of what we’re becoming.
“I– I can be enough for her, I know I can,” he sniffles, seemingly unsure of his own words.
“No one ever said you weren’t enough, Jules.
You just need to help her in a different way.
Lower your defenses and let people in. She needs more than either of us can offer, and that’s okay.
We can give her everything else that she needs.
” His shoulders sag even further as the truth of the situation settles in.
He knows, deep down, that it’s the only way.
He doesn’t have to like it, but for Theresa’s sake, he has to accept it.
I hold out my hand for him to take, hoping he will step beyond his comfort zone for her.
His hand slides against mine, void of any tension, and I walk us downstairs and into the living room.
The nurse stands beside the hospital bed with a tray of equipment to her right.
She’s here to demonstrate how to set a feed going through the gastro-tube fitted last week, as well as go through all the complications that may arise.
Jules tenses beside me as he takes in the scene, so I squeeze his hand in mine and move us slowly forward.
He needs reassurance, the kind only a Mom can offer.
“You must be Jules. I’m Vicky, the nurse in charge of your Mom’s care.
It’s nice to finally meet you,” she offers a warm smile and space to stand between her and Theresa.
He doesn’t answer; in fact, he looks like he’s about to growl at her, until Theresa throws him a scolding look, tipping her head as much as she can in anticipation of his response.
“Yeah, umm… Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves?”
“I’ll be putting them on in a moment, don’t worry,” she laughs lightly, trying to ease his tension.
“Is that equipment really sterile? How can you be certain?” His nerves and fear put him on the defensive. I had better step in before he demands to see her qualifications or something else absurd.
“Jules, she’s the nurse and knows exactly what she’s doing. Let her do it.” I know this isn’t him; he isn’t a rude person, he’s just scared and way out of his depth right now. Vicky just gives me a reassuring smile, telling me she’s seen it all before and understands completely.
The demonstration lasts for most of the afternoon due to Jules’ endless questions and hypotheticals.
Vicky doesn’t seem to mind, though. She takes the time to explain everything to him, right down to the smallest detail, and then some.
Once she’s packed up and gone for the evening, I call work, telling Toby that I won't be able to make my shift tonight.
He understands completely, even offering to pay me for the missed shift and telling me to send his love and thoughts to the family.
“I’m not working tonight, Toby said they were overstaffed and didn’t need me, so it looks like it’s family night.
” The lie comes effortlessly. I just feel an unexplainable need to be close to them, for tonight, at least. They look at me at the same time, their eyes filled with enough love that my heart could burst right inside my chest. It’s like being offered an endless supply of food after starving for so long.
I take, and take, and take, until I physically can’t take any more.
It’s satisfying and fulfilling, but also a sickly reminder of the emptiness that was once there.
“I’m going to head to the shop and pick some bits up.
Does anyone want anything?” I don’t think we actually need anything.
I just know that I need to give them a little time alone and some space for my own mind to adjust to the changes happening before us.
“Haribo, twin snakes, please. Oh, and a strawberry milkshake for Mom, you haven’t had one in ages, have you?
” Theresa tries to respond, but her voice is too weak, so she smiles in agreement instead.
What he sees as an act of kindness, I see as the perfect window of opportunity to make him feel a little bit better after the day's events–
“Got it. Hey, Jules, whilst I’m gone, you should get her tube prepped, flush it just like the nurse showed us, yeah?” He looks at me, uncertainty taints his features, before he realises this is how he helps her, now.
“Yeah, I’ll do it,” he says, visibly relaxing into the role of caregiver once again. I shoot him a quick wink and smile before heading out the door, leaving a piece of myself with them both, as always.
Walking back into the house, tranquillity surrounds me.
The domestic scent of laundry detergent and our afternoon lunch welcomes me back, as does the hauntingly beautiful melody of a familiar song floating from the living room.
The words are thick with emotion and full of soul.
Jules isn’t just singing, he’s bearing his heart to the only woman he’s ever loved.
He sings the same lyrics she had once sung to me, but this time I can really hear the meaning behind them.
I find myself lingering at the door, soaking up the melancholy in his voice and absorbing it as my own.
I imagine Theresa singing this to Jules as a child, teaching him to never dull his colours for anyone else.
Now he’s giving it back to her, but with his own message - he’ll always be there.