Chapter 27 Kylo #3
Right. The time she put her purse in the freezer.
In September, at parent-teacher conferences, she forgot how to get out of the building.
She hasn’t been driving much. And yeah, I came home from school one day, said the obligatory “Hi, Audrey,” and saw her sitting on the couch, just staring. I just thought she was in a mood.
I glance down at the letter. “What does she mean by ‘leaving early’?” I whisper, even though I know.
“She wants to . . .” His voice breaks off, and he clears his throat. “She wants to end her life before she gets really bad.”
“Suicide? For real? Are you okay with that?” I demand. I mean, they are supertight.
“No. But I understand she doesn’t want to disintegrate a little more every day until she can’t talk or walk or eat or swallow.
It’s a terminal disease, honey. She’s going to die either way.
” His voice chokes off, and shit! Uncle Stephen is going to lose his sister!
How can he stand it? He clears his throat again.
“Anyway, I understand why she wants to do this. I’d probably feel the same way. ”
“So it’s just gonna be Dad and me?” I ask.
“Well, you’ll always have me, too, Kylo. You’re my niece.”
The vision of life after Audrey spreads out in front of me like a huge Arctic tundra. I mean, we’ve never been best friends, but for all these years, she’s . . . she’s taken care of me. Good care, whether I can admit it or not. Tears streak down my face in hot lines.
“What do I do, Uncle Stephen? Do I tell her I know?” I stroke Gracie’s ears and get two tail thumps as a reward.
“I guess that’s up to you, sweetheart. She wants to protect you from having to deal with this. She thought it would be best if you didn’t know beforehand.”
“Does my dad know?”
“No. I mean, he knows about the dementia, and he’s been great, really looked after her. But he doesn’t know about her . . . plan. She didn’t think he would support it, given your mom and all.”
“What do you mean, ‘given my mom’?” I ask.
He pauses. “Well, from what I’ve gathered, she—and your dad—did everything under the sun to get another month, another week.
They threw everything they had at her cancer.
Really difficult chemo, experimental treatments, even CPR.
Everyone wanted her to live as long as possible, no matter what that looked like. ”
I’ve heard that from Mee-maw. Your mama did everything she could for one more day with you, one more hour, Mathilda. She fought so hard for you. All to get that skeletal, bitter-smelling Mama, and a horrible death for her.
“Audrey didn’t want that kind of long, drawn-out ending,” Stephen says. “She wants to die while she still . . .” Again, his voice breaks.
“While she still has control?”
“Yes.”
“And when is that?” I whisper.
Another pause. “I don’t know. I talked to her neurologist a couple of weeks ago, and he said she has six months to a year, given how fast the disease is progressing. She might change her mind. Or she could go past the point where she’s able to do anything. This disease is evil, Kylo.”
Another tear falls on Gracie’s head. “I don’t want to be called Kylo anymore,” I say.
He gives a sad laugh. “Okay, Mathilda. But Kylo was pretty cool. Listen, I have to go into surgery now, but how about if I call you when I’m done? It’ll be a couple hours.”
“Okay. Thanks, Uncle Stephen.”
“You’re welcome, honey. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I sit there listening to the clock tick, my brain stretching to take this all in. Everything makes so much sense now. Tragic sense, right? Horrible sense. I put the journal and the letter back where they were, then just sit there at the foot of Audrey’s bed.
I picture showing her the letter, telling her I know. She wouldn’t have to pretend she’s okay. I could help more, maybe. Pitch in with dinner and stuff? Stop being such a horror show.
I didn’t try to hate Audrey. I didn’t actually hate her at all, although, yeah, I told her that sometimes. I mean, most kids do, right?
I’m not even sure why I’m shaking so hard.
Shock, probably. And . . . and knowing we won’t ever get a chance to be friends.
Not really. I know she’s always wanted that.
It always felt exhausting, like I’d be signing up for all this stuff I didn’t want, all this super-corny mother-daughter stuff.
Every time I gave an inch, she was begging for the mile, you know?
But thinking about life without her makes my insides hurt. My head is pounding. Should I call Everest and ask what they’d do? No. Everest has, like, the perfect family. They wouldn’t understand. I could go to a therapist. Half my class has one.
But what good would it do? My stepmother is dying. She’ll be dead, like, soon, if Uncle Stephen is right.
I lie down and put my head on Gracie’s shoulder, listening to her breathe, and let her warmth and slightly stinky fur reassure me.
I won’t tell Audrey, I decide. She doesn’t want me to know, so I’ll pretend I don’t.
I’ll let her have that—the pretense that she’s okay.
And I can be nicer. Give up the knee-jerk bitchery that’s, like, my go-to.
I mean, I won’t be snuggling with her on the couch or anything, but I could . . . I can do better.
I will do better. Audrey deserves that.