Chapter 43 They Found Something
~Caden~
"Holy shit," I said.
"I know it's a lot to process," Morrison continued through the speaker. Felicity and I both took a seat on the front steps of our porch. Both of us clearly realized we couldn’t go inside before our conversation was finished—not with the chance that Macy could hear before we knew what to do.
"The facility staff said her behavior had been escalating over the past few days.
She was having violent outbursts, confusion about where she was and why, and she kept yelling that people were plotting against her. "
Felicity and I looked at each other. The expression on her face told me we were both stunned by this news. I was ashamed to admit though, I had a small thought—could she be faking it to try and get out of the charges?
"What does all of this mean?" Felicity asked.
"Not really sure yet. We'll have to wait and see what the psychiatric evaluation reveals. Could be anything from severe withdrawal complications to underlying mental health issues that were masked by drug use."
"How long does something like this take?" I asked.
"Depends on what they find. Could be a few days for observation, could be longer if they determine she needs treatment, and they need to figure out how to stabilize her behavior. I'll keep you posted as I hear more."
After Morrison hung up, Felicity and I stood in our driveway, trying to process this latest development.
"Should we tell Macy?" she asked.
"Let's wait until we know more. No point in worrying her over something that might be nothing. Given what she shared with Dr. Chen, I think it's safe to say that sharing with her right now could cause her undue stress for something she can't do anything about."
But even as I said it, I had a feeling like there was something we weren't thinking of.
The next few days passed in a strange limbo. We went through our normal routines—work, school, dinner, homework—but there was an undercurrent of tension, like we were all just sitting here, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
True to our promise to Dr. Mitchell, Felicity and I did our nightly check-ins. The first night was awkward, both of us self-conscious about the formal structure of it. But by the third night, it was starting to feel natural. More than natural—helpful.
"How did you feel about our relationship today?" I asked on the fifth night, holding her hands as we sat on our bed, cross legged and facing each other.
"Good. Solid. I felt like we were really working together, especially when Macy had that meltdown about her math homework.
" Felicity dipped her head and shook it back and forth lightly, clearly thinking back to the screaming fit Macy had.
It was obvious that math wasn't the cause, but we gave her space to have her moment and then, together, we sat and talked with her about what was going on.
"Was there a time when I wasn't there for you today when you needed me?"
"No, actually. You were really present today. Honestly, this one answers this question and the one you would ask next about me feeling seen."
"Okay, hit me."
Felicity continued, "Well, you remember how when we were making dinner together, we were talking about my presentation at work when you got a call from the contractor?"
"Yeah?" I responded, nodding, and thinking back to that moment.
"You got stressed about the call and stepped into the other room to take it.
At first, it felt a little weird—we'd been cooking, and you had to disappear.
But I stepped away from my feelings and looked at the actual scenario.
I realized that, first you'd let me know first—not just walking away.
Second, the kitchen would have been a distraction—pots and pans, movement, music and all the things going on. "
She took a deep breath and continued, "so, I realized that, in reality you were looking for a quieter, less distracting space to take the call, not to just get away from me.
But the big thing for me was, when you came back into the room and you gave me a quick insight on what the call was about, let me know why it was a stress point, and then you jumped right back to our conversation about my presentation at work. "
I smiled. Hearing her say it made me consider how effortless it had been to include her in everything. I was happy we were together for the moment because it was clear how much more powerful our relationship was when we did life together.
As we talked, we let each other in on ourselves—working through our questions and hearing one another. When we finished the conversation, Felicity bent forward and laid her head on my shoulder. My arms wrapped around her, and I basked in the settled feeling of love and gratitude I had.
The following morning, as we were getting ready to head out, Morrison called.
I answered, "Hey Morrison, we're heading out to drop Macy at the bus stop. Can we call you right back together?" I caught Felicity's eye and she nodded, shuffling Macy out to the door so we could walk her to the corner.
"Yeah. That works. Call me back soon though, it's important."
"Okay. Will do."
As soon as we were alone, Felicity and I called Morrison back together, putting the phone on speaker as usual. He answered and his voice sounded different. More serious, if that was possible.
"Hey—thanks for calling me back," he answered.
"Of course. What's up?"
"Honestly, I'm actually already almost to your house. I'll be pulling into your driveway in just a couple minutes. We can talk when I get there."
I looked at Felicity, my head rearing back a bit at the surprise I felt from his words. "Okay, we'll be here." I hung up and grabbed Felicity's hand.
"Let's head back inside. It feels like this is going to clearly be bigger than something we talk about while standing in the driveway."
Felicity texted her boss to let her know that she'd be late in. I did the same with Lauren and asked her to reschedule my morning meetings—just in case.
When Morrison arrived, he looked like he'd aged five years since our dinner earlier in the week. He declined Maliyah's offer of coffee and asked if we could speak privately.
We settled in the living room, the kids' laughter from the backyard creating an odd juxtaposition to Morrison's somber expression.
"I got a call from the medical team at McLean this morning," he began. "Jessica's been undergoing a series of tests—blood work, psychological evaluations, brain scans."
"And?" Felicity prompted when he paused.
"They found something. A mass in her brain. Specifically, in her frontal lobe."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "A mass?"
"The preliminary diagnosis is Glioblastoma." She had a Glioblastoma? What the hell does that mean? My fingers were itching to Google it.
Morrison continued after he let the news sink in. "It's an aggressive brain tumor in her frontal lobe. It can cause exactly the kinds of behavioral changes Jessica's been experiencing. The paranoia, the erratic behavior, the poor judgment—it all fits."
Felicity's hand found mine. "Is it... is it treatable?"
Morrison's expression told us everything we needed to know before he spoke.
"Well, Glioblastomas are aggressive. Depending on the size and location, the prognosis can range from months to a couple of years. They're still running tests to confirm the grade, but… they already know it’s in her frontal lobe, and it’s large.
With how far it’s spread into surrounding brain tissue, the doctors believe it’s likely inoperable. "
Leaning back, he dropped an even heavier bomb. "If it’s inoperable, you should know we’re looking at months instead of years."
"But it's not good," I finished.
"No. It's not good." Morrison blew out a breath and looked at us both, saying, "I wish I had better news for you."
We sat in silence for a moment, the sound of children playing outside suddenly feeling surreal.
"What does this mean legally?" I asked, my mind already racing through implications.
"It complicates things significantly. If Jessica's behavior over the past months—including the embezzlement and the kidnapping—was influenced by an undiagnosed brain tumor, it changes the legal landscape entirely."
"Changes it how?"
"Well, it raises questions about her mental capacity at the time of the crimes. It doesn't excuse what happened, but it could affect sentencing. And regarding custody..." Morrison paused. "Given her diagnosis, it's possible she'd never be in a position to care for Macy again."
I felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness.
It felt wrong, but I had a sense of relief that Macy's custody situation would likely be resolved definitively.
Then, I had an immense sadness because, despite everything Jessica had put us through, she was still Macy's mother—she was still someone I used to have feelings for. And now she was dying.
"Does Jessica know?" Felicity asked.
"They told her this morning. The medical team said she took it... about as well as you'd expect. She's asked to speak with you, Caden."
"Me?"
"She wants to see Macy too, but the doctors think it's better to wait until they have a better handle on her condition and treatment options."
I looked at Felicity, who squeezed my hand.
"You don't have to decide right now," Morrison said. "But I wanted you to have all the information."
After Morrison left, Felicity and I sat on the couch, both of us struggling to process this latest development.
"Holy shit," she said finally.
"Took the words right out of my mouth."
"Do we tell Macy?"
I thought about what it would be like, as a little girl, to be in her situation. She'd been doing so well, settling into our routine, feeling safe and secure for the first time in months.
"We have to. But carefully. I think we should talk to Dr. Chen and get some perspective."
"She's going to want to see her."
"I know."
"And you? Are you going to go see Jessica? She wants to talk to you."
I considered the question. Six months ago, I would have gone immediately, driven by guilt and some misguided sense of responsibility. Now, I found myself thinking about what was best for our family, for Macy, for my marriage.
"I don't know, I think so? Not for Jessica's sake, but for Macy's. Someday she's going to ask me if I did everything I could for her mother. I want to be able to say yes."
Felicity nodded. "I think that's the right choice."
"Will you come with me?"
"If you want me to."
"I do."
That evening, during our check-in, I found myself especially grateful for the structure Dr. Mitchell had given us.
"How did you feel about our relationship today?" Felicity asked, settling cross-legged facing me on our bed, hands clasped in mine.
"Solid. Like we were really facing this together instead of me trying to handle it alone," I said. "Even with something this huge and complicated, it felt like we were a team and would face it as a team."
"Was there a time you felt like I wasn't being open with you about my own feelings or response to something?"
I thought about the day, about Morrison's visit and the hours afterward.
"No, actually. I appreciated how you let me see your reaction in real time.
When Morrison said 'Glioblastoma,' I could see the shock on your face, and then when you squeezed my hand—it felt like we were experiencing it together instead of me having to guess what you were thinking. "
"Was there anything that I did today that helped you see me or how I felt about our relationship?"
"When you offered to come with me to see Jessica. You didn't hesitate, you didn't make it about anything other than us, doing this together. It showed me that you're really in this with me, even when it's complicated and messy."
"Of course I am," she said softly. "We're partners—in everything, partners."
Later that night, lying in bed with Felicity's head on my shoulder, I thought about how much had changed. If this had happened last year, even six months ago, I would likely have tried to carry the burden alone, tried to figure out how to handle everything by myself.
Now, I saw Felicity as the partner she is, that she had always been. Someone who faced the hard things with me instead of expecting me to manage them alone.
"We're going to be okay," I said into the darkness.
"Yeah," Felicity agreed quietly, sleepily. "We are."