Because of Ellison (27 page)

The paperwork said his disease could progress rapidly and
they hadn’t been lying. It’s not even something that I could explain because
any words I used wouldn’t accurately describe what it was like. Each day was a
new problem — a new hurdle to be jumped and an avalanche of pain to be
avoided. My father was in so much pain and even the morphine barely touched it.
I couldn’t stand to see him so weak, so confused. It wasn’t him. And that’s the
thing about cancer. You don’t lose the person on the day they
die,
you lose them when they become so weak that they are no
longer the person you used to know. I was caring for a shell of a man that used
to be my father, and only on rare occasions did he seem to come out of the fog.
The brief glimpses I had of who he’d been meant more to me than anything, and
even though they only lasted for a few seconds, I cherished every single second
that he had them.

It started slowly. He slept a
lot,
the pain medications at least did that for him. I could handle when he slept
because I could pretend that everything was okay — like he’d fallen
asleep watching movies on the couch. But over the weeks, when the meds weren’t
working as well anymore, they’d switched him to a different type and what was
once a nightmare became a living Hell.

He had a break with reality that lasted two full days. For
forty-eight hours I didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, didn’t bathe, could barely find
time to run to the bathroom. Most of the time, my father thought he was five
years old again. He kept asking for his mom or his dad — he would cry for
them like a child who’d been separated from his family. He didn’t recognize me
and he was afraid of me. I cried while attempting to remain strong for him
— to take care of him. Watching him break was leaving me broken right
there beside him. There was nothing I could do to calm him down and it was like
some twisted dream from which I couldn’t wake. Here I was taking care of the one
person
who I used to be able to go to for advice, but
he couldn’t give me any and I was lost as to what I had to do. Eventually, I
was able to calm him down. I read him old books I found on my shelves from when
I was young. There’s nothing like reading a children’s book to a grown man who
reacted like any normal five year old would to hear it. He smiled, he clapped,
and I’d read the story to him enough times that he’d memorized and could repeat
it back to me.

I thought the worst was over when he remembered he was an
adult. I was wrong —
so.fucking.wrong
.

At first he was
obstinant
. He kept
trying to get out of bed when I knew that he’d fall and I wouldn’t be able to
pick him back up. His bones were so weak they would break from the pressure of
my grip. I had to remain constantly by his side to keep him in bed and he was
so angry. He was suddenly my father again, calling me by my full name while
demanding I let him go to work. It was bad enough when he was angry
at
me, but when he became terrified, I almost lost myself to
his madness. Every time I tried to give him his medication, he cried. He
accused me of trying to kill
him,
he kept asking me
why I would do that to him when I was supposed to love him. He didn’t
understand that he was sick, he thought I was making him sick. He blamed me for
everything that was happening to him.

I was angry with him and that anger only made me feel guilty
for having felt it. He was losing his
life,
he didn’t
know what he was doing, yet I was selfishly taking his comments personally and
feeling resentment. What about me? What about my exhaustion and terror and pain
?!
I worried that I wasn’t giving him enough love, that I
was thinking about myself too much when I took a minute break. I became worried
that I wasn’t strong enough to keep going.

He fell asleep finally. Forty-eight long hours and he
graciously closed his eyes and let dreams take him. I couldn’t sleep. I was too
afraid that if I fell asleep he’d wake up and hurt himself. I needed help, but
there was nowhere I could go — nobody who could help me. Even though Lily
and Bill were aware now that daddy was dying, they couldn’t come here. He
wouldn’t want to be seen in this condition. Calling the nurse would have only
resulted in him being forced into the hospital and I couldn’t do that to him
either. So, I sucked it up and stayed awake.

I was in the kitchen drinking coffee when he woke up again.
He sat up as much as he could and looked straight ahead of him. His eyes moved
up and down as if something was standing in front of him.

“Anna?”

I looked over to where he stared. There was nothing. But
that was mom’s name he’d just said.

“Oh, Anna. You look so beautiful.”

My shoulders straightened and I pushed off the counter to
walk into the living room but stopped — I just stood there and listened.
Tears welled at the back of my dry and tired eyes and I listened as he argued
with my mom. From what I could understand by the things he was saying she
wanted him to go with her, and he refused because he had to stay here for the
kids. It wasn’t an angry argument, just a normal disagreement that sounded like
ones I heard between them many times before mom had died. It was oddly
comforting and I laughed softly to myself. I was desperate for anything to be
hopeful about and hearing him talk to her had given me the smallest bit of
light. The paperwork had said that when people died they talked to people who
passed before them. It was supposed to be normal and expected. They advised to
just go with it, not to argue and say that the other person wasn’t there. Now,
to hear it and see it, to know that it happened often enough to have to be
acknowledged, it touched me — made me wonder if we truly did go on after
we ceased breathing.

My arms came up to wrap around my abdomen and I leaned back
against the counter. I gained a bit of strength when I listened to him talk to
her. I pretended that I could hear her voice as she responded to him. It’s
crazy, I know, but when you’re in a situation as futile as mine, you become
desperate for any bit of happiness or hope you can find. It hurt to think it
might simply be another symptom of the illness, but it also calmed me. It gave
me a reason to believe that when he finally passed, he wouldn’t be alone and he
wouldn’t just be gone — as if he’d never existed in the first place.

 
Eventually,
after talking to my mom for what felt like an hour, my father fell back to
sleep, but he did so with a smile on his face. I didn’t move, just stood at the
counter with the dogs sitting sympathetically at my feet and I knew that they
were grieving too. From around the curtains over the windows I saw headlights
pull up to Bill’s house. I looked at the clock and noticed it was late.
Chuckling to myself, I thought Lily must have missed curfew again.

I startled when someone knocked at my door.

Hunter

It was a 17-hour drive back to Florida. I got lost about 15
times and had to pull over and sleep for a few hours at a shady as hell rest
stop in Georgia. I was afraid that I’d wake up to my car being on blocks
because I was in a bad area, but my eyelids felt like 50-pound weights over my
eyes and I pulled over anyway. Thankfully, I lived and my car wasn’t stripped
before I’d made it to her house. I stood outside debating whether to knock or
wait until a decent hour.

Walking around the house, I noticed that the bedrooms lights
were off, but I swore I saw a dim light on in the living room. I knew Henry
would kill me for showing up at three in the morning, but I had to see her, to
talk to her, to know that she was still in one piece — that she was okay.

Walking up the steps to the door, I prayed that Ellison
answered the door and not Henry. I didn’t want to piss the man off within the
first five minutes that I was back, but I was willing to take that chance to
see her.

After she threw the door open and after I saw the shock turn
to a murderous look in her eyes, I kind of wished it had been Henry who
answered after all.

“What in the hell are you doing here
?!
”
Her voice was whisper quiet at first, but her tone told me she was a hundred
percent pissed off. She quietly shut the door behind her. “Explain to me right
now why I’m standing on my porch looking at you when you are supposed to be a
thousand miles away.”

She looked like shit and it was a punch to the stomach to
see her initially. Her clothes were stained and wrinkled and I would have
placed a bet on the fact that she’d worn them for several days. Her hair was up
in a messy bun. Bits and pieces of it were pulled out at the sides, sticking
out in every direction. I could see the bones of her shoulders through the thin
cotton shirt she wore. Her cheeks were sunken in and her eyes would have been
as well if they weren’t so swollen from crying. The blue of her eyes looked
neon compared to the dark red rims that surrounded them.

“El, don’t be pissed at me.” I stepped toward her and she
stepped back nearly pressing her back against the door. She held up her hands
to stop me from getting closer. My hands fisted at my sides to notice that no
emotion was clear on her normally expressive face. She looked raw, hollow
— as if every bit of life and vitality had been drained from her, leaving
a weak shell in its place.

“Ellison, what’s going on?” My voice broke when I whispered
out that question. I don’t know why I kept my voice so low, but looking at her,
I worried that anything louder could break her. She’d been fighting, that much
I could tell. I could barely shake the driving need I had to wrap my arms
around her and not let go.

She looked at me; just stood there staring out of empty and
passionless eyes. “You need to go home, Hunter. There is no reason you, of all
fucking people, need to be standing in front of me right now.”

Her voice
shook as she spoke and I could
see her eyes glisten with unshed
tears. I swallowed down the frustration
that was drowning me in that moment. My throat hurt, my stomach cramped and the
blood rushing to my head pushed along the headache slowly creeping up the back
and sides of my skull.

“I’m here for Thanksgiving. I don’t have school for a week,
so I had time to get down here. I wanted to see you.” It was like talking to a
mental patient. The person standing in front of me looked like Ellison, but her
words, the way she spoke and the way she was holding herself, she wasn’t the
girl I’d left behind a little over a month ago. I spoke slowly, clearly, in an
attempt to calm down the rage I saw simmering behind her eyes and beneath her
skin. “Will you tell me what is going on? You look … ”

“I know how I look. I didn’t need you driving down here to
tell me how I look. I have a mirror.”

Fuck, there was no emotion to her voice at all. Normally, I
could pick up something; anger, frustration, teasing humor — but this,
this was mechanical and cold.

“My dad is dying, you know that. His condition worsened, but
that’s all you need to know. Enjoy your Thanksgiving with Lily and Bill, and
then go back to school. I’ll text you when I’m not so busy later on.”

The cracked quality of her words carved splinters from my
heart. I’d known she was avoiding me when I texted her, but I didn’t know why.
My answer was the haggard and spent shell of a woman that stood before me.

She leaned back against the door and folded her arms over
her chest. “I won’t be accepting visitors for a while. I wish I could say I’m
glad to see you, and if you really are just here for the holiday, that’s fine,
then I’m glad. But come Saturday, you better have your butt headed back up
north.” A single tear finally escaped her eye and I reached up to wipe it away.
She flinched when I did so and I pulled my hand back to my body to see her
react in such a way. She was fighting and she was fighting hard — but
against what, I had no idea.

Her resolve broke in front of my eyes and she doubled over
as if she was in pain. Her back shook with her fitful breath. I reached out and
placed my hands on her shoulders, pulling her body against mine. She crumbled
when I finally had my arms around her. I leaned back against the railing of the
stairs to take her weight and I silently held her as she shattered completely
within my grasp. My shirt stuck to my skin where her tears had soaked through
the material and, even though I fought hard not to join her, I couldn’t fight
back my own in reaction to her pain. I wanted to question her, talk to her,
make her think of anything but whatever was going on behind the front door, but
I knew she wouldn’t answer. I was afraid to speak at all, for fear that she’d
remember that she didn’t want me here and would make me let her go.

I don’t know how long we stood like that, but eventually her
sobbing stopped, her breathing
shallowed
and her body
relaxed. I gently nudged her. “El?”

She’d fallen asleep standing up. What had made her so
fucking tired? When her legs started to collapse beneath her, I caught her and
picked her up to carry her inside. There was nothing that could have prepared
me for what I saw when I entered her house.

Medical supplies were scattered over every available surface
of the house. In the middle of the living room was a hospital bed, and in that
bed laid a man who at one time would have been Henry James. I was shocked to
see how much he’d changed over a few weeks. His hair had greyed and his skin
sagged over his bones. He was motionless as he slept and his jaw hung open from
how deeply he breathed.

Rather than tearing across the room as they normally would,
Sasha and Bear slowly approached me. When they reached me, they rubbed their
heads softly against my legs and sat down at my feet while I stood in shock
taking in the details of the house. It was chaos. Dishes stacked in the sink,
towels and blankets in piles on the floor. Amongst the boxes of supplies and
bottle after bottle of medications that lined the counters and tables were
wrappers tossed aside, most likely when Ellison had been moving quickly to do
something for her dad.

I placed Ellison on the couch and grabbed the blanket at one
end to pull it over her. She immediately curled in on herself and grimaced in
her sleep. Even when unconscious, she couldn’t find peace. I stood in the
middle of that living room not knowing what to do. I couldn’t leave her in
these conditions. Anger boiled inside of me to wonder if anyone had been
helping her. Grabbing my phone from my back pocket, I typed out a rapid text to
Lily.

Me: Where is Ellison’s
brother? Who has been helping her with her dad?

Yes,
it was three in the morning and no
,
Lily hadn’t been expecting me
. I was going to give her
a couple minutes to respond and then march over there and bang on her window to
wake her up if she didn’t. Luckily, she did.

Lily: What the fuck?
Do you know what time it is? Why do you want to know about Jake and how the
hell am I supposed to know?

Me: Because I’m at
Ellison’s fucking house and it looks like a hospital fucking threw up all over
the place. Who’s been helping her
?!

Lily: You’re here
?!
Oh shit, Hunter, she’s
gonna
be
pissed that you’re in there. This is Ellison we’re talking about. She won’t let
anybody help
her,
she doesn’t want anyone seeing her
daddy like that.

I didn’t give a shit if Ellison never wanted to speak to me
again. I was going to get her help. There was nothing that could make me leave
her in this condition. If she woke up and got pissed, fine … I’d just devise a
way to make her get over it eventually. I was willing to take the hit.

Me: I’m going to clean
up her house. Text Jake and tell him to get his ass home, now.

I didn’t wait for Lily to respond before shoving the phone
in my pocket and going to work on the house. I found trash bags in the kitchen
and pulled one out to pick up and throw away all the emptied medical wrappers
and other miscellaneous trash I found littered around the room. After I had
that cleared, I gathered together the scattered supplies and medications and
placed them on the coffee table so that they were easily accessible to her.
After picking up the towels and blankets and placing them in the wash, I got to
work on the kitchen, washing and drying dishes before placing them in the
cupboards.

Every so often Ellison would stir where she slept, but she
never woke up. She groaned in her sleep and cried and it took everything I had
not to lay down beside her to comfort her. Mr. James never woke up and I was
thankful for that. Eventually Jake came lumbering through the front door
looking like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Hey, man; Lily texted me. What the hell is going on?” He
closed the door quietly behind him and took a seat in one of the overstuffed
chairs by the couch.

Looking between El and her father, I motioned for Jake to
follow me to the back bedrooms. I was afraid we’d wake her up by talking and I
wanted her to get as much sleep as possible. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn
that she’d not slept over the past few days given her appearance when she’d
answered the door.

After I’d closed us into Jake’s room, I turned to him and he
jumped to see the expression on my face. Normally I would have laughed to see a
guy his size move like that, but I was too pissed to find it funny. “Where the
fuck have you been? Ellison looked like she hadn’t slept in DAYS and the house
was a fucking mess when I got here!”

He blinked and then shrugged his oversized shoulders. “I’ve
been working. I come home and try to help her, but dad feels weird having
another guy take care of him. You know how he can be. The nurses come around as
well, but Ellison lies to them and tells them she’s fine.”

“So, why haven’t you told them what’s really going on?”

He looked at me like I was an idiot. “Have you met my
sister? She’d remove my balls if I did that. She’s afraid with the issues dad’s
been having, they’d want to put him in the hospital — strap him down and
shit. I’ve been coming and going — but mostly going. I just feel like I’m
in her way.”

That wasn’t why he was staying out of it and I could tell by
the pained expression on his face. He looked tired and ashamed. It was apparent
to me that Jake wasn’t handling the situation well and rather than charging at
it head on like Ellison, he was avoiding it to pretend that it wasn’t really
occurring.

I sighed in resignation. “Can you at least be around for the
next day or so and let her get some sleep? She’s going to make herself sick,
Jake, and, no offense, but I don’t think you can handle losing both of them.”

Jake nodded his head that he would and I turned to leave the
room. “I’m going to leave before Ellison or your dad wake up and find me here.
Do me a favor and keep in touch with me if any of you need anything. I don’t
give a shit if it’s early or late, let me know what’s going on with her, okay?”

He nodded again and when I started to open the door, he
quietly asked, “Did you get his letter?”

I stopped suddenly and remembered that the letter he was
asking about was currently folded up in my pocket. Turning back to
him ,
I responded, “Yeah, I got it yesterday. Why?”

“I’m not asking what was in it or anything, but he was
really adamant that I mail it to you and not let Ellison know about it. Seemed
like it was important or some shit, so I just wanted to make sure you got it.”

I could tell he wanted to know, but I wouldn’t break Henry’s
confidence by talking about it — not now anyway. “No worries, Jake. I
received it.”

He nodded again and I left the room and slowed down as I
passed through the living room. Glancing at the couch, I noticed that Ellison
was still asleep. It was restless, but it was better than nothing. I wanted to
go touch her, kiss her on the forehead to let her know I was there, but it
could wake her up and that was the last thing she needed.

Letting myself out of the house, I was met with a cool
breeze. I slowly walked down her steps and over to Bill’s house. They didn’t
bother locking their doors out here so I was able to get in with no problem. I
made my way to the spare bedroom and lay down on the bed, completely exhausted,
but unable to sleep. Ellison’s situation was worse than I’d imagined it could
be. Thanksgiving was four days away and I had to leave to go back to school in
six, but I wasn’t sure I was going to make it back.

Considering my options, I felt torn between knowing she’d
kill me for staying and leaving her alone with people who were too afraid to
force her to let them help. I didn’t care what Ellison wanted and I had to care
about what she needed, and she didn’t need to be left alone. School could
wait,
it would be there the next semester, just like it had
been there all the semesters before. Dropping out now would hurt my GPA, but
that stupid fucking number wasn’t as important as the girl who was sleeping in
the house next to me. Rolling to my back, I reached up and squeezed my temples
between my fingers.