The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (35 page)

“Mom? Tell her. Please.”

“Whitney,” my mom said, her voice so soft I had to strain to hear her. “We’ve talked about it. It’s not what she wants.”
 

“No.” I shook my head and wouldn’t look at her. I focused on Grams, pleading with my eyes. “Grams? Please.”

“I’m sorry, Whitney.”

It was all she said, but it was enough and I felt my stomach clench with the certainty of it. That was it. I didn’t agree, but it wasn’t my decision to make. I stood and walked to the window, searching for something, anything to focus on that would take the pain from my heart and keep my tears at bay. The room faced the parking lot. The grey cloudy sky made the dirty, concrete-car-filled space seem even gloomier. I watched people coming and going. Some carrying flowers. Others pushing wheelchairs with patients being discharged. Some of those people would be celebrating a new baby, or positive test results. I closed my eyes and pretended I was one of them.

“Knock knock.” I turned around to see Dr. Abbott entering the room. I didn’t have to ask to know the news wasn’t good. There was a certain look doctors have when they’re about to deliver bad news, and Dr. Abbott had it. I instinctively moved back to the bed to be closer to Grams.
 

He looked between the three of us, before settling on Grams. “How are you feeling this morning, Hazel? Are they managing the pain a bit better for you now?”

Grams nodded. “I’m doing okay.” We all knew she was lying.

“I’ll tell the nurses to up your morphine dosage,” the doctor said, making a note in his chart. “That should help.”

The room fell silent for a moment and we all waited while the doctor shuffled some papers. “I wish I had good news for you, Hazel,” he said after a moment. “But we knew it wasn’t going to get much better, didn’t we?”
 

Grams nodded. “How bad?”

“The cancer has spread.” He dropped the bombshell and it sucked the air from the room.
 

My legs would no longer support me and I sank back into the chair, reaching again for Grams’ hand to anchor me. “What…what does that mean?” I asked.

Dr. Abbott looked sympathetic, and for a second I felt bad for him. It couldn’t be easy for him either to tell a family that cancer was destroying their loved one. “The lump in the right breast has grown considerably, which is the source of most of the pain you’re feeling,” he said to Grams. “But the scans also showed quite a few masses in the lungs.
 
They weren’t there before, which means they’re also growing quite quickly.” He paused and added, “I’m sorry.”
 

Grams nodded stoically, a tear slid down my mother’s cheek, but I couldn’t feel anything.
 

***

“Promise me something,” Grams said.
 

Stan had arrived to take Mom home for a rest, and Grams was sitting up, with me in the chair next to her and despite the soul crushing news we’d received, she seemed to be in good spirits. It probably had something to do with the increased dosage of pain killers she’d been given.
 

“Anything.” I picked at the fraying edge of the blanket.

“I mean it, Whitney. Look at me.”
 

I did as I was told.
 

“I need to talk to you,” she said. “Before it’s too late.”
 

“Grams—”

She stopped me with a stern look. “Whitney, you need to know that you’ll be okay. You are a smart, talented, amazing young woman and no matter what you decide to do, you will be okay.”

“I know, Grams.” I managed a smile. “Besides, you’re my grandma. You have to say that.”

“I do not.” Something in her voice stopped me. “I never say or do anything I don’t want to do. You should know that by now.” I nodded. “When I’m gone, you’ll need to start living your life. It’s time.”

“I don’t understand. Grams, I have been. I—”

“No.” She shook her head and squeezed my hand. “You haven’t. You’ve been living the life you thought I wanted for you and it’s not enough. I’ve tried to do right by you. I’ve tried to guide you in making the right choices and I know I didn’t always make the right decisions when it came to your mother and your relationship with her. I can see now it was wrong. I see how it damaged you to be apart from her.”

“No, Grams, you gave me a great life.”

She smiled, more to herself, than to me. “I did my best by you. But it wasn’t enough. Last night I could see that quite clearly. Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are and where you come from, Whitney.”

“Grams, I—”

“I know, I know.” She patted my hand. “I know you’ve talked with your mother. I heard you and I’m glad. This isn’t the time for fighting.”

Despite myself, my lips curled up into a smile and the knowledge that she’d been listening. I should have known.
 

“I was wrong,” Grams continued. “About your mother, about Stan. About a lot of things. I never want you to be ashamed of where you came from.” She paused as she was consumed by a chest wracking cough. I handed her the glass of water and when she was ready, she continued. “You are who you are because of everyone and everything in your life, including your past. And you, my dear, are a special girl. It’s time you knew that and stopped hiding.”

“I don’t hide,” I said. But as I spoke, for the first time I recognized it for the lie it was. “I don’t,” I repeated, more to myself. When I looked into her eyes, I saw the truth reflected there. “I do, don’t I?”
 

Her smile was soft, the nod subtle. “Embrace who you are, Whitney. Surround yourself with people who know you, the real you. That’s the only way you can properly live.” I let her words sink in. “It took me a long time to figure that out. But, it’s time,” she said.
 

I nodded, unable to do anything more. She’d taught me how to ride a bike and tie my shoes. She’d helped me with math homework and book reports. But Grams had never before spoken such profound words.
 

Exhausted from her speech, Grams’ eyes fluttered closed and soon the short, stuttered breaths that signified her sleep began, but still I didn’t move. I’m not sure how long I sat with her, holding her hand, absorbing what she’d said, but it was long enough for me to realize the truth.

Patty-November 2013

Patty

November 2013

Patty let Stan lead her out of the hospital and to the car. Whitney needed some time with her Grams. Besides that, Patty herself was in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes, and a good sleep wouldn’t hurt either.

“How you doing, babe?” Stan asked her as they walked into the apartment.
 

Patty tossed her purse on the table and shrugged out of her jacket with Stan’s help. “I’m okay,” she said after a moment. She pretended not to notice that he was watching her intently. “It’s been a long day, but I’m okay. Just a little tired.”

“She’s going to be—”

“Don’t tell me she’s going to be okay,” Patty yelled, her anger surprising both of them. “Because she’s not. We all know she’s not going to be okay, so do not stand here and lie to me.” She didn’t even try to stop the tears that rushed forward. She’d cried more in the last twenty-four hours than she had in years.

Stan moved and quickly put his arms around her, holding her tightly. “Patty, don’t. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “It will never be okay.”
 

To his credit, Stan didn’t try to console her further. Instead, he held her and let her cry until finally she exhausted herself and he scooped her up, his arm under her legs, and carried her to the bedroom where she fell into a fitful sleep.
 

***

“Feeling better?” Stan asked a few hours later when Patty emerged from the bedroom. She’d taken the time to shower and change.

“I do.” She kissed Stan on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said and accepted the cup of coffee he handed her. “I swear, sometimes it’s times like these that make me wish I could have a drink.”

“But you won’t.” He looked her hard in the eyes.
 

“You know I won’t.” She blew on her hot coffee before taking as sip. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t think about it.”

Stan took her by the hand and wordlessly led her to the couch, where they both sipped on their coffee in silence. After a few minutes, Patty reached over and put the cup down on the table. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I’m ready.”
 

Stan raised a brow and waited.
 

“I’m sick of waiting and all of this with my mom,” she said, getting a faraway look. “It got me thinking. Life really is too short. Let’s do it.”
 

“Do what?” Stan asked cautiously.
 

“Let’s get married. Sell the Lady, and start the new business. I’m done, Stan. I really am.”

He put his own coffee mug down before taking Patty’s hands in his own. “What do you mean, you’re done? Don’t get me wrong, Patty. I’m happy to hear you say those words. You have no idea how happy. But…I’m confused. I’ve been asking you for years and always the same answer.” He squeezed her hands, making her look him in the eye. “What’s changed?”

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. Patty looked away, took a breath and closed her eyes. “Everything,” she said. “Everything’s changed. My mother is dying.” She spoke the words softly, as if maybe it wouldn’t be real if she didn’t say it out loud.

“But you love dancing,” Stan said. “Are you sure you want to give it all up?”
 

She laughed, but it was a harsh sound. “Give up the late nights, the strange men trying to put their hands on me?” Stan winced. “Give up the girls, half of them strung out on something, the other half so deluded with their lives that they just don’t give a crap? Um…yes,” she said. “I think I’m ready to give it up.”

Stan sat back on the sofa, stunned. In all their years together, he’d never heard Patty say a negative word about the club. “I don’t understand, Patty,” he said after a moment. “I really don’t.”

Patty squeezed his thigh and pushed up from the couch. She wandered to the window and stared out into the parking lot below. “I thought I loved it,” she said. “And maybe for a while I did. I mean, I was good at dancing. I made money. Lots of money. And that was so powerful.” Her voice faded and for a moment she was silent. “It was the only thing I could do,” she said. “I couldn’t be a mother. I was terrible at it and we all knew it. When my mom gave me the choice, Whitney or dancing, it was easy.” She turned around and looked at Stan, tears in her eyes. “I chose dancing. Not because I didn’t love her, but because I loved her enough to know I wasn’t what was best for her.”

“Patty, that’s not—”

“What could I have given her, Stan? I had nothing. I knew nothing. The only thing I was good at was stripping. And what kind of life would that have been for her? Mom was right.” She turned to look out the window again, not really seeing the cars or concrete below. “And then I got her back, sort of. But she was back in my life and I was scared, Stan. So scared. What if I screwed it up? And when you asked me to marry you, I couldn’t. But not because I didn’t love you.”

Stan crossed the room and put his hands on Patty’s shoulders. “I know, babe. I know why you couldn’t marry me.”

She spun and looked at him with watery eyes. “You do?”

“Yes.” He nodded and smiled a sad smile. “You didn’t want to lose her again. It was safer to continue the only way you knew and your mom didn’t like me. I get it. I always knew it wasn’t because you didn’t love me. It’s okay.” He kissed her on the forehead and she let herself fall into his chest.
 

“I’ve been scared for so long, Stan.”

“I know, babe.” He rubbed her back and let her cry. “I know.”
 

“But I’m done,” she said. Patty stood back and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “I’m not scared anymore.”
 

***

By the time Patty walked through the hospital doors, her tears were dried, her make-up in place and her heart soaring. Despite the sadness that hung in the air all around her, she’d never felt so sure of herself and the feeling was both empowering and a little frightening.
 

Before she could get down the hall and into her mom’s room, a nurse stopped her. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you’re Hazel’s daughter, right?”

“I am.” She eyed the young nurse suspiciously. She couldn’t have been much older than Whitney. Was that old enough to be a nurse? “Is she okay?”

The nurse flipped through a chart before answering. “Dr. Abbott asked me to update you on your mother’s status.” She flipped a bit more.

“And?” Patty crossed her arms over her chest. The nurse looked up and matched Patty’s irritated look with one of her own.
 

“And,” the nurse said, “her breathing is labored and her condition has progressed to pneumonia. She should be on a respirator right now, but she’s signed this last night, so—”

The nurse produced a piece of paper and Patty snatched it out of her hand. “What is this?”

“It’s a—”

“I can see what it is,” Patty snapped. “Why do you have it?”
 

The nurse sighed and snapped her file shut. “Because your mother signed it,” she said, with an exaggerated eye roll. “If you have any questions, I suggest you take it up with her.”

The nurse said something about needing the paper back, but Patty ignored her and stormed down the hall to her mother’s room. She was about to yell and demand an answer, but at the last minute she thought better of it, took a deep breath and tried for gentleness in her voice. “Mom?”
 

Her mom opened her eyes, and focused on Patty.
 

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

She shook her head and struggled to sit up. “Just having a rest.”

Patty pressed the button to raise the bed and waited while her mom was settled. The effort of adjusting her position took a lot more effort than Patty would’ve thought possible, and her mother gasped for a deep breath, her face chalky. “Are you okay?” Patty asked. She took her hand in her own. It was impossibly small; her skin felt like crepe paper.