Chapter 19

NINETEEN

I don't want to do this.

I can't walk into that room and see her, knowing what I'll see. I want to remember her with the sun in her hair and her fresh dirt-coated fingers. I want to remember her dancing among the flowers with the ocean crashing onto the shore behind her, singing along to her favorite Beatles song, Hey, Jude.

"She lost consciousness last night. We've seen episodes like this in cases such as hers. Sometimes the chemo does more damage to other organs in the body before it can eliminate the cancer," the doctor explains. His words are muffled and suffocating. "Her housekeeper found her this morning and called the ambulance. Luckily, she kept breathing even though she fainted, but we haven't been able to wake her since she was brought in. We believe she was left too long and there's been some damage to her brain."

I swallow the lump in my throat and wring my black tie around my fingers. I squeeze until my knuckles turn white.

"She's named you as next of kin," he tells me, almost as dryly as if he were ordering a cup of coffee.

I snap my head up, and the world crumbles under my feet.

"What?" I ask him, running my hand down my face. "What does that mean exactly?"

"It means you have to make a choice."

"What choice?"

"The choice whether to keep her on life support or to let her go."

"Let her go?" I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. "What do you mean, let her go?" I'm genuinely confused. I don't understand.

"We can discuss her condition further and you can weigh your decision, Mr. Harding," he explains. "But ultimately, you will have to decide."

I swallow the lump in my throat, feeling like my body is going to implode.

I leave the doctor standing outside the room and push through the door. She's lying on her back with her head turned to the side. The machine rhythmically beeps in the background—apparently the same machine that's keeping her breathing.

Her head is turned toward me, but her eyes remain closed. A tube is connected to her mouth, pumping her lungs with oxygen. Her chest rises dramatically. Unnaturally. I swallow the heavy, thick lump in my throat, and with a shaky hand, I reach out for hers but stop when the door opens behind me.

Jude walks in. His hair is messy and his tie hangs loose around his neck. I narrow my eyes at him, wondering where the fuck he's been.

"Where were you?" I yell, unable to keep my anger back. I know it isn't him I'm truly angry at. I stand and face him, curling my hands into fists at my sides.

He runs an exhausted hand down the side of his face, tears welling in his bloodshot eyes. "I'm sorry. I was at this fundraiser for the fraternity."

I charge toward him, the sour scent of alcohol hitting my nose inches from his face. "Are you fucking drunk?"

His blood shot eyes wobble, unfocused as he sniffs. Pain, guilt, fear, and too much alcohol. That's all I see.

"Yes." He sighs. "Dad urged me to go."

"No." I point an angry finger at him. "You don't fucking blame this on him."

"Everything is his fault!" he yells back. He runs another exhausted hand down the side of his face.

"Trust me when I say the man deserves to burn in Hell for every single fucking thing he's done, and I want to blame him for it all. But you're responsible for your own fucking choices, little brother. Get a fucking grip."

"Where is he?" Jude asks, venom clouding his blue eyes. The same eyes as our mother.

"Dad?" I ask, lifting a brow. "Fuck if I know. You're the one always trying to crawl up his ass just to please him."

"Fuck you, Len," he spits, the veins in his neck bulging. "You're just as much of a suck up to Dad and you know it."

"Yeah, well, I never let it get in the way of taking care of Mom, did I?"

"You're an asshole," he says, quietly.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm sorry, Jude. I didn't mean it." I look up at my brother apologetically.

He steels his face and sniffs, hardening his drunk eyes.

"We shouldn't be arguing right now." He looks over my shoulder, his eyes immediately softening when he sees her.

"No, we shouldn't."

"What did the doctor say?" He moves to the other side of the bed. Jude grabs her other hand and holds onto it. He gently sits beside her.

I choke on the words, unable to get them out. My vision blurs, and I sniff, holding back the tears from suffocating me. I shake my head. I need to be strong for my brother. I need to be strong for her because my father never could be.

"I have to make a choice," I manage to choke out.

"What?" Jude gasps, looking over his shoulder and twisting to look up at me.

"She put me in charge of deciding. The doctor says there's nothing they can do."

"What the fuck?" My brother runs his hands through his hair. My heart shatters as I watch his face transition, the reality slamming into him. His neck hardens, and his mouth turns down in a frown as he chokes on a sob. His shoulders quake, and the sound of his voice as he cries breaks me. If I wasn't already broken, I know I am now.

"No, Mom." He leans forward and rests his head on her hand. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm so sorry."

I watch my mother, willing her to react. Anything to prove to the doctors she isn't as damaged as they say she is. I want her to prove they're liars.

When I look at her, I swear I see her large, round, midnight blue eyes open. A kaleidoscope of fear and love swirling in them.

"What are you going to do, Lennon?"

"What?" I ask on a breath, darting my eyes to my little brother. Even in his drunken state, his eyes are wide open. It's as if I can see straight into his broken soul. I wish I could reach inside and fix him. I wish I could grab my mother's hand and she'd magically wake from this nightmare.

"What are you going to do?" Jude asks again, desperation in his voice. "What are you going to do?"

My entire body is rigid, hard as stone. I want to scream, but the sound gets caught in my throat. At least momentarily. I work around the panic, and before I realize it, my voice is bleeding into the shadows of my bedroom. White knuckled, I clutch onto my bed sheets, hoping they'll anchor me. But the panic comes back in an unrelenting and unforgiving wave, the sound of the beeping machine echoing in my brain.

"Fuck!" I scream into my pillow. Tears stream down my face, and my neck tightens. I can feel the veins bulging from my skin, begging to burst.

I see his face, looking at me, asking me what I'm going to do. I see her head lying against the pillow, but she isn't sleeping. No. She's looking at me with her large, round eyes, asking why I did this to her.

"No." I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut, willing the images to disappear. "No!" I scream. "Stop!" I want to get them the fuck out, but they refuse to leave. I don't know why this happens time and time again with them just staring at me, begging me to fix what's permanently broken.

Is there something wrong with me? Did I truly fuck up in my decision to let her go? Is this a choice I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life? Is this the price I paid for my sin?

The echoing sound of the pen scribbling my name across the thin paper attached to the hospital clipboard rings in my ears, and I swear, it's all it takes for my heart to stop beating. Just like hers.

Good.

I fucking deserve it.