Page 3 of In Too Deep

Robbie’s vacant, walnut-brown eyes lift to find me, and he runs his hand through his thick, dark hair as he stands. My eyes widen slightly, giving away my surprise when he opens his arms for me, but I round the table and walk into his embrace without hesitation. My bottled-up emotions knot in my stomach as I wrap my arms around him, his linebacker frame engulfing me.

Robbie has always been like a brother to me, but we have a lot of history. Not all of it good.

His hug is so firm it restricts my breathing, but I don’t complain, squeezing him back just as tightly. I’m not a tiny person myself, not in height or width, but I certainly feel that way in his arms. It brings me comfort, like a child in the protective arms of a loved one. He releases me and meets my gaze with tired, sad eyes.

“Care is in the back with Dad.” His tone drips with defeat, and it makes me want to hug him again. Instead, he sits back at the table as I move away. “Mom and Pam are back there with him too.”

I nod and turn toward the hall. It feels as if he’s dismissing me, but I’m not sure I’m ready to face what’s waiting for me behind the last door on the left. My feet reluctantly begin to carry me in that direction, but Dave’s cries of pain echo down the narrow path, stopping me in my tracks as my entire body stiffens with fear.

Before I can retreat, Pam, Caroline’s older sister, comes out of the room, spotting me. She gives me a weak smile that doesn’t reach her wet eyes and walks over. I’m grateful when she doesn’t try to hug me, knowing I’d soak up all her emotions like a sponge until they seeped out of me.

“You can go in to see Daddy, if you want. Mom and Care are in there with him.”

Moving my eyes past her to his bedroom door, I nod in understanding and continue in that direction. Once I’m inside the room, it takes my mind a moment to process everything.

Dave is lying in the bed with his eyes closed, looking much frailer than the last time I saw him. Even if he wasn’t moaning in agony, you can physically see the toll his cancer is taking on him. His cheeks are sunken in. His round belly now flat. His skin is the color of ash.

Caroline, sitting next to him on the far side of the bed holding his hand, only takes her gaze off him long enough to acknowledge my presence. Her eyes and hair are almost identical to her brother’s, though her short, thin frame makes it hard to believe they’re siblings. She looks more like a little girl than a full-grown woman. The sorrow in her brief glance is pleading, as if she’s begging me to fix him.

Fuck you, cancer.

Caroline’s mother, Sarah, is on the other side of the bed, fussing over his blankets and pillows. Once she finishes, she turns her attention to his nightstand, rearranging pill bottles. When she finally notices me, she gives a mumbled greeting before flurrying out the door with the excuse of needing to call hospice again.

I walk over to stand next to Caroline. “Hey. How are you holding up?”

She doesn’t bother to look at me as she shakes her head. After listening to her break down this morning, I know it’s taking everything in her to hold herself together. “Daddy, Cat is here.” Dave attempts to respond, but it’s nothing more than grunting, and my heart seizes in my chest. “He’s in so much pain,” Caroline whispers, still not taking her focus off her father. “Hospice wasn’t scheduled to be here until Monday, but…” Her words trail off, though she doesn’t need to finish the thought. He won’t be here by then. “We don’t have anything to give him for the pain. Momma has been trying to get someone here all day. I don’t understand what’s taking so long.”

I place my hand on her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze. “I’m sure someone will be here soon.”

Of course, I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s the only thing I know to say. The only way I know to comfort her right now. I’ve been cursing myself all morning; angry I haven’t been there for Caroline during all this. The last time I’d seen any of them was a few weeks after Christmas when Dave was admitted to the hospital for pain. Before that, he seemed to be doing so well. Everyone thought he was in remission, that he would get to be around for many years to come and see his grandchildren grow up. But it was during that stay we learned the cancer had been spreading. It had progressed so much his only option was to try some experimental treatments. Those had only produced negative effects on his body.

Caroline stands, finally meeting my eyes. “I should probably go out back to check on the kids. William is out there with them, but he’s a mess.” Caroline’s husband and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but my heart goes out to him today too. He and Dave have become so close over the years. “Do you mind sitting with Daddy for a minute?”

Panic runs through me like a shockwave, but I force a smile and nod, stepping aside so she can leave the room. Once I’m alone with Dave, my heart beats angrily against my ribcage. I know this is the perfect time for me to say my goodbye, but I’m not sure I can handle it.

It may sound morbid, but I practiced what I wanted to say to Dave all morning. It isn’t every day you have to prepare yourself for the last conversation you’ll ever have with someone. I want it to go as smoothly as possible. My plan is to tell him how I love him like a father, and how much I appreciate everything he and Sarah did for me as a kid. I’ve considered even throwing in some humor about how I used to wake them up at night and eat them out of house and home as if I were one of their own. But standing here now, looking at him and knowing he’ll be gone soon, it’s all a jumbled mess in my head.

“Dave? It’s Cat.” His head moves in my direction, and for the first time since I entered the room, he tries to open his eyes. When his lips curve into a faint smile and he attempts to say my name, I nearly lose my composure.

I manage to keep myself together, only to begin weeping two seconds into my rehearsed speech. My sobs become uncontrollably loud, and I have no clue what I’m saying by the time Sarah comes back in the room, not so subtly leading me right back out of it. Not that I blame her. We may all be aware Dave is dying, but my little performance practically rubbed everyone’s nose in it.

* * *

After my mortifying moment, I find a quiet corner in the living room to hide and collect myself. Dave and Sarah’s tiny home is packed with people now. Siblings, cousins, neighbors, and church members, in addition to their three kids, their spouses, and nine grandkids—each kid having three of their own. It’s all too much, and it’s only adding to my anxiety.

I mentally check out, watching people come and go, nodding and smiling on cue. I’m here, but not. It’s what I do, my defense mechanism. Like a turtle retreating into their shell.

Just when I think the house can’t possibly hold another person, I hear the screech of the front door opening, and I feel him before I see him. It’s something instinctual, like when your body alerts you to an impending threat. It rips me from my suspended state and slams me back into reality. The knot in my stomach and goosebumps on my skin are all the evidence I need to know it’s him.

My gaze is locked on the front door, my pulse drumming with anticipation as I wait for him to walk through it. I want to run, to shed my skin and disappear, but there’s no way out.

He steps inside, and I scold my traitorous stomach for fluttering at the sight of him.

Lawrence Grier was the first boy I ever loved, and the only one to ever break my heart. He shouldn’t still impact me this way, but this always happens. I can go years without so much as laying eyes on him—it’s been nine this time—all while believing I’m completely over him. Then I see him again, and I know it was merely a lie I told myself.

His hold on me is permanent.

Lawrence’s eyes land on Robbie, who’s sitting directly across from the front door. My breath is shallow as I watch him make his way over to his best friend. Not even the guilt gnawing at my gut can convince me to pull my gaze away from him.

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