Page 97 of Look on the Bright Side

“Hi,” she said when a man about her father’s age answered the door. “I’m Lark, the hospice volunteer.”

“Oh, fantastic,” he said. “Andrew Doane. Can you stay with my wife while I run to the drugstore? I have to get a prescription refill and thought I’d grab some groceries, too.”

“Of course,” Lark said. Her hands were shaking.

“Let me introduce you.” He led her down a hallway lined with family photos—the family at the beach, babies, weddings, someone with missing teeth, a boy with a baseball mitt, a couple in front of the Eiffel Tower. The images flashed past, and then they were in a bedroom, where a skeletally thin woman lay on a hospital bed.

“Babe, this is Lark, from hospice. She’s gonna stay with you while I do a quick errand, okay?”

The woman turned to face Lark. She had a few tufts of hair left, no eyebrows, and her eyes rolled a little—morphine, Lark guessed.

“Hi,” she breathed. “I’m Nancy.” She smiled, and her teeth looked enormous and yellow, thanks to the chemo.

“Lark,” she said. “Great to meet you.” Her gaze bounced around the room. More pictures of children. A small statue of a dog. A jewelry box on the bureau, a necklace hanging from the corner of the mirror.

“I’ll be back in an hour, ninety minutes tops, okay?” her husband said. “Love you.”

“Love you more. Wait.” She took a slow breath, eyes closed. “Can you…go to the…beach and get me…a white stone?” She probably had lung metastases, Lark thought. God.

The husband hesitated.

“Alone time,” Nancy breathed, and she smiled, though her eyes were closed.

“You’ll have plenty of alone time soon enough, don’t you think?” he said, trying for a joke. But his voice caught.

“Breathe the…air for me. Come back smelling…like the…ocean.” Breathing was definitely labored. If Lark had her stethoscope, she knew she’d hear all sorts of horrors.

“Okay, honey,” said the husband, his voice thick. He kissed her hand and rested his forehead on her lap for a second. His wife touched his hair with a thin hand, and Lark had to look away. “Okay.” He stood to leave. “Whatever you want. Thanks, um…what was your name again?”

“Lark. Oh, does she have everything she needs? I’m not allowed to give her any food or drink.”

“Right there,” he said, nodding at a water bottle with a straw on the night table. There were at least ten prescription bottles there as well, in addition to tissues, wipes, a lollipop. “I’ll be back soon. Love you, honey.”

“Love you,” Nancy whispered back.

When the front door closed, Lark sat in the chair next to the bed. Nancy seemed to be asleep. Someone had painted her nails recently. Bright pink. Very cheerful.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Nancy?” Lark whispered.

No answer but for her labored breathing. Lark’s heart shook, but she took Nancy’s fragile hand in her own. “You’re safe,” she whispered. “You’re home. You’re okay.” Dante’s words. Just the thought of him made her feel a little braver.

“Thanks,” Nancy breathed. She opened her eyes, looked at Lark’s T-shirt, which read Sorry I’m late. I saw a dog, and smiled. “I’m more of…a cat…person.”

On cue, a striped cat jumped up on the bed and started purring. “Who’s this handsome beast?” Lark asked.

“Oscar. My…buddy.” Her other hand found the cat and stroked his fur. “I’m pretty close,” she said. “I can…feel it. I was thinking…” She paused for breath. “Now…would be good.”

“Good for…” Lark’s toes clenched, and her heart rate kicked into A-fib. This is not about you. Or Justin. Be here. Be present.

“Dying.” Her voice was so weak. “I don’t want them…to see me go.” Tears leaked out of her eyes. “The kids…were here last…night. Baby, too.” Her breath was rattling now. “Don’t want…to say goodbye again. I can’t.”

“I hear you,” Lark whispered. It was one of Dr.Unger’s lines, just to let the patient know that whatever the reason they were here, he was listening. “That white stone is more for him, then.” Her voice shook, but not too badly.

“Exactly.” Nancy opened her eyes again and looked at Lark. “I’m tired,” she whispered. “I don’t want…to die. But this…isn’t living.”

“I understand.” Her eyes burned, but she’d be damned if she’d let a single tear fall. “I get it.”

“Talk…to me. About anything.”

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