Page 92 of Quiet Beautiful Things

Even though I don’t share her view that she’s somehow being punished by the universe, I’m not about to argue with her. I will agree, however, that it’s a good dose of karma.

“Are you really dying or are you just saying that to get sympathy?”

“Do you know anything about stage four pancreatic cancer?”

I don’t know much about cancer, but I’ve heard that’s a really bad one. “Not really.”

“They call it EOPC—early onset pancreatic cancer. I was fifteen when my mom died of the same thing.It was horrible forher at the end. I guess it must have been hereditary. Or maybe it was just fate.”

“They can’t treat it?”

“By the time they found it, it was too late. I missed all the signs. When I was using, the drugs masked the symptoms. And then when I came here, we all assumed the lack of appetite, the weight loss, and the fatigue were all part of withdrawal. Last month, when I wasn’t showing any signs of improvement, I was given a full workup.”

“How long do you have?”

She shrugs. “A few months maybe. It doesn’t really matter. As soon as they kick me out of here I’m going to go outmyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think it does.”

I look around at the expansive gardens. “Why even stay here if you’re going to use again when you leave?”

“Because there’s nothing for me out there,” she says, staring off in the distance. “Here, I have friends for the first time in a long time. Addiction is a lonely disease, Blake, when your primary relationship is with drugs. These people get me. They’re just like me. I’m staying here until my ninety days are up, then I’m going to go out on my own terms. End stage pancreatic cancer is unforgiving. Even if I deserve every bit of pain and suffering. But I can’t go through it. Not after watching what it did to my mom.”

“Wait, you don’t have a mom? Then who hired the PI to find me?”

“My dad and his new trophy wife.”

It almost makes sense now, why they didn’t want Maisy. The guy has a drug addict daughter and a ‘difficult’ grandchild his new young wife probably wanted nothing to do with. I scold myself for being one of those men who lets their cock make decisions for them. Or I used to be anyway.

“Do you… have a picture of her?” She looks guilty for asking.

I hesitate to do anything for this woman. But she is dying. So I get out my phone and scroll through until I find one. It’s now when I realize all of my pictures over the past few months are of Maisy. Her alone. Her and Ellie. Her and Bolt. There are even a few selfies I took of the two of us together. It’s a far cry from what my photo album looked like before Maisy.

I hand over my phone, showing her a picture I took of Maisy in one of her favorite dresses. Lucinda’s hand flies to cover her mouth. “Oh my God. I’ve never seen her look like that.” She touches the photo. “She looks so different. And she looks like you, but with my hair.” She swipes the screen and scrolls through more. “You have a cat? She always carried around an old stuffed cat.”

“I know. It’s why I got her one. She loves him. He’s got a disability.”

Lucinda looks up at me, surprised.

“Don’t look so shocked. Maisy is the one who chose him. She’s an amazing little girl.”

“And she’s…talking?”

“She’s signing. She only knows about two hundred signs at this point. That’s not a lot, but it’s enough to be able to communicate her needs. She’s learning more every day.”

“Two hundred seems like a lot.”

“It’s not. The average four-to-five-year-old will know twenty-five-hundred signs.”

She nods, still scrolling through the phone. She stops and studies a photo of Ellie and Maisy. “Is this your wife?”

“That’s one of Maisy’s teachers.”

She scrolls more. “She looks like more than just a teacher.” She closes her eyes and hands me the phone. “I’m glad she’s with you. She’s where she belongs.”

I scrub a hand across my jaw, knowing I have to ask. “You wanted me to bring her here to say goodbye, didn’t you?”

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