Page 80 of Taming Georgia

“I just want to sit with her.”

The nurse leads me to Ethel’s room and leaves me alone with her. I stand at the doorway and take her in. She’s sleeping soundly in the hospital bed. There are IVs inserted into her arms, connected to bags of liquid on a pole by her bed. There’s a machine that seems to be monitoring her heart rate and various other things that I don’t recognize.

I slowly walk over to her, afraid to wake her. Pulling up a chair, I position it beside her bed, and I sit. She seems so different lying here, and honestly, she looks older than she ever has. It’s a shock, seeing her appear elderly and frail because that’s not how I see her. She’s always so strong, vibrant, and bold.

She’s the hardest-working person I know, and it’s a childish notion, but despite her age, I’ve never stopped to think about her dying because she’s so full of life. I’ve never imagined what it’d be like not to have her. I’ve taken her presence in my life for granted.

I should’ve loved her more, stopped her from working so hard, and spoiled her the way she deserves. This woman is more of a mother to me than my own ever was. She loves me without the bonds of blood. She loves me because she wants to. She chooses me every time and not out of obligation. She puts my happiness above everything because she truly loves me unconditionally, a feat that only she holds.

I’ve known this, but I’ve never stopped to think about the enormity of it. I’ve yet to take time to send my immense gratitude for Ethel into the universe. Most importantly, I haven’t told her. She needs to know how very thankful I am that she loves me. She needs to know that I love her just as much in return.

If she were to leave me now, I don’t know what I’d do.

I take her hand in mine. It’s cold and almost lifeless, covered in wrinkles that I’ve never seen before. I squeeze it, gently rubbing it to warm it up.

“I’m so sorry,” I choke out. “Please get better. Please be okay. I love you.”

I drop my head to the side of her bed, and I cry. My body shakes with sobs, and I don’t try to stop them. I’m completely overcome with emotion, and I just don’t know what to do. I feel so useless, sitting here. I want to help her, but I don’t know how.

I know one thing for sure. I’m not leaving her. She will wake up, she will be fine, and I will help her every step of the way.

My body grows tired, and I fall asleep with my forehead against her hospital bed, with her hand in mine, and with grief weighing heavy on my heart.

23

“Love doesn’t change a thing. People let you down just the same.”—Wyatt Gates

I’ve been sitting in this chair for sixteen hours, and Ethel still hasn’t stirred. Fear runs wild in my mind, reminding me of all the things that could go wrong. I hate that she’s not waking up.

I called Xavier to ask him to take care of Cooper and hold down the fort at the rescue while I was here. He didn’t even hesitate with his assurance that everything would be perfect when I got back. I have to talk to him when I return and let him know how valued he is.

Sitting in a hospital room, watching someone I love lie here, almost lifeless, has given me a lot of time to think, and I’ve made some realizations. First, I have to appreciate people in my life more. I always assume that they know how helpful or important they are, but sometimes, people need to hear it. Ethel tells me all the time how much she loves me and how proud she is of me. I’ve never questioned her love, and I figure she assumes that I feel the same way for her. That’s not good enough, and I know it.

I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Something else I’ve come to realize is that I had no control over the environment in which I lived and the situations I was forced to go through. I was a child, and I did the best I could with what I had. But I’m not a child anymore. I can’t go around sulking at the world because of the ways I was wronged. Living in the darkness of my past will never allow me to find the light here and now. The life that I make for myself now is my choice. If I fuck it up, that’s on me. No more excuses.

“Why so serious?” Ethel’s voice is hoarse and barely audible.

“How are you feeling?” I jump up and hit the nurse call button. “She’s awake,” I excitedly tell the nurses’ station.

I hold her hand and bend down, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “You have some explaining to do.” I narrow my eyes in her direction, and her lips tilt up in a weak smile. “And I love you. Very much. More than you realize.” I sneak in the last sentiment right before the nurse walks in.

I step out of the way as the nurse takes Ethel’s vitals and checks her IVs and medicines. When the nurse has convinced me that everything looks great, she exits the room.

I sit down next to Ethel. “I’m not going to yell at you because, well, I’d be a dick if I screamed at you in the ICU, but why didn’t you tell me?” I say, sadness in my voice. “I’m so mad that I wasn’t there for you. I’m furious that you’ve been going through this all alone. You almost died, E, and I hadn’t even known you were sick in the first place.”

She pats my hand. “You’ve lived through more than enough in your life. I didn’t want you to watch me get sick. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“What do you think family is for if not to burden them during your time of need?”

Ethel chuckles softly.

“You should’ve told me. You have to give the people you love the chance to show up for you because you’re worth showing up for. You are so loved by so many, and I know more than just me would’ve wanted to be here for you.”

“I’m not going to be an inconvenience, Wyatt. That’s not who I am.”

“It’s not a burden if I want to help, and I do. I want to. Do you want to know who you are? You are the best thing to ever happen to me. You saved me, E. You saved me.” My voice cracks with emotion. “It wasn’t until I thought I might lose you that I realized how much. It’s not fair of you to take away my choice to love you back. If something had happened to you and I wasn’t there, I would’ve lived with that guilt forever. You’re not an inconvenience. You’re family. You’re my only family.”

Ethel’s watery gaze remains on mine as the corner of her lip tilts up. “Okay.” She nods, squeezing my hand in hers. “I’m sorry.”

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