Page 23 of Promise Me Nothing
I clench my jaw, shake my head. Bunch of fucking crocs, these doctors. Always with thewait and see,as if we aren’t sitting around absolutely terrified of what comes next.
“That’s bullshit. We’re getting another opinion.”
She looks at me with sad eyes. “Wyatt…”
“Not about the diagnosis itself. Okay? I just… there has to be a better solution than just doing nothing.”
She leans her head back against the lounger, her eyes looking up at the sky. But eventually, she nods.
“Is there anything I can do around here to make things easier?” I ask. “For anyone?”
She tilts her head to look at me, a sweet, gentle, unguardedness in her eyes that is so unlike her. “No. Just be here. That’s all we want. That’s the only thing that will make any of this feel manageable.”
I nod, just once, then lean over and give my mom a kiss on the cheek.
She lifts a hand and places it on my shoulder. “I love you, Wyatt. And I’m glad you came home.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand, trying not to focus on the tightness in my chest. Then I stand up and head back inside.
Vicky will have taken my bag out to the guesthouse, knowing I typically prefer privacy and dread the idea of staying in one of the guestrooms in the main house. But before I head out there and get settled in for the evening, I have one more thing to do.
I jog up the staircase to the second floor, then head down the long hallway to the bedroom at the very end.
Cracking the door open, a sliver of light slices through the room, illuminating the tiny body that rests in my mom’s bed. She’s curled up on her side, totally passed out, dead to the world, and snoring like a fucking chain saw.
I smile to myself, debating for just a minute whether I should wake Ivy or let her sleep and just say hello in the morning.
My sister has her own bedroom, but I know she’s been sleeping in here with mom for the past few years. Part of me thinks it’s unhealthy, and I’ve talked to my mom about it before. But another part of me can’t help but see what they’re both going through right now.
I step into the room, leaving the door cracked, and wander over to the other side of the bed where I can see my little sister’s face. She looks so at peace right now, so adorable and fresh-faced the way only a twelve-year-old can. I can’t muster up the will to wake her when mom told me she’s been having trouble sleeping over the past few weeks.
But before I can even make it back to the door, I hear a small voice mumble in my direction.
“Are you seriously not going to say hello to me?”
I spin around and find Ivy has rolled to her other side and faces me, a sleepy smile on her face.
Sorry,I sign, though my smile is just as big as hers.I just didn’t want to wake you.
Come give me a hug. And then she lifts her arms out, a silent command.
And, of course, I follow her directions, crawling up onto the bed and wrapping my arms around her, giving her a tight squeeze.
Once we’re done hugging, I kick off my boots and lean up against the wall, looking down at her.
When did you get here?she asks, her hands moving quickly with the skill of someone who has been signing her entire life.
Not that long. I talked to mom for a few minutes, then came up here to see you.
My signing is a bit choppier. I didn’t start learning until much later, since there’s a big gap between our ages. And Ivy is always making fun of me for how poorly I sign.
How did she seem to you?
I sigh.Honestly? Not good. But I figure that’s okay. It’s a lot for her to take in. You know.I smirk.Now that she isn’t a plastic anymore.
Ivy giggles.
She loves when I talk about mom being a human Barbie. I’m the only person in her life that doesn’t see mom as this perfect untouchable thing, and it makes Ivy feel like mom is more relatable somehow.
