Page 103 of Close Match
“Don’t.” I wince, knowing I don’t deserve his praise but his condemnation. I’m so weak inside where it counts, I’m surprised I haven’t buckled under the weight of my burdens. My mind has no idea how to handle what’s happening, but I can’t admit it because to do so is to show weakness I can’t admit to.
They need my strength, the illusion of it, even if it doesn’t really exist. So, I keep silent all the while screaming in pain.
My mind’s as broken as my heart right now as I recall Ev talking about how he knows if the worst happens, he can rely on me to take care of Char and Linnie. Absolutely, I assured him—without a doubt.
Take care of Linnie.
Ev’s words seem to be stuck on repeat in my head. From the beginning, I’ve been drawn to her, protective toward her. She’s worth everything, even the things I can’t figure out how to give to her. Ev thinks I need to give her strength, but the reality is she gives it to me. I’d be drowning in a puddle if not for her tampering down my need. But this woman? She makes me want to try.
Rolling over slightly, I lift a trembling hand to her glorious mane of hair. We leave in just a few hours so they can prepare her for surgery. If fortune shines on us, we’ll be back here tomorrow night while Ev will rest in preparation to receive the miracle this woman is about to deliver.
Sixty-Two
Montague
I’m terrified right now. The doctors performing the aspiration just left, letting us know that Linnie’s in recovery, but she’s not breathing well. Her oxygen levels aren’t stabilizing the way they want them to. Mom’s clutching at me, leaning on me, when a phone in my left pocket starts to vibrate. I frown and pull away. It’s Linnie’s cell. She didn’t want to include it in her personal belongings, so she handed it to me.
Pulling it out, I check who could be calling, and my breathing accelerates. I press the small green button as I step away from my mother. “Yes?” I growl into the phone.
“Monty? It’s Simon. Is Linnie there? Bristol wants to talk with her. We had the baby and…”
“Linnie’s a little busy right now.”
“Look, I know what’s going on. Bristol told me.” I move farther away from my mother so she can’t hear me rip a new asshole into someone she welcomed into her home.
“Did she tell you about the surgery being today?”
There’s a sharp inhale on the other end of the line. “What surgery? I know she was going to donate some blood or something to help him out.”
A bitter laugh escapes. “It’s a lot more complicated than that. Linnie went under anesthesia today to donate her bone marrow for Ev.” The words get stuck in my throat. “We just got word she’s having difficulty breathing now. So, when I say she’s a little busy, it’s because her oxygen rate is so low, they have a nasal cannula shoved up to keep her breathing regulated.”
“Jesus Christ,” Simon snaps, fear in his voice evident. Through the phone, I hear the slap, slap of his feet against the floor as he runs. Presumably, he stepped out of Bristol’s hospital room to make the call.
“I don’t think you get the full implications of what we’ve been dealing with.” I don’t realize I’m yelling until my mother plucks the phone from my hands.
“Hello, Simon. It’s Char.” Mom pauses. “No, honey. We’re still waiting for news.” Her voice cracks. “We hate to bring such worry to you under such a monumental occasion.” She pauses again. “I’m certain she’d appreciate hearing from her sister when she’s recovered, yes. No, I’m not sure how long that will be. It was supposed to be an easy procedure. She should have been able to come home today, but now…” Mom shakes off her anxiety, which I know is rising. She plows on, briefing Linnie’s family much more calmly than I would have. My stress is through the roof over the idea that Linnie is back there incapacitated and I can’t do a damn thing to help her. “We were told during the advocate briefings Linnie’s recovery from the aspiration can take several weeks. Of course, you’re welcome to come to see her when you are able to travel. No, Ev won’t be home for some time.” There’s a long pause. So long, I begin to wonder what’s going on until I hear, “Bristol, please stop crying. I don’t think I can handle any more tears other than my own right now.” Simon must have made it back into his wife’s room and put us on speaker.
A haze of fury envelops me. “Give me the phone, Mom,” I demand. This is not what she needs right now. None of us do. I need to be focused on saving the core of our family before we’re incapable of keeping it safe any longer from the cancer trying to kill it.
Literally.
She delicately wipes her lashes. “We’re so happy for all of you, Bristol. Our congratulations to you. I’ll be sure to tell Linnie about her nephew when—” Mom’s voice breaks. “—she’s awake in recovery. Bye for now, honey.”
Even as Mom’s handing me back Linnie’s phone, I’m demanding, “I was fine. Why didn’t you let me…?”
“Because, Monty, you’re so angry because things aren’t going well with Linnie. You’re looking for someone to take your frustration out on, but Bristol and Simon aren’t it. Linnie’s family is important to her,” Mom scolds me gently.
“My way would have made me feel better,” I mutter.
“For now, because you’re worried about Linnie and Ev. Later, you would have regretted it.” She pats my arm.
Sighing, I ask, “Think anyone would mind if I take the flask in my jacket and whip it out?”
Mom laughs, thinking I’m joking. I’m not. If I don’t suck back something to calm my nerves soon, I’m going to storm through the doors of the recovery room and take out my fury on the unsuspecting hospital staff. “If you have things under control here, I’m off to find some coffee. Do you want some?”
“Sure. Thanks, Mom.” I kiss her brow. After she disappears, I reach into the inner pocket of my coat and yank out the leather-encased flask. Unscrewing the top, I tip it up to my lips. The vodka goes down smooth. Not knowing what lies ahead, I don’t drink the whole thing. Recapping it, I slip it into my pocket only to meet sets of shocked eyes. Slowly, people who had been sitting next to Mom and I begin standing and moving to chairs in the far corners of the waiting room. They begin whispering among themselves while looking at me.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at them.
