Page 15 of Close Match
I don’t know if I can walk in there and do this. I’m not acting a role; this is my life.
I have to. There’s no other choice.
Gathering up the kit and the stained cloth, I move to the door and open it. Cara’s waiting outside with a bag. “Here, give me that.” She nods at the towel.
I gratefully drop it in. We begin walking down the hallway toward the room where my family is waiting. Laying my hand on her arm, I whisper, “In case I forget to thank you later, I appreciate all you’ve done. I can’t imagine this is the most rewarding part of your job.”
Turning, I start to open the door when I hear her say, “No, but moments like this help me get through the others.” Her soft-soled shoes squeak as she moves away.
The moment I open the door, Bristol jumps up with an eager look on her face. “How’s Mom?”
Tears flood my eyes. “Not good.” Bristol’s face collapses.
“Shit,” Simon bites out.
Veronica’s lip trembles.
Taking a deep breath, I tell them what happened. In the end, we’re all holding each other up, but we’re missing an important piece.
Mom.
* * *
Hours later,Dr. Pilchner comes into the room with a defeated look on his face. My heart cracks wide open and is bleeding as surely as Mom’s was.
“I’m so sorry,” he croaks out. Veronica grips my hand as Bristol falls sobbing into Simon’s arms. “We couldn’t get her stable again. There was too much damage.”
It’s Simon who asks, “Can you leave us for now, Doctor? We may have questions later, but right now, we need to be alone.”
“Of course. Just have me paged when you would like to speak with me. Again, I’m so terribly sorry.”
I can’t care about how he’s feeling. The tidal wave of pain is crushing as I realize this hurt will never go away.
Mom will never be able to walk my sister down the aisle. Bristol’s baby will never get to be loved by its nana. I’ll never again hear stories of her and Veronica on the road in their early days as dancers. She’ll never get to buy another ridiculous purse or goad Bristol and me into trying some ridiculous restaurant she saw on Food Network.
Broadway will never be the same ever. The lights will come down not only on the theater but in my heart.
Brielle Brogan is dead. Legend, friend, but most importantly, mother.
It’s with this thought I break down, my hysterical tears matching those of my sister’s.
Eight
Montague
Inova Schar Cancer Institute, in Fairfax, Virginia, is a state-of-the-art cancer center. With a team of nationally renowned doctors and genetic counselors, the treatment plan they’ve had Ev on for his chronic myeloid leukemia has held him in this static state for more than two years. Two years I’ve been grateful for every moment not only so I could try to get my shit straight, but it’s afforded me time to make critical decisions—the biggest one being move back to the farm. This way Mom doesn’t have to watch Ev suffer through this fucking disease alone.
We’re waiting while Ev’s getting his blood drawn, and she gasps.
“What? What is it?”
Mom’s scrolling through a news site on her iPad. “Remember that show we saw on Broadway last week?”
“Of course. You haven’t stopped making my ears bleed by trying to sing like the lead since,” I gently tease.
She whacks me in the arm. “Cute, Monty. The woman who played the part of the mother died.”
That gets my attention. “Seriously?”
