Chapter 175 Will you sing? (I)

Chapter 175 Will you sing? (I)
I arrived at Wells a day earlier. Excitement and nervousness lance through me. My steps falter as I rush up the front of Amelia’s house with my bundle of joy. Mace’s pacifier keeps him from making a sound. So far, he has been compliant, but I know he will go on his knees the first chance he gets. Now that he can crawl, no one or nothing can stop him from exploring.

The door opens, and Ashley smiles. The rat nest on her head is a testament of the toll this journey has taken on all of us involved. Lucky me never have to worry about hair. All it takes is a brush through it and I’m good. 

“At this point, you deserve a key,” she says.

I laugh it off. Pushing my way in without an invitation, my eyes scan the dim place. The living room is empty. Jason must be in Amelia’s room. Ashley pads in after me. She makes a funny face at Mace, and my son giggles around his pacifier. I turn around to face her.

“Do you want to carry him?” I ask. 

Ashley’s nod is hesitant, but she accepts him from my hands. I stretch, only now feeling the weight of carrying him for too long. We sit on the couch across from the TV. My eyes wander to the staircase twice.

“How’s she?” I whisper. Ashley shrugs. I run a finger over my brow. It has grown back. She allows Mace to get on the floor. “Will you be okay with him? I’ll go check on her.” 

“While you’re at it, try to convince her to go to the hospital,” she mutters. I stop and nod. Amelia is stubborn, more stubborn than I am. “It’s better for her there.” 

“I’ll do my best,” I say. 

Racing upstairs, I only pause to catch my breath at the top of the stairs. The door to the guest room opens. Jason’s head pokes out. He waves, and I retrace my step to him. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey,” I reply. 

Jason’s shoulders deflate. He runs a hand over his face and through his hair. I push back and relax against the wall. Being the best friend of a sick person is one thing, being the non-boyfriend of a sick person is another. I hate both cases. 

“How’s she holding up?” I ask. 

Jason stares at his feet for too long, then his shoulder hitch up in a half-shrug. “Good.” 

This new treatment has Amelia throwing up, feeling weaker and spending numerous nights at the clinic. I had expected she would be at the clinic today, as always, but a call to Ashley was the reason I came straight to the house. The doctor said it will get worse before it gets better. That has to count for something. 

I cross my legs at the ankles, my eyes on the door of my best friend’s room. On some days, I’m scared to go in. Today seems to be one of those days. Rose and Taylor will be flying in next week. They don’t fail to check in daily. I’m slowly losing it but my facade of bravery never cracks. I have to be strong for me and Mace. Mace. Thinking of him makes me smile. He has absolutely no idea. 

“When do you have to go back?” I ask him.

“Not anytime soon.” 

My fingers sink into the wall. Unlike us, his one-man business will suffer if he is away for too long and he has been away for nearly a month. I nudge him with my foot. 

Jason throws his head back, and it connects softly with the wall. “What’s the point of it all though?” he says. His eyes half-close. He flexes his fingers and lets out a sigh. “The business will survive without me for a few days.” 

I push away from the wall and jerk my head towards her room. “Should we go check on her?” 

Jason straightens up. He rubs his hand over his eyes. I avoid his gaze. These days I avoid looking at his sunken eyes. Does he regret choosing Amelia? She hasn’t budged on her stance. She doesn’t want to be his girlfriend and I’m up for anything my best friend says.

“Yeah. The doctor should be gone now.” 

My heart palpitates. Is it a bad thing if the doctors are in the house instead? I massage the back of my neck, my foot shooting out.

“Why haven’t you tried to convince her to go to the hospital?” I whisper. If anyone can convince Amelia, it’s him. Maybe me, too.

“Hospitals make her sicker.” That’s what she told him. “Does it really matter if she gets the same care and attention from home?” 

I shake my head fast, and Jason chuckles. The hospital conversation is over. Without a word to him, I start towards Amelia’s room. The quiet of the house hovers above me like an evil spirit. I reach the door but the knob twists and Mrs Greene steps out. Her smile is automatic. So fake. We’re all getting better at it.

“Catherine,” she says. My arms wrap around her in a tight hug. I cannot imagine how it feels to be her. The first few days after Mace’s birth were the most horrifying days of my life but that seems to pale in comparison to her current situation. She breaks the hug. Her hands move up to wipe my tears. She looks behind me for the first time. “Hey, Jason.” 

“Hey,” he replies. 

“I’ll go in,” I tell her. 

Mrs Greene nods and pulls me in for a brief hug. Tugging on my big girl shorts, I twist the knob and the door opens. The stench of drugs and death weave into the air, a smell that overpowers me every time I’m here.

I tiptoe inside to avoid waking Amelia. But when I stop at the foot of the bed, her eyes fly open. She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I crawl into her bed and pull the cover over both of us. There are no tubes in her nose, nothing connected to her arms. 

It’s a surprise but welcome sight.

“Hey, you,” I say with a cheeriness I don’t feel. 

Amelia closes her eyes. “You don’t have to fake it.” 

The veins in her face are visible. Her hair, or what’s left of it, is hidden inside a beanie. I place my moist palm over hers. She doesn’t open her eyes, but she visibly relaxes. I place an elbow on the pillow and stare down at her. 

“Jason said the doctor was here?” I whisper. She nods. I don’t like that she looks weaker than the last time I was here. Her eyebrows are gone. I trace the spot where they used to be and she smiles. “What did he say?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies. 

I want to ask her about the tubes, the IV, why she looks so pale but I’m scared of her answer. I doubt the treatments are working.

“Why don’t you want to go to the hospital?” 

“I told him I wanted to die at home. In my bed.” 

“Amelia!” My voice goes higher than I intended. I point my index finger at her nose. “You are not dying, okay? You’ll be fine. Alright?” 

“It’s not working, Cathy.” Reaching a bony finger to her head, she yanks the beanie off her scalp. I swallow tightly. There’s no single hair on her scalp. “It’s not working.” 
“It’s just hair,” I say more to myself. People lose their hair from chemo all the time, and when they recover, it grows. I pry the beanie from her and pull it back over her scalp. “It will grow back, Amelia. I promise.”  

“Okay.” Offering me a tight smile, she laces our fingers. I push a pillow behind her so she can sit up. She has to take a few deep breaths, but she succeeds. I sit facing her. “What have you been up to? Where’s Mace?” 

“Mace is with your sister,” I reply. My cheeks heat up, and the initial excitement sneaks up on me again. “I wrote a song.” 

I have never written a song. I’m just good at covers and singing what I’m instructed to. 

Amelia beams. “Really?” I nod so fast I’m afraid I’ll have a whiplash. She might not understand the extent of my excitement, but I’m glad to share this moment with her. “Can I see it? Can I hear it? Will you sing?”