Five Days Left (21 page)

“I’m going to be ugly and pale and thin and covered in spit, sooner than you think. You’re going to have to push me around in a wheelchair.”

“I don’t care.”

“If you want to take me anywhere, that is. You’ll be so embarrassed of me, it’ll be such a hassle to cart me around, that you’ll want to just stay in the house, hiding.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m going to forget who you are. Who Laks is. I’m going to stop talking. I’m going to have to move into a nursing home, and you won’t want to come see me. You’ll make yourself come out of duty. You’ll make Laks. And she’ll hate me.” She scowled at the thought and turned away, but he put a hand on her chin, forcing her to turn her face back to his.

“She won’t,” he said, his gaze steady.

“You’ll never be able to retire. Nursing homes cost a fortune. You’ll have to work till you’re seventy. Laks will end up in some community college.”

He laughed softly. “Do you pay attention to the investment statements I show you? I could retire tomorrow and we’d be fine.”

She squinted at him and he laughed again, and this time he was the one to lean over and kiss her. “I could,” he said. “And I will want to see you. Of course I will. And so will Laks. It won’t be a duty for either of us. And she could never hate you.”

“She will. And you will, too. You’ll end up lonely and miserable, visiting some old husk of a person who doesn’t even know you. When you could be out. Meeting someone else. Marrying someone young and healthy, starting a new life.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want a new life. I want this life. With you.”

“But I’ll be—”

“You’ll be the love of my life. For the rest of my life.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. She felt him shift beside her until he was on his side, facing her. He slid an arm underneath her, draped the other across her and pulled her close. Soon, she heard his breathing slow, felt his grip around her slacken. Carefully, she eased herself out of his arms and sat watching him sleep. He really was a work of art. “You mean a piece of work,” he always answered, laughing. And she’d reply, “No, I mean a work of art.”

Lightly, she ran her fingers through his hair, from the top of his forehead to the crown of his head, then let them drift over his sideburns and along his jaw. It was unforgivable to let this beautiful man waste his years
playing caretaker to a woman whose looks and body and sex appeal were draining away in a fast-moving torrent while his were only rising.

She traced the laugh lines at the edges of his eyes. He was such a kind, generous man. Of course he would take care of her until the end. He was right about what he’d said in the living room earlier: he was trained for this. He was a professional nurturer. He would care for her better than any patient had ever been cared for, if she let him.

She would have many more years at home, because of him, than HD would normally allow. She could imagine him saying, “Not quite yet, love,” each time she suggested maybe now was the time for them to look into nursing homes. She could picture him pushing her wheelchair, carrying her from the couch to their bed, blending her food. Brushing her hair. Lifting her into the tub and bathing her tenderly, being overly cautious about the water temperature, the pressure of the washcloth on her skin, the nearness of the shampoo to her eyes.

He was her ticket to more time with Laks, with her parents, with Those Ladies.

But he was right, too, about something else he had said in the living room earlier: there were two people in this marriage, not just one.

Two people who loved the other to the edges of the universe and back.

Leaning closer, she inhaled deeply, taking in the manly, stirring, intoxicating scent of him. She pressed her lips gently against the lovely warmth of his cheek, the sexy coarseness of his nighttime beard. She let her tongue peek out softly and tasted the saltiness of his skin.

Two people motivated so strongly by love for the other that either of them would do anything for the other’s sake.

She pressed her face hard into his neck and let her tears glue her skin to his as she considered all she would be giving up by refusing to let him look after her for as long as he could.

And all he would be giving up if she didn’t
refuse.

Friday, April 8

TWO DAYS
LEFT

Scott

Scott was aware that his adjective/adverb refresher lecture wasn’t exactly riveting, but when the entire class of seventh graders turned their heads to the doorway, he knew it must be more than uninspired teaching on his part. He followed their collective gaze and was surprised to see his wife in the doorway. Her eyes were puffy and red, as though she had been crying recently, and her lips were quivering now as though she was about to restart.

Oh my God, he thought: the baby. Turning to the class, his face suddenly clammy, he said, “Give me a minute, will you? I’ll send Mr. Conner over.” Pete’s classroom was next door.

He stepped into the hall, shutting the classroom door behind him, and put trembling hands on Laurie’s shoulders. “Is it the baby?”

She seemed surprised at the question, and shook her head, a protective hand moving to her round belly. “It’s LaDania,” she said. “She’s dead.”

“What?” He stepped backward, almost bumping up against the classroom door. “
Dead?
How?”

“She overdosed. Last night, they think. Janice called me at work. The police found her around four this morning. I tried calling you earlier, but the office didn’t pick up. And I figured we should go get Bray anyway, so
I might as well drive straight here and tell you in person. And then when I got here and signed in at the office, Mrs. Bevel took one look at me and told me I could come right up. I don’t think she wanted to be alone with me while she waited for you to come down to the office. Anyway, I’m rambling. Can you leave?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, I can leave. Wait here one sec.”

He walked a few feet down the hall and stuck his head into Pete’s classroom. The student chairs were empty and Pete was at his desk looking at a stack of papers, a red pen in his hand. Scott cleared his throat and Pete looked up. Seeing his friend’s expression, he dropped his pen. Before Scott could speak, Pete was out of his chair and walking to the door, his face pale.

“What happened?” Pete asked, before he noticed Laurie. “Oh! Laurie, I didn’t see you there. Hey, are you crying? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

“LaDania,” Scott told him. “She’s dead. She overdosed—” He looked at Laurie. “Last night, did you say?”

She nodded. “Yes. Well, technically, early this morning, I guess. Or late last night, however you want to look at it.” She shrugged and fluttered a hand near her face. “I’m rambling again.”

“Holy man!” said Pete. “Shit!” He put an arm around Laurie’s shoulders. “I mean shit. I mean sorry. I mean— I’m rambling, too, I guess. I don’t know what to say. I’m shocked. She was doing okay, wasn’t she? Moved back in, the little man with her? Didn’t you tell me she was interviewing for jobs this week? Talking to Janice like she had her shit together?”

“She was,” said Scott.

They stood for a minute, none of them knowing what to say next.

Finally, Scott turned to Laurie. “We should go. Track Bray down before Janice calls him. And, oh no—” He clapped a hand to his forehead. “What about Curtis?”

“Still at school,” Laurie said. “We’ll get him on the way back from Ann Arbor. He doesn’t know yet. Only Bray does. Janice called him
before she called me. I told her we’d break it to him and she said since he’s the next of kin, she had to tell him first. But I called him on my way here to say we’ll pick him up, take him to get Curtis from school so he can be there to tell him. He seemed happy about that. So we can do that for him, at least.”

Scott looked at Pete. “I can fill you in later, once we know more.” He pointed to his classroom. “Can you?”

“I’ve got it,” Pete said. “No worries at all.”

•   •   •

Bray’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and he slumped in the backseat as Scott drove, Laurie beside him. Janice had called earlier and offered to pick him up and take him to his brother. “But I told her I was pretty sure I’d be hearing from one of you, and you’d come get me.”

Scott and Laurie exchanged a glance and he mouthed the words “thank you” to her. It was clear who operated best in a crisis.

As if proving his point, Laurie turned to Bray and said, “I hope it’s okay, but I called Pastor John on my way to Franklin.” Pastor John served a church that LaDania had attended on a fairly irregular basis. He had stayed in touch with her while she was in prison and had called the Coffmans several times to check on Curtis.

“No, that’s good,” Bray said. “Thanks for doing that. I guess I need to talk to him. Arrange a service.” His voice broke and he put a hand across his face, slumping lower.

“I did,” Laurie said, reaching her hand back and resting it on his knee. “He can do it tomorrow at ten, he said. It’s really soon, but he thought that might be better, for you and Curtis. But if you want to wait—”

“No,” Bray said quickly. “Rather do it fast as possible.” He made a grunting noise and looked away, and Scott had the feeling the boy was chastising himself for wanting to get his mother’s funeral over as fast as possible.

“I completely understand,” Laurie said softly, apparently picking up
on Bray’s guilt, too. “Pastor John said he’d contact some of her friends from church. And the Johnsons. He’ll ask the Johnsons to spread the word at the apartments. Other than that, I think it’s just us, right? No other relatives you know of? He didn’t know of any.”

“No. Other than my grandma, there wasn’t anyone else. That I knew of, anyway.”

“Okay,” she said. “We’re all set, then. We can call him later about the details, if you want. Music, readings, that kind of thing. Or I can do it, if you want.”

“Thank you,” Bray said quietly.

“Yeah, Laur, thanks,” Scott said. He put a hand on her knee and tried to think of something he could do to help, and she covered it with hers. She was covering all the bases while he followed behind, lost. “You can stay with us for the weekend, of course,” he said to Bray. “And I can get you back to Ann Arbor on Sunday.”

Bray cleared his throat. “Uh, I was hoping I could stay over on Sunday night, if that’s all right. I’ve got to be in Detroit Monday anyway, for the hearing.”

“What?” Scott asked. “Why? What’s the point of ending our guardianship now, if there’s no one else to take over?”

At the same moment he realized he shouldn’t have said that out loud before discussing it with his wife, her hand drew away from his. He tried to make eye contact, but she shifted her body away from him and stared intently out her window, her shoulders rigid.

“I talked to Janice about that,” Bray said. “And I could put it off, considering everything. But it seems to me it’s better for Curtis if he knows as soon as possible what’s gonna happen to him. So I told her I want to go ahead with it. Tell the judge my decision, get it all formalized and let Curtis get on with his life.”

“What decision?” Scott asked.

“She said my choices are to either be guardian myself, or turn him over to the foster care system.”

“What?”
Scott said. “She told
a college kid
he should consider becoming guardian to an
eight-year-old
?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “
That’s
one of the choices she suggested? Where does she think he’s going to sleep, on the floor of your room? Is he going to do homework in the locker room while you practice? Sleep on the bus on the way to your away games?” He banged the steering wheel as he spoke and he could feel the heat rise from his chest to his neck and into his face. He knew without looking in the mirror that the veins in his neck were bulging.

Laurie spoke without taking her eyes off her window. “Calm down. Bray’s not the one making the suggestion. He’s telling you what Janice said.”

“Sorry,” Scott said, looking at her apologetically. But her gaze was still trained out her window and she didn’t see the gesture. He cast a sheepish glance at Bray in the rearview mirror.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Bray said, dismissing Scott’s apology with the wave of a giant hand. “I was pretty blown away at first myself. But I’ve been thinking about it all morning. And I talked to a couple of the guys about it. And it makes sense, if you think about it. I’m his only family. I’m the one who should be guardian. And why wait? You two have your own family to get ready for. I can’t leave him with you any longer—”

“So you’re going to drop out, just like that?” Scott snapped his fingers. “Give up your degree? Your entire future?”

He stared at his wife as he spoke, willing her to tell Bray to hold off, let them keep Curtis for a while so Bray could take more time to make such a huge decision. This time she met his gaze, but her eyes were dark and narrow. “Scott,” she hissed. “Let. Him. Finish.”

Scott took a deep breath. “Sorry, Bray. I’m . . . I’m . . . Go ahead.”

Laurie shot him another dark look before turning once more to her window.

Bray waved a hand again. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not exactly fine. It’s crazy, the whole thing. But I don’t want to put it off, make him wait, wondering what his life is gonna be while I take my sweet time deciding
what to do. He needs an answer. Deserves one.” Bray took a long breath in. Letting it out slowly, he found Scott in the rearview mirror. “And my answer is, I’m going to be his guardian. I’m gonna quit school, move home. My mom had a little money—some life insurance policy from a job she had one time. Janice told me. It’s not much, but it’ll get us by till I find a job.”

He held a hand up to Scott, who had resumed panting and sputtering, waiting to jump in and protest. “I know everything you’re thinking,” Bray said. “Everything you’re going to say. But yeah, I’ve thought about it. And yeah, it’s going to suck to quit. College, basketball, all of it.” He gazed out the window and shook his head slowly as though imagining the demise of his future career, the death of his dreams. Turning back to Scott, he said, “But I wanted the big NBA career, the business degree, mostly to make a better life for my family. You know that. And Curtis is my family. What kind of guy am I if I turn him over to foster care and go on and make a better life just for me?” Scott opened his mouth to answer but Bray shook his head and Scott let him go on. “I can understand if you’re mad,” Bray said, “if you think you wasted all that time, all those years, helping me reach a level where I could get into college and might even have a shot at the pros. And you should be mad at me for throwing all that away. I’m mad I have to do it.”

He turned to the window again, scowling, and Scott could hear the bitterness in his voice. “I’m furious with my mom for putting me in this position. For leaving Curtis without a parent.” Bray glared out the window for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning back to Scott. “But it is what it is,” he said. He shrugged, his expression passive now, calm. “And I don’t see any other way. So that’s what I’m doing.

“I can go to night school later, once I have some money saved. Get a degree, a better job. Won’t be Michigan, and it won’t be the NBA. But those are done for me now, and I’m okay with it.” Scott started to interrupt again, and Bray put his hand on Scott’s shoulder, silently asking him to hold his protests a moment longer. “And what I need now is for you to
be okay with it, too, Coach. And get behind me on this. Not tell me what I already know, about how this is a crying shame and it’s not fair and all that. I know it. But I can’t think about that now, and I don’t want to hear about it. Please.”

Scott forced himself to stop sputtering. He followed Bray’s example and took a deep breath. Then another. And another. He commanded the color to leave his cheeks and the veins in his neck to retreat. He drove several miles taking long breaths in, letting them out slowly, until he was sure he could speak calmly.

Finding Bray in the mirror again, he said, “I’ll support you. If you’re sure about it. Absolutely, one hundred percent sure that this is what you want to do. But . . . and I’m not arguing here, only trying to talk you through it. And I want to say that nobody would blame you for not being sure about wanting to sign up for this. Anybody would understand if you said you wanted to wait a little while, put the hearing off for a bit, so you can think about it a little longer. Decide if this is really the right answer. See if there’s another alternative. And anyone would understand if, ultimately, you decide it’s too much for you, and not something you’re ready for, after all.”

Scott looked sideways at his wife again. Her shoulders stiffened and he knew she could feel his gaze on her. But she kept her body turned away from him, pretended to be focused on the scenery out her window, and said nothing. Scott sighed and turned his attention to the road.

“Appreciate that, Coach,” Bray said. “But I’m a hundred percent sure about it, right now. Bottom line is, I’d blame myself every day if I put my own brother in foster care, sent him to live with strangers, because it’s ‘too much.’ That’s not me. I don’t shy away from things because they’re too much.”

“No,” Scott said, “you don’t. You never have.”