Love Me: Oakville Series:Book 5 (12 page)

We get into the kitchen and I lay my purse on the counter. A squealing Chase comes racing by me followed closely by Angel. He’s groaning with his hands stretched straight out in front of him, pretending to be a zombie. “You can’t have my brains, you creepy zombie,” Chase yells out. Angel moves a little quicker, picks Chase up off the floor, then pretends to munch on his head. Chase’s laughter booms throughout the kitchen, quickly followed by Angel’s. After today, I wonder if he’ll still be this carefree and happy? If he’s not, I’m the one who caused him to lose that part of himself. The thought that he won’t rips my heart to shreds.

When Chase is begging for mercy, saying his stomach hurts from laughing, Angel stops and puts him down. “I need to get home, buddy. Aunt Chelsie has a list of chores for me to do today and if I don’t get them done, she’ll take my Xbox away from me,” Angel tells him. Chase looks up at him with wide eyes, his mouth gaping.

“You get your Xbox taken away too when you’re bad?” Chase asks in shock. He can’t believe an adult like Angel gets his toys taken away. I can’t help but laugh a little at his expression.

“Yes I do, little man,” Angel says, ruffling Chase’s hair. Holding up his fist, Chase meets it with his, bumping them together and then slowly making a blowing up motion. Angel turns to me and wraps me in a hug. He brings his mouth close to my ear, and whispers, “I’m here if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“Thank you. For everything,” I whisper back. Pulling away from me, he nods and then exchanges a quick bro-hug with Marcus before heading out the front door. My stomach plummets when I realize the three of us are alone now. The time has come for the talk. In an attempt to ease the blow a little, I move to the pantry, pull out a pack of Double Stuffed Oreos, and lay them on the table. After pulling the gallon of milk from the fridge and placing it next to the cookies, I pull three glasses from the cupboard and fill them.

Chase and Marcus are in the family room discussing the newest
Madden
game on Xbox. I take a deep breath, hoping to calm my nerves, but it doesn’t work. My palms are sweating and bile rises in my throat. “Hey, buddy. Why don’t you and daddy come in the kitchen and have a snack?” He turns to me with an agitated look on his face.

“But, Momma...I want to play football with Daddy,” he whines before turning on the television and Xbox. “Bring our snack in here,” he demands. Normally him ordering me to bring his snack to him would get him sent to his room, but knowing what is coming, I don’t have the heart to scold him. From the stunned look on Marcus’ face, he’s feeling the same way. Unlike me, though, he doesn’t hold his tongue.

“Chase, is that the way you’re supposed to speak to Momma?” Chase hangs his head.

“No, it’s not, Daddy,” he says quietly, then lifts his head and looks to me. “I’m sorry, Momma. I just really wanted to play Xbox.” My heart melts at his words. We have raised such an amazing little boy. I pray losing me doesn’t change that. Marcus will need to be so strong for himself and Chase. I don’t know if he’ll be able to handle both. But that is a problem for another day. One thing at a time, and right now, I need to tell my boy the worst news he’ll ever hear.

“I know you are, buddy. You can play Xbox after Daddy and I have a little talk with you, okay?” He nods and places the controller on the coffee table. Marcus and Chase follow me into the kitchen and we all take a seat. I place a couple cookies in front of each of us. Like always, the three of us dunk our Oreos into the glass of milk then take a bite. I let Chase finish two cookies before Marcus and I glance at each other, knowing it’s time.

“Buddy, we need to tell you something,” I say. Chase looks up from his milk and cookies. “Mommy is sick. I have something called cancer.” Tears sting my eyes and my throat burns from holding back the sobs that threaten me. Marcus keeps his eyes on Chase, watching to make sure he’s okay and with us so far.

“What’s cancer, Mommy?” Chase asks nonchalantly. I bite my bottom lip, trying to keep the sobs at bay. I can’t cry right now. I need to be strong. I have to do this for my boy. I take a deep breath and continue.

“Well, it’s kind of like one of your video games where the bad guys are always trying to attack you. Cancer attacks parts of your body and causes them to stop working,” I tell him, trying to put it in terms he’ll understand. He gives me a confused look, then smiles.

“If it’s like my game, then you can fight the cancer with ammo,” he says excitedly. My sweet boy. My heart begins to ache in my chest. The tears build up in my eyes again and it’s getting hard to swallow past the lump in my throat.

“Sometimes you can fight it with medicine, which is like ammo, but the type I have is stronger than any medicine the doctors have.” I look over to Marcus. He nods his head and gives me a small smile, telling me I’m doing okay. When I look back to Chase, he has tears in his eyes and his lip is trembling. He is a lot smarter than I give him credit for. I thought it would be more difficult for him to grasp.

“If you can’t fight it with medicine, what will happen to you?” he questions, his voice unsteady and eyes downcast. The dam breaks and my tears begin to spill out and run down my cheeks. I know I need to answer him, but I don’t trust myself to speak. Breathing is difficult at this point. Marcus notices my distress and takes Chase’s tiny hands into his large ones. It reminds me of the day Chase was born. Marcus wouldn’t let go of his hand; he was so amazed at how tiny Chase’s little fingers were.

“Buddy, remember when Goldie died and Mommy told you about Heaven?” Marcus asks, his voice raw with the emotions he’s trying so hard to contain. Chase’s eyes widen. A few tears leak out and he quickly wipes them away then nods his head slowly. “Well, Mommy will be going to Heaven.” We both watch Chase closely, waiting for reality to sink in. When his face twists in pain and his tears are streaming down his cheeks, I leave my seat and wrap him in my arms. My heart wrenches. This is too much to bear. I don’t think I can handle this. I just broke my baby’s heart. I want to scream and ask God,
Why the fuck me?
Chase begins to wiggle from my arms and I loosen my grip. He stands up and glares at me, his hands fisting at his sides, his face soaked with tears, his eyes a storm of pain and confusion.

“Why?” he squeaks out. Marcus looks up to the ceiling and grips the back of his neck. I’m still trying to find my voice. How do I give him an answer when I don’t know myself? I open my mouth to speak and quickly shut it. “Why are you leaving me? Don’t you love me anymore?” he asks just above a whisper, his voice stuttering over the sobs taking control. I suck in a sharp breath and rush toward him. Kneeling in front of him, I take his face in my hands.

“I love you more than anything in the world, buddy. I would never leave you on purpose. Mommy wants to stay here forever with you and Daddy. I don’t have a choice. If I could stay with you, I would,” I try to explain, having no idea if this makes any sense at all to him. I don’t know what to do. Sitting on the floor, I pull him onto my lap and hold him tight, rocking him like I did when he was a baby. His sobs grow stronger, and mine do, too. “I’m so sorry, buddy. I’m so sorry,” I repeat, over and over. His arms come around my neck and he holds me so tight, it hurts. I don’t care, though. If this is what’s comforting to him, so be it. Out the corner of my eye, I see Marcus stand. He sits on the floor in front of us, then pulls us both into his lap. Chase sandwiched between us, his strong arms around my back, we sit there for over an hour, holding each other, sobbing.

T
he last three months have been pure and utter hell. My family is slowly falling apart at the seams and I can’t seem to do a damn thing about it. Every night since we told Chase about Taryn, he’s been sleeping in our room, haunted by nightmares of losing his mom. Even sleeping with us doesn’t keep them at bay. It just makes it easier and quicker to calm him when he does have them. Sometimes it takes us over an hour to get him settled enough to get back to sleep.

I understand what he’s going through. He’s afraid if he’s away from her for too long she’s going to die, and I often find myself feeling the same way. I wake up multiple times a night to make sure she’s still breathing. I’m terrified to lose her. Seeing how broken Chase is and watching Taryn fade more and more every day, my heart is already shattered. The pain that will come when she’s gone will no doubt disintegrate what’s left.

Taryn’s health started to worsen slowly at first. She began having some pain here and there. The slightest of activities began to tire her out quickly. Walking to the end of the driveway to check the mail had her panting and wheezing like she had just run a 5K at full speed. She began to sleep more and more, and with Chase wanting to be glued to her hip, it was difficult for her to really rest. Neither of us have the heart to make him stop.

This last month or so, it’s gotten so much worse. She can barely get out of bed. I put our regular bed in the garage and replaced it with two hospital beds side by side. Neither Chase nor I want to be away from her, so she has her own bed and Chase and I share the other. It’s not the most comfortable way to sleep, but it will do. Lately, she doesn’t have an appetite. We’ve been able to get her to sip broth or have some mashed potatoes, but that’s about it. Chewing seems to even be too much for her.

A home nurse comes for five or six hours a day, which started about a month ago. She’s here to help bathe Taryn, help her to the bathroom, and administer her meds. Our friends take turns coming over. They make sure Chase and I eat, sleep, shower, and help keep Taryn company. Chelsie has even taken my checkbook from me and started paying all of the bills. Holly and Amber have been taking turns doing the grocery shopping, making sure we are always well stocked. Angel is here every single day without fail. Most of his time is spent playing with Chase. He does his best to get that little boy to smile. For the most part, it works. He’s been able to get Chase out of Taryn’s room for an hour a day to play Xbox. Without all the help from our friends, I would have gone insane by now.

I’m lying in bed now at the butt crack of dawn, watching Chase and Taryn sleep. Chase is as far against the bed railing separating him and Taryn as he can get. His little hand is stretched over to her side, resting in hers. He’s lying on his belly with his head turned to face her, always needing to see and touch her. He’s like me in that aspect. The slow rise and fall of his body as he breathes is calming. His waking hours are spent with him full of worry, sadness, and anger. Sleep and his playtime with Angel are the only solace the poor kid gets. He’s too young to have to be dealing with these emotions. He should be happy and carefree. He should be acting like any other six-year-old. Unfortunately, he stopped being a normal six-year-old the day we told him he’d be losing his mom.