HARLOW
I take up residence in the uncomfortable chair by my aunt’s beside for four days. Four long days full of endless nurses and doctor’s visits. Of sympathetic looks from Brooke and Reese when they turn up with decent coffee and try to convince me to leave.
The doctor said I could stay as long as I liked, and I’m taking him up on the offer. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me most; there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her now. I’d never forgive myself.
“Any change?” Brooke asks when she stops off on her way to work.
“They think we’re at the end. Vitals are dropping.”
“Shit.”
“It’s okay. It’s what she would want,” I say, trying to hold my voice steady. Nothing about this is okay, but at least she’s not suffering. It could have been much worse.
“I just stopped in to bring you this.” She hands over a bag and a coffee. “I know you won’t eat otherwise. I need to do a few things after work, but I’ll be back later, okay?”
“Sure, thank you. How many shots of coffee are in this?” I ask when the strong scent hits my nose. My stomach turns overat the smell, reminding me that I can’t remember the last time I ate.
“It’s just a standard cappuccino.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you feeling okay?”
I can’t help but think it’s a stupid question. I haven’t left this room in four days. I’ve been sleeping in a chair and only nibbled on some of the food she’s turned up with. I’m only wearing different clothes from when I arrived because she brought them for me.
“No, I’m really fucking not.” My voice cracks with emotion and exhaustion.
Unfazed by my outburst, Brooke reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing in support.
“You really need to come home to sleep.”
I glance over my shoulder at my aunt. “I will … soon.”
Brooke nods and continues to hold my hand. “I’ll be back later, okay?” She squeezes again before dropping a kiss to my cheek. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” I whisper as she walks away.
Sitting back in the chair that has become my home, I take a sip of coffee. The warmth is soothing, but much like the smell, I don’t get the joy I usually do when the taste hits me.
Fucking hell, I need some sleep.
Nibbling at the pastry, I watch my aunt, wondering if today is going to be the day I’m forced to walk out of here and leave her behind.
For her sake, I hope it is. Guilt swamps me at having such thoughts, but I know it’s what she wants, and I need to think about her right now, not me. She always told me that when the time came, she didn’t want it to drag on. I remember her telling me horror stories from the TV or newspapers where people ended up in hospitals and care homes for months as the disease slowly ate away at their bodies. I shudder at the thought.
As hard as it is to accept her wishes, to allow her the peace she craves. I know she’s right. I’d want the exact same thing.
I curl back up in the only position I’ve found that’s vaguely comfortable, and, with the beeping of the machine in my ears, I drift off to sleep.
It’s fitful and full of nightmares involving losing my aunt and Corey simultaneously.
I can see myself curled up in this chair as a team of nurses and doctors come racing in for my aunt, who’s still lying lifeless on the bed.
They do all the checks I’m now used to them doing, but the atmosphere surrounding them is different. The looks on their faces are different.
My heart starts to race, knowing what they’re telling me without needing words. This is it. This is the end.
I wake with a start, my heart still trying to pound out of my chest.
It was just a dream.
Just a dream.
