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“No, you’re not,” Adam says softly. “It’s about your mom.” He exhales. “We found out tonight that your mom…”
I let loose a little squeak of pain when Adam tightens his grip. He jumps in surprise, sees that he’s hurting me and releases his hand instantly.
“Nova, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m—” the word ‘fine’ is on the tip of my tongue, but I know Adam doesn’t respect that term coming from me. “Just be a little more gentle,” I say, offering my hand again.
He nods seriously and takes the hand. Turning to his son again, he swallows hard. “Rowan, your mom is in the hospital. She’s not doing too well. We heard… we heard that she might not make it.”
Rowan’s youthful face freezes in shock. I watch his little chest rise and fall on a giant breath. He says nothing. The only indication that he even heard Adam is his skin becoming paler.
Adam scoots to the edge of his chair and leans forward. “Rowan, did you know your mom was sick when she sent you here?”
Tears pool in the little boy’s eyes and it makes me want to fling myself at him and beg Adam to take back the words. I didn’t know how much seeing Rowan’s emotional distress would burn me.
“I knew she was hiding something from me,” he says, lifting an arm over his face. I’m not sure if that arm is to hide his crying from us or to wipe his tears. “And I knew she wasn’t feeling that good but… are you sure she’s dying?”
Adam looks down.
Rowan sniffs. “She can’t die.” He shakes his head, his brown hair flopping. “She can’t leave me.”
Unable to hold it in any longer, I launch across the sofa and clutch Rowan. It’s an uncharacteristic burst of maternal intuition, but I know it’s the right move when Rowan dips his head in my neck.
Hot, salty tears fall against my collar bone.
My heart breaks with every wet plop on my skin.
Adam joins us in the couch and wraps his arms around us both. Keeping us steady, he becomes both the physical and figurative anchor for us.
“You’re going to be okay, Rowan. I swear,” Adam says.
“I want to see her,” Rowan lifts his head and demands, “I want to see mom.”
Adam glances at me.
I nod.
He sighs and promises, “I’ll take you to her tomorrow.”
* * *
Hospitals have always frightened me.So many deaths within these walls. So many families broken up. So many children scarred for life. So many partners losing their only reasons to smile.
I glance at Adam, who’s walking determinedly beside me.
One of the reasons I kept my heart from him is because I knew I’d be one of those people who wouldn’t move on after loving him. I’d be stuck in him forever, consumed by him, breathing for him even if he was no longer breathing with me.
It’s not our blissful day of extravagant dates that convinced me of that.
It’s the way we cling to each other in crisis.
Even in this tense moment, when he could so easily pull away and retreat into himself, Adam is holding me. He’s looking out for me.
Yesterday, after Rowan went to bed in tears, I insisted on calling Steve and going home so Adam could focus on caring for his son.
The moment I got home, I got a text from Adam asking if I’d gotten in safely.
This morning, I got a call from Adam asking if I’d slept well.
