The light that shone in her eyes was euphoria. She genuinely cared for this line of work, that much was evident. From what I overheard others whispering about, this was a passion project that took several years to get up off the ground running.
“Why thank you, Lennon. My son is in this group as well, and he seems to really enjoy it. He’s attended many others over the years. I was hoping to catch him regarding a pilot project. You haven’t happened to see him, have you?”
I started to shake my head, then it hit me. Lennon and Asher Graves. Asher Graves. Blythe Graves.
No. No.No.
My pulse spiked. Erratic.
His motherranthis program? I wondered if he targeted me. Targeted me while knowing my history. Knowing that I would be vulnerable. Rage lit up like I ignited its pilot light once again.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, “he’s in there on the phone with his sister.”
She smiled. “I hope he continues opening up about his illness. He told me he’s making great strides in the way he discusses the terminal aspect.”
It took everything in me not to address the fact that she said this wasterminal.
Terminal. The word hit me like a sack of bricks.
I was aware that Asher was sick, but he never really spoke about it in group. In fact, he never talked about his condition at all.
“Yeah, he seemed to be making good progress, from what I can tell, anyway. He is always a happy guy. Is that what the pilot project is for? His illness?” I asked, attempting to pry.
“Oh yes,” she said enthusiastically. “If all goes according to plan, it could extend his life four more years. Maybe more. It would be so wonderful. He’s just been battling this for so long, and this was supposed to be his last year…”
Her voice stilled.
“And I’ve done everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen. It can’t happen…”
It took a moment, but Blythe realized she had overspoken and overstepped. The look of horror and regret was written all across her face.
“I apologize, I’m just a rambling mother, sometimes.” A short and forced chuckle escaped her mouth.
She attempted to wipe a tear away from her face that hadn’t left her duct yet. She reached out and placed a hand gently on my shoulder. “Excuse me, Lennon, I’d better catch up with him before he takes off. I haven’t the slightest clue where he’s been running off to lately. Must’ve met someone.”
She offered with a hopeful chuckle, but it was hollow. As if she couldn’t even believe the words.
I nodded, allowing her the out she needed.
There was a chair directly across from the room that called to me. I decided to take up space and sank into it. A million thoughts ran rampant.
Terminal illness.
Did he know about me beforehand?
Pilot project.
Could die?
This year?
He was supposed to die this year?
Asher couldn’t die.
And then—
Must’ve met someone…
