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“Look what you’ve done,” she groused wiping the droplets from her face.
“I see,” I replied unable to argue with her. “Do you want me to stay with you?” Praying that she would say no I waited for her response.
Finally she placed the cup on her bedside table with a shaky hand and then and only then would she respond. “Yes.”
Gritting my teeth I walked around the bed and sat back down on the blue flowered quilt. “Did I miss anything?”
“No.”
We were silent. She continued to shift in the bed, which alerted me that the medicine had not started to work.
“You haven’t told your sisters?” She asked out of the blue.
I should have. “No,” I replied tersely.
“Good.”
“You need to tell them.”
“Hell no,” she declared vehemently.
She began picking at something on the comforter. There was nothing there but her fingers worked furiously at the invisible thing that was driving her crazy. To my eyes it appeared that she picked at the tiny blue violets that covered the quilt.
Unable to stop watching her fingers heatedly moving about I said, “So you’ll die on me one of these days and I’ll have to tell them myself.”
“Yes,” she replied her fingers finally stilled. “Or Jack can tell them. Make him be the man for a change. Let him tell them”
“Now that is just plain mean Yancy.”
Yancy seemed to be relaxing. The medicine must be taking affect. Her eyes fluttered until they closed. She was snoring softly when I left the room. Thank you Lord Jesus Christ. The devil was asleep. I know that was mean. My patience were wearing thin. I closed the bedroom door behind me and leaned heavily against it for a few minutes. Kerry’s mother had seemed more lucid to me when I had seen her in the final stages of her cancer before she had died. She hadn’t spouted curse words at anyone. She had died a calm, almost serene way.
Forcing my feet to move I walked down the hall to the stairwell. The curved stairs ended in the foyer and when I looked up I could see part of the second and third floors through the balcony before the wall cut off my line of vision. Standing at the bottom I looked up. I had done this as a child and had been fascinated by the angles and height of the house. As a small child it had been overwhelming. Many times I had walked along the inner wall afraid that if I got too close to the balcony I would fall to the foyer below to my death.
At last, I walked out of the house grabbing the baby monitor from the antique, cherry table by the front door to take with me so that I could hear Yancy should she need me. On the front porch I went directly to the swing and sat down. Gently I rocked back and forth relaxing for the first time all day. Yancy kept me busy. Nights were the worst for her. It was all Pop and I could do to keep up with her needs. Doctor Winkle had suggested that she go to a hospice but Yancy wouldn’t hear of it. When she died she would die at her home in Hell, Michigan. The only home she had ever known.
Several neighbors walked to or from their homes and called out to me as I sat swinging back and forth. We were the last house on the outskirts of town. There wasn’t another house for miles.
A few stopped to ask how Yancy was doing. My answer had become automatic. The same. Too bad, they would reply before heading further down the street in a hurry as if they might catch her disease. Why, I wondered was everyone afraid of cancer?
Harriet was the only friend who had visited with Yancy and she had many friends. Most of them, at least called to inquire about her. When I invited them to visit with her they politely declined for many reasons that I was sure were devised to avoid seeing Yancy, being too close to their own mortality. Maybe it was their age, I thought to myself. They were probably reminded of how fragile their own lives were.
Down the street I saw Wynne and Keegan walking towards the house. They had gone to the public pool to swim for the afternoon. They were laughing and carefree. Their banter reminded me of how I used to behave with my own sisters, which brought a smile to my face. When they stepped onto the porch I was still smiling.
“Hi Mom,” Keegan said leading her cousin to the swing where they sat on either side of me.
Her long legs were tanned from spending time at the pool with Wynne. Her smile came easily now that the tension James created no longer invaded our lives. Her hair was dark brown again with soft Carmel highlights that framed her face. Her eyes were even more beautiful against her golden brown skin.
Wynne however was pink. She didn’t tan the way that Keegan did. She had Yancy’s skin which required heavy sunscreen.
“Did you use your lotion?” I asked my niece.
She nodded.
I wrapped my arms around them when they were situated with me between them and hugged them gently. Wynne had spent many nights at our house since our return to Hell, which had allowed me to get to know my niece again. I had discovered she loved the alternative rock band, Nirvana, which had been introduced to her by her brother Jack. She had inherited my sister Adin’s artistic abilities. Several of her drawings were quite good. She enjoyed drawing people as well as cartoons.
In her portfolio were several portraits of Yancy, which had brought tears to my eyes. She had captured Yancy’s beauty but also her pain. They were done after the treatment had begun on one of the many afternoons she had spent alone with her grandmother. Each one reflected the change in Yancy as time had passed.
Wynne had been taking ballet since she was small. Keegan and I had attended several of her recitals years ago but now she was taking not only ballet but also contemporary dance. She had invited us to her recital in August, which I accepted and planned on attending if the baby wasn’t here yet. I was holding out hope the baby might come early. Keegan had.
