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“Kent,” she called from the bathroom. He went to her and knocked on the door. “You can come in.”
He found her leaning against the counter, staring into the mirror. “Are you ready to go back to bed?”
“How did I get this bump on my head?”
Kent looked at her oddly. “We conked heads when your seizure started.”
She looked surprised. “Oh.”
Had she forgotten, or was this a new sign that the tumor was invading more of her life? “Come on,” he said as he reached for her. “The bed is made and it’s late. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
“Okay.” Palmer went with Kent but kept her eyes on the mirror until they left the bathroom. She got into bed first and then Kent followed. He took the side nearest the bedside table, to prevent her from hitting it while she slept. She rolled onto her side to face the wall, and Kent snuggled in behind her. He wanted to hold her.
“Is this okay?” he asked her. Palmer nodded and pulled his hand under her head.
They stayed like that until the sun came up. Kent never fell asleep and wasn’t sure if Palmer had either. His mind raced with what she’d said in the bathroom, questioning how she’d gotten the bump on her head and not recalling her seizure. He could easily say she was confused because of the episode, but his gut told him otherwise. Between her vision issues, the numbness in her fingers and hands, the seizures, the appetite loss, and now her forgetfulness, she was much closer to the end than he wanted her to be. Kent needed to step their trip into high gear.
After breakfast at the hotel, they were back on the road. Palmer opened the top and reclined her seat. She told Kent she was going to sunbathe. He didn’t mind as long as she didn’t care if he listened to sports talk radio. He turned it on and got lost in the chatter about the upcoming NFL season. Kent enjoyed all sports and never really favored one team over the other.
Halfway through the segment, Palmer sat up and rummaged through her bag for the journal she’d bought a while back. Kent wondered what she wrote about, but he hadn’t wanted to invade her privacy. She slipped her glasses on and began writing.
Of all the facilities to start to lose first, he hated that it was her vision. This trip had been so important to her. She wanted to see the sights and experience the beautiful landscapes that made up the United States, and he was heartbroken that she wasn’t able to see it all clearly. Yet, Palmer didn’t complain. She kept on with Kent as her guide.
As they got closer to Albuquerque, Kent closed the top, much to Palmer’s dismay. “With all this traffic, we don’t want to inhale exhaust fumes.”
“Maybe I wanted to.”
Kent frowned. He hated when she talked about taking her own life, even though he understood why she did it. “Well, I don’t,” he fired back to match her attitude.
“You know I can get high if I want to.”
Her statement caught him off guard. As far as he knew, she didn’t have any substances on her or packed in her luggage that would aid her in getting high.
“Is that so?” he prodded.
“Yep. I just have to show my stupid medical card at some store, and I can do it.”
Kent wanted to laugh but held back. Palmer had no idea what kind of store she even needed, but this was her way of showing him who was boss. She was right, though. Dr. Hughes had issued her a prescription for medicinal marijuana, but Palmer didn’t have it. He did. She’d given it to him before they left.
“Do you want to?”
“Do I want to what?” she asked with so much sass Kent thought he was talking to a teenager.
He bit his tongue to keep from sassing her back. “Get high?”
“I don’t know. You might want to make out with me.”
I already do. “I might,” he said, playing along.
Kent headed north out of the city, toward Raúl’s. He and his family lived on the outskirts, in what Raúl’s great-grandfather described as being far enough away from the big-city lights that the lightning bugs still blazed a path for followers, but close enough for everyone to visit. Kent glanced at Palmer while he waited for her response. She said nothing, making him wonder if a shift had happened. Had her mood changed again, or did she need time to think?
“Do you want to?” he asked her again. If she wanted to get high and numb the pain she was in, he was going to set things up for her, and if she didn’t want to—well, that would be fine as well. She would at least know the option was there.
