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He drew in a deep breath and studied the mosquito on his mug. Its bug eyes stared at him from the print accusingly. He wasn’t ready to talk... But maybe he needed to.
Letting the breath go, he looked at Bex. She nodded, encouraging him.
He said, “My mom has been sick for a while now.”
Bex drew a sharp breath. “Julie’s sick?”
His eyes met hers. She looked scared, concerned... He could see the wheels turning wondering how she could help.
She couldn’t. And he knew that would wreck her. He’d always known that. It was why he’d kept it from her for so long.
He nodded. “She’s sick. She’s been sick for a long time.”
“No one told me.”
I know, he thought. I asked them not to.
“She has Huntington’s Disease,” he said instead.
Bex shook her head. “What is that?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s a neurological disorder that attacks the brain. Remember when she used to forget stuff or when she would stumble and laugh it off as clumsiness?”
Bex nodded.
“It was the beginning stages of Huntington’s. There is a gradual onset. Most people get it when they hit middle age. But once it sets in... It’s devastating. Muscle movement becomes involuntary. There’s memory loss and confusion. Loss of impulse control, which means aggression problems. People who have it... They... Well, they lose control and aren’t the same person anymore. Eventually, the brain degrades so much that the person’s body fails and essentially becomes a prison. They become trapped inside a shell.”
Tears welled in her eyes and one rolled down her cheek. “Oh my god. Can we do anything? Can she fight it?”
Her tears broke his heart. He’d tried to spare her this heartache all those years ago, but now he’d brought it right to her.
“There’s nothing we can do. Huntington’s is always fatal. Their victims... Their bodies shut down. Fail them. People usually only live 10-20 years after diagnosis... And they aren’t good years.”
He felt the tears reach his eyes again. He pried his gaze away from the teary beauty before him and tried to focus on the mug in his hands.
“Okay, so we have time, right?” She sniffed and wiped at her tears.
Slowly, he shook his head no. A tear slipped down his cheek.
“I talked to her doctor today. He said he gives her a month, maybe two.”
A sob poured from Bex’s lips. His attention snapped to her at the sound. He watched helplessly as tears rushed down her face.
Without warning, she moved from her chair to sit on his lap. She wrapped her arms around him.
Her warmth and familiarity overcame him. He couldn’t help himself. He hugged her as close as he could, never wanting to let go. Her familiar scent seemed like home as he cried into her shoulder.
“This is why you broke up with me all those years ago, isn’t it? So I wouldn’t have to watch her get worse,” she sobbed.
He nodded against her shoulder. That wasn’t the whole story, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Almost as though she heard his thoughts, she asked, “Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”
“No, Pixie,” he stroked her hair and tried to reassure her, the old pet name slipping out.
Her head snapped up and her teary eyes met his. “You’re lying. I can tell.”
He shook his head.
