Maybe It's Fate, page 20
“Probably,” she admitted. “But I don’t need to know the game to cheer for Cutter, do I?”
I shook my head. “No, you definitely don’t.”
We took a few minutes and looked at the menu. We placed our order when the young man came back and waited for our drinks. Once we had those, I told her more about the ins and outs of the game.
Our food came and we ate, the conversation flowing easily between questions about our lives. She told me about her work at Caldwell & Crest, and I filled her in on my years playing professional ball. We talked about family, her siblings, and how she considered Miri her sister even though she had one. It felt natural, like we’d been sitting in this booth for years instead of just one night.
When we finished, I walked her outside, the winter air crisp around us. She turned to me, wrapping her arms around herself, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or something else.
“Thanks for dinner and the adult conversation that didn’t revolve around tears and my best friend dying,” she said softly.
“Anytime.” I reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before she could react. Then, before she had a chance to step back, I leaned in and pressed a light kiss against her cheek. Just enough to linger, just enough to make her wonder.
When I pulled away, she stared at me for a moment, something unreadable in her eyes. Then, she smiled, a small, knowing smile that told me she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted to be.
Good.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and stepped back. “Next time, I’ll teach you how to dribble.”
She rolled her eyes and slid over the bench of my pickup truck. “Not if you want to win, Coach.”
I definitely wanted to win . . . her.
Chapter 25
Antonia
I parked and stared at the hospital. It was five floors, painted in a brownish-yellow color with what I assumed would be colorful landscaping when spring arrived. The main doors and emergency room entrance were around the corner from each other, which should tell people this place was small.
Staff and visitors moved in and out, and an ambulance pulled into the bay. I watched as one paramedic got out and opened the back door, and then a stretcher appeared, along with another medic. They moved slowly, though, not in any rush to get their patient inside, and I wondered why they’d had to bring in whoever it was in the first place.
I finally resigned myself to getting out of the car and going into my temporary office. Miri was already inside, hooked up to whatever she needed so they could pump copious amounts of drugs into her body. What they ought to have done was feed her, since she hadn’t eaten a meal in weeks. I got that the medicine made her sick, but not eating was making her fragile body even weaker.
How was she supposed to fight and win if she couldn’t keep anything down?
“Because she isn’t going to win,” I said to the parked cars as I walked past.
It’d been two and a half weeks since Miri had called me in the middle of the day to tell me she was sick and that I needed to come. I’d now done two Monday mornings with groggy kids determined to make me pull my hair out because they couldn’t move fast enough, despite being up on time. The constant rush of little humans was exhausting.
And yet, time was moving like molasses.
Every day, eight hours seemed like sixteen. By the time I’d dragged myself back to the house last week, I’d barely eaten dinner before tucking Nova into bed. If it weren’t for people like my mom, Weston, and Mara’s mom, I didn’t know how I’d manage. Whoever said it takes a village to raise a family—they weren’t joking. I knew I was going to have to figure things out because my mom couldn’t keep coming up to Grove Hill to stay, even though she’d never tell me otherwise. She had a life and a job back home, and as much as I wanted to keep her to myself, my dad missed her.
The elevator ride to Miri’s floor was slow, stopping on each floor to let people off and on. By the time we reached the fourth, we were crammed in the small box like a can of sardines. Not that I knew what a can of sardines actually looked like, but if I had to guess, this was it.
I sighed heavily when the number five lit up on the panel above and made my way to the door, barely escaping before they closed. As I walked by the nurses’ station, we greeted each other like lifelong friends, and I supposed if I was going to live here, I might as well add them to my list of people.
I didn’t know if I could do their job. Not only did they have to memorize all the complex medical words, but they also had to know medical procedures, lifesaving techniques, and which meds could go together, all while maintaining their decency as humans. I’d lost count of how many times I’d wanted to stay in the bathroom and cry. Their scrubs were cute, and they looked wicked comfortable, although I could never get on board with the shoes they wore.
Miri was asleep when I entered her room. I set my stuff down on the extra table the nurses made sure was in here for me and took my laptop out of my bag, only for my phone to ring. Brendan’s name showed on my screen. I wanted to send him to voicemail, but it was a workday, and I felt like getting paid.
While rushing out of her room, I slipped my earbuds in and accepted the call. “This is Toni,” I said, acting professionally.
“It’s Brendan.”
“Hi, what’s up?”
“Can you do a virtual today, around three?”
This could’ve been an email. I tapped my screen and looked at my calendar. Cutter had practice after school, so I didn’t have to rush home for him, and my mom was still here to get Nova off the bus.
“Yes, that works. My calendar should be updated for you to see.”
“It is . . . but I wanted to talk to you.”
“About work?”
“No, Toni. About us.”
There wasn’t an us anymore.
“I know you’re upset with me, and I get it. Miriam’s important to you, but I want you to think about what you’re giving up if you decide to become guardian of her children. Nova’s what, five? Do you really want to raise someone for the next thirteen years? And how will you pay for Cutter to go to college? I really want you to think about this because it affects both of us.”
I saw red. Was he serious? I didn’t know which tidbit to tackle first.
“Brendan, you asked if I was choosing the kids over you, and I said yes. I didn’t hesitate or second-guess myself. This is where I want to be, with them, guiding them through life the way their mom would’ve wanted. Cutter and Nova are a part of my life and always have been. They’re not going away. They need me as much as I need them. As far as us . . .” I inhaled deeply and stared out the window, into the parking lot. “My heart isn’t broken because you’re not in my life, Brendan. I think we haven’t loved each other for a long time and were just comfortable in our relationship.”
“I do love you.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t love you. Not in the way you deserve to be loved, and I honestly don’t see a relationship working between us. I’ll always want something you can’t give and wonder if you’re going to bail because we don’t see eye to eye on a future together. And you’ll always want something I can’t give, and that’s my undivided attention. The kids will always have that from me. This is where my heart is.”
Brendan groaned and then let out a long-exasperated sigh. He wasn’t used to women breaking up with him. “See you at three,” he said and hung up. I wished we could go back to the days of hearing a dial tone when someone hung up on you because that would’ve been better than the dead air of a failed relationship.
On my way back to Miri’s room, one of the nurses told me we had visitors. I didn’t know whether to thank her or cringe that she wasn’t considering me a guest.
Chatter emanated from Miri’s room, and I heard laughter. I needed to take more videos of her before it was too late. We were almost out of time, and I wasn’t even close to being ready. I went in, with a fake smile on my face, and was pleasantly surprised to find Samira and Vera there.
“Good morning,” I said to all of them. “How was your nap?” I walked over to Miri and stroked her hair. Some of it had started falling out, but we weren’t to worry about that right now.
“The meds make me tired.”
And sick, weak, and translucent.
“I know, sweetie.” I turned to face the others. “It’s nice to see you ladies.”
“We’re here for the deets,” Samira said.
“Deets? About what?”
Vera waggled her finger at me. “Don’t you dare play coy with us.”
“I’m far from shy, Vera. But I do wish you’d enlighten me on these so-called deets.”
“She’s worse than you,” Samira said to Miri.
Miri laughed, and I had the keen sense of mind to keep up whatever this was just so I could hear her laugh. I raised my eyebrow at her, hoping she could tell me what in the hell her friends were going on about.
“They want to know about your date,” Miri said happily.
“What date?”
“The one with Mr. Eligible,” Vera said as she fanned herself. “I’ve tried to set him up with my daughter, but nope. He wasn’t interested. But you come to town, and our boy is smitten.”
I held my hand up. “Is ‘Mr. Eligible’ Weston?”
“Of course he is,” Vera said.
“We didn’t go on a date.”
“Yes, you did!” Miri blurted out. “He asked you to dinner, picked you up, and brought you back after curfew.”
Vera’s and Samira’s mouths dropped open. I rolled my eyes and sat down with a huff.
“We went to dinner. It wasn’t a date.” Or was it? He’d picked me up, treated me like we were on a date, and even kissed me at the end of the night—albeit on my cheek, but still, his lips touched some part of my skin, which was close to my mouth. And I may have covered my cheek with my hand when I stared at myself in the mirror once I got home, asking myself what it meant that I could still feel his lips pressed there.
No, dinner wasn’t a date, but maybe I wanted it to be.
Weston intrigued me. He was kind, he had an air of confidence about himself, he listened, and he asked questions. He knew when to show up and when to back off. Mostly, he could have any woman he wanted, and yet he was spending his free time with or around me. And Lord help me, he was sexy, in that ruggedly-handsome-in-a-flannel-but-could-rock-a-suit sort of way.
But it was more than attraction. Weston was everything Brendan wasn’t, which felt mean to think. It was clear to me they’d been raised differently, and it wasn’t Brendan’s fault he’d grown up with entitlement. Although Weston had the same, being a former professional baseball player. His priorities were more focused on his friends, community, and the students he taught and coached. Brendan cared about his tee times and trips to Aruba.
Where Brendan avoided difficult conversations, Weston leaned into them, asking the tough questions that made you stop and think before you blurted out an answer. He listened and didn’t gloss over the important things that mattered. Brendan brushed everything aside for a party.
Brendan had always been about the easy parts of life—the elegant dinners, the weekend getaways, the static companionship. But Weston, he wanted the hard stuff. He wanted to sit in hospital waiting rooms, spend his weekends fixing broken houses and hearts, and help teen boys navigate life.
It wasn’t fair to compare the two. They were night and day, each with his own attributes and flaws. Weston just was the sun and moon wrapped in a shiny bow.
I swallowed hard to clear my thoughts. My feelings didn’t matter because Miri and the kids were my priority. They needed to be my focus. Not the sexy neighbor.
“Did he pay?” Samira asked.
“Yes, but—”
“No buts,” Vera interrupted. “That’s a date, and he told Jerome, who told Lee.”
“Who in the hell are Jerome and Lee?” I snapped.
“Jerome is Weston’s assistant coach, and Lee owns the diner you went to the other night,” Miri said, her voice growing hoarser. “Lee and Weston are good friends.”
“Oh, who are we kidding: Weston is good friends with everyone in town,” Samira said.
“Regardless, it wasn’t a date. We talked about basketball and . . .” My cheeks flushed. I could feel them burning while these women stared at me with the same raised-eyebrow expression. I rolled my eyes and threw my hands up in the air.
“It wasn’t a date,” I tried to reiterate, but my voice failed me.
“He likes you,” Samira said. “I can see it in his eyes when he’s talking to you. He doesn’t sit with just anyone at breakfast—mostly Jerome, or he takes his food to go.”
“He’s being a good friend,” I countered.
“Or he’s flirting with you,” Vera said.
“Oh, he’s definitely flirting,” Samira said. “I see the way he looks at her during breakfast.”
I shook my head and glanced at Miri for some help, but she was almost asleep again. I thought about asking Samira and Vera to leave, but I figured they needed to spend time with her, whether she was awake or not.
It’d been so long since someone had flirted with me. I honestly didn’t know what to even look for. Other than Brendan, I hadn’t paid attention to another man in a long time.
I bit my lower lip, now wondering how many other signs I had missed.
“He’ll ask you out again,” Samira said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“The timing isn’t good,” I told her. “Miri and the kids are my focus right now.”
“Weston knows this. He wants to be there for you and the kids.”
“As a friend. That’s all I can take right now.”
The ladies nodded, but they had a little smirk playing on their lips, and something deep down told me this conversation was far from over.
By midweek, the news wasn’t good, and even though I’d expected that, it still tore me to pieces on the inside.
“Yesterday’s scans show the cancer has spread,” Dr. Frederick said. “It was our goal to keep the clusters contained, but we’ve been unsuccessful.” He rested his hand on Miri’s leg in what I’d come to see as a comforting gesture. For the little time I’d known this doctor, he’d had an impeccable bedside manner.
Miri and I said nothing after he’d left. What was there to be said? She already knew I was sorry and willing to do whatever I had to fight for her survival, but even the doctors in the best hospital had said there wasn’t much to be done.
I crawled into bed and held Miri as she cried. She clutched my blouse, her tears wetting the fabric, while my own fell onto the top of her hair. For a moment, I thought that my tears could save her, that they held the cure she needed. But even in my own fantasy world, I knew that was too far fetched to be believable.
Hope was futile. It no longer existed. Not that it ever did, but in the back of my mind, I hoped for a miracle, for all of this to be a nightmare, for Miri to wake up and be free of this horrible disease that had festered in her body until it was too late to do anything about it.
One of the nurses came in. She smiled softly as she completed her tasks, pressing buttons, reading printouts, and preparing to inject Miri with more drugs.
“No,” Miri said croakily. “I’m done.”
“Miriam . . .” The nurse trailed off.
“You heard her,” I said as I shook my head. “She’s done.”
The nurse nodded and backed away. I heard the door click closed softly.
“I want to go home,” Miri said, pulling me closer. “I want to go home and be with my babies.”
“Okay. I’ll let them know.” How those words had come out of my mouth was beyond me. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back the body-shaking sob I felt coming on. She wanted to go home. She wanted to die in the house she had always wanted, with her children by her side. I would do whatever it took to make that happen for her, even though it was killing me on the inside.
It took me a handful of minutes to find the strength to move. I knew once I did, this would be final. Before I left her room, I glanced at my lifelong best friend—the woman who had been my one true confidant and the only one who knew absolutely everything about me—and saw her for who and what she was: a warrior.
It took a couple of hours, but Miri was discharged. While staff members got everything ready, I arranged to have someone come to the house every day from the local hospice center. Knowing or seeing Miri in pain wouldn’t work for me or the kids, and I wanted her comfortable. I emailed work and told them I was taking a sabbatical. If they wanted to fire me, they could. There was no way I was taking precious time away from Miri. Then, I called my mom and cried.
When we arrived home, a few new cars were in the driveway. We walked in, both of us riddled with sadness, to find Miri’s friends there.
“Welcome home,” they screamed when she entered the living room. They’d surprised her with a homecoming, treating her as if she weren’t coming home to die, but coming home because she was going to live.
While they embraced her, I excused myself to the kitchen, where I found my mom. Her arms wrapped around me tightly. She held me as if she was trying to absorb all my pain.
When we parted, she wiped at my tears and kissed my forehead. “There are no words to ease what you’re feeling,” she said softly. “But I’m here for you.”
“Thanks. I just want to make sure she’s comfortable and . . .” I paused when I heard Miriam laughing. “And content. Her friends are making her feel that way right now. I guess I can’t be angry they’re here.”
“Nope, it’s how they’re going to grieve. While she’s your beacon, she’s their friend.”
I nodded and stepped away. The counters and small table the kids ate breakfast at were full of food. More food than we’d be able to eat.
“Weston said there’s a freezer at his house we could use,” Mom said as she opened a package of paper plates. “Some of this will need to go there, and some we’re going to eat now. Come on, help me put these platters on the dining room table for everyone to munch on.”
