AND the game turned out to be much easier than we thought it would be. I was almost disappointed at the lack of Secret Service agents second-guessing whether we were paparazzi and the complete lack of the necessity for me to use my acting skills that I’d honed while playing the difficult role as Chuckie Cheddar Cheese.
We walked into the hospice entrance and glanced around quietly. No one appeared suspicious of a skinny guy carrying flowers and a husky guy wearing sunglasses indoors. I certainly didn’t see anyone speaking into their watch and saying things like, “Red leader, red leader, the whale has breached. Repeat: the whale has breached.”
Sandy pointed to a corner that he apparently wanted me to go stand in like I was a four-year-old child who wasn’t capable of speaking on my own. Then I thought of the last time I’d been in the hospital and had called the sassy black nurse (I still don’t know what an “administrative professional” is) a bitch and a dog and convinced her I was way into incest, so I figured it was probably for the best. But just to show my individuality and the fact that I wouldn’t be bossed around, I stood in a different corner than the one Sandy told me to. He rolled his eyes at me.
I was shocked when he walked over to me only a moment later and said, “Room 214.”
“What? How did you get that?”
He looked a little surprised himself. “I changed the story at the last second and said I was dropping these off on Vince’s behalf. The nurse gave it to me right away with this sort of faraway look in her eye like she wanted to climb Vince like a tree house. Competition is always healthy, I guess.”
“I’ll fucking cut her,” I snarled.
“Easy there, Mrs. Jackson. The good news is they said his mom is having a good day today, whatever that means. The mayor apparently is going to be here this afternoon, so there shouldn’t be anyone up there.”
“Well, there hasn’t been any Secret Service, at least from what I can tell.”
“Gee, you’re such a good lookout.”
“Shut up, Sandy.”
We started following the signs that led up a flight of stairs to the second floor and off to a quiet section of the hospital, which was the hospice wing. It seemed muted somehow, a shade darker than the rest of the hospital. People spoke in hushed tones, and no one paid us any mind.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sandy asked quietly. “Maybe you should just talk to Vince first.”
I shook my head, resolute. “No, we’re here. If she’s able, I’d like to talk to her. At the very least to let her know that Vince is going to be in good hands, even after she’s gone.”
Sandy stopped me by grabbing my hand, the flowers in his other. I glanced back at him, curious about the guarded expression on his face. “What?” I asked him.
“You need to think about what you just said,” he told me, his voice a-tremble. “If you’re planning on telling a dying woman that you’re going to take care of her son after she’s gone, then you sure as shit better plan on doing it. If you don’t, even I don’t think I could forgive you for that, Paul.”
I knew he was thinking about his own parents, and the bright anger in his eyes did little to calm me. “Sandy….”
“No, Paul. You do this and that’s it. He’s yours. No second-guessing yourself. No flip-flopping. No angst for the sake of it. You do this, you stand by it. It’s not fair to anyone if you don’t, but especially that woman in there. She may not like the fact that her son is gay, she may be ridiculous enough to hate him for it, but you don’t get to go in there and make promises you don’t intend to keep.”
I looked down the hall and could see room 214 a few doors down. And I knew that Sandy was right. If I did this, I had to be in for it completely. This couldn’t be some half-assed thing. This couldn’t be something that I would pull back from weeks or months down the road. If I did this, I needed to do it right.
And I’ll be honest, I almost turned around and walked out. I almost retraced our steps until I was standing outside the hospital in the bright sunlight and breathing in air that didn’t smell like sickness and death. I almost walked back to get into the car and drive away and forget that I ever even came to this place. Maybe Vince would have told me about his mom, maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe I wouldn’t know the day she died. Maybe Vince would suddenly say that he needed to go out of town when in actuality he would be going to her funeral.
Or maybe he would tell me everything. Maybe he would tell me everything that night. I didn’t know if it had anything to do with trust, but with how much flack I’d given him over the past week, how fickle and flighty I’d seemed, I could see why he didn’t think I could handle this being dumped in my lap. Maybe it was the very real fact that regardless of how he felt about me, regardless of what he thought he saw in me, we’d only known each other for days. Not years. Not weeks. Not even two weeks. Days. Maybe my parents had met almost the same way. Maybe they’d known that they loved each other right away, and maybe it had worked for them, but it was still fantastical. It was still a fairy tale. Things like that didn’t happen. There was no such thing as love at first sight.
And, of course, that brought the doubts along with it. That maybe, just maybe the only reason he’d latched onto me the way he had was because his mother was dying, because he was losing someone who meant a lot to him and was transferring all of what he felt about her over to me. Once he’d gotten over his grief, he’d realize how mistaken he was about me, of course he’d have never gone for someone like me, it was all just a phase, an awkward dream, a lapse in judgment that wouldn’t have worked out in the long run.
I opened my mouth to tell Sandy that he was right, that we should leave. Instead, I said, “I know. And I’m going to do it anyway.”
He watched me closely, as if trying to gauge my sincerity. I don’t know what he saw in me, but it must have been enough. He handed the flowers over to me and leaned in and kissed my cheek. We both ignored the brightness in his eyes. “Good,” he said roughly. “I’m going to go see if I can find some coffee or something. Call me when you’re done.”
“You’re not going with me?” I asked, slightly panicked.
He shook his head. “This isn’t about me, baby doll. Besides, dealing with one stranger is easier than two. Just… be kind, okay? You don’t know what she’s going through. She may have been a shit to her son, but that doesn’t mean she’s not suffering enough as it is. Okay?”
I nodded, unsure of what else to say.
“All right, then. You go do this thing and then we’ll get out of here, maybe go get your man and take him out to lunch. I think I need to get to know the guy who turned my best friend upside down so quickly.” He kissed me again and he left.
Before I could give myself time to think (read: time to run away), I turned back toward room 214 and walked over. I knocked on the door.
“Yes?” a voice said, much stronger than I’d thought it would be. “Come in.”