The Life That Mattered (Life Duet 1) - Page 84
“Yes. It’s…” I shook my head, brushing the pink nail polish onto Lila’s nails “…weird. I know she only has so much time left, and her seizure was a very hard reminder of that. But today she looked good. Healthy. It was hard to believe that there’s this cancer spreading through her body, stealing her life.”
“And your dad? How’s he holding up?”
“I’m scared for him. After she had that seizure, I was sitting on the floor in my house, holding my kids, Anya with a bleeding cut. And Ronin wasn’t doing well. Mom was on the floor in the bedroom waiting for the paramedics, and you were still in the ICU. Something inside of me snapped, causing me to take a step back and reevaluate what would be left of my life if I lost my mom, you, and Ronin. And I knew … I knew Franz and Anya would be enough. More than enough. I just don’t know if my dad will be able to step back after Mom dies and see that he still has enough left in his life to … live.”
The second I finished that thought, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. “Lila … I … I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.”
I looked up from her hand. It didn’t feel fine. “I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling, and—”
“Evelyn, it’s fine.” She nodded, maintaining her best reassuring smile.
After Lila’s parents died, she had a rough time. I wasn’t enough. My family wasn’t enough. The only thing that filled that void in her heart was a flood of never-ending grief. She talked about that time as a black hole with no exit. She took a whole bottle of prescription pills that a friend from school sold her, and I found her in her car passed out later that afternoon in the school parking lot.
“I’m proud of you.” I continued painting her nails.
“Proud of me?” She laughed. “For trying to commit suicide?”
“Once. You tried once. Then you got help. And your situation hadn’t changed. You were still an orphan. You still missed your parents. You still thought life was unfair. But you never tried to check out again. And you could have.”
“Thank you, Evie. That actually means the world to me,” she murmured with soft sincerity.
“You’re a survivor.”
“Ha! I don’t know about that. Look at me. I’m at the mercy of other people to do the most basic things like go to the bathroom.”
“But you’re feeling better.”
“Yes. But I’m not without pain.”
“Where do you hurt?” I capped the nail polish and gave it a few more shakes before doing her other hand.
“My ribs are still sore and my leg. But my lower back has started to really ache at night too. I think it’s just from being bedridden. I’m hoping the physical therapist will help that by getting my body moving, so I can heal quicker.”
My hand shook, so I had to cap the polish again and flex my fingers a few times to keep it from shaking again. “Your lower back, huh. When did it start hurting?”
“About two days ago. It’s sciatic pain, shoots down the back of my good leg. Talk about two steps forward, one step back. But, on the flip side, this has been the best day emotionally that I’ve had since the accident, and it’s all because of you, Evie. My heart is full right now. I can’t believe you’re here, painting my nails like we used to do so many years ago.”
Taking several deep breaths, I held the nail polish brush with a firmer grip to steady my stroke. “I’m happy to do it,” I whispered, but not to Lila, more to a voice … that voice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
From the drive, my house looked like one of those lit villages people put on their mantels at Christmas time—the windows aglow with soft light, the roof covered in snow, and smoke wafting from the chimney as if breathing out a long exhale on a cold evening.
Sue’s car was gone, and the Subaru was parked in the garage. I anticipated takeout waiting for me and the kids in need of baths. On the nights Ronin got home before me, which wasn’t often, he picked up dinner so at least everyone was fed. Since the accident, work took everything out of him. I was appreciative of his efforts. Takeout was fine.
I slipped off my boots and opened the door. “Sorry, I’m so late—”
“Shh …” Ronin put a sudsy finger up to his lips.
With wide eyes and an unhinged jaw, I stood unmoving at the door. The house was quiet. My husband stood at the kitchen sink doing dishes in his thermal shirt and jeans that he wore over his base-layer pants to commute to and from work.
I slid off my jacket and padded into the kitchen in my wool socks.
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