when he lost his mother. She couldn’t imagine how hard it had been for a young boy on the verge of manhood to watch his mother suffer so, knowing there was nothing he could do to help. Tris was a born protector, like his father. How hard must it have been for them to stand by and watch, helpless to defend a woman they clearly adored? “I’m sorry.”
“She went through chemo and for a while we thought she was going to recover.
Then it came back. She wanted to die at home, so we took turns taking care of her. She died on my watch.”
“ What ?”
“She was sleeping a lot at the end. The pain was unbearable so the doctor gave her morphine. I was sitting with her. Her breath was raspy, labored. It was like there was a rattle in her chest.”
Lane nodded. She’d heard the sound many times over the years as she worked in the hospital with dying patients.
“I was sort of drifting off to sleep in the chair when I heard it. Or rather, I didn’t hear it. The room had gone quiet. She’d stopped breathing. There wasn’t time to call for help or to even say goodbye. She just…stopped.” 65
Mari Carr
Lane felt tears streaming down her face and she fought to find some words to comfort Tris. Her mind kept coming back to the fact he’d been avoiding the apartment, avoiding his pop. “You don’t think it was your fault your mother died, do you?” He shrugged. “No, not really.”
“Not really? Tris, your mom was sick— very sick. There was absolutely nothing you could have done.”
“Maybe not, but I can’t do it again, Lane. I can’t watch another parent die. I’m not strong enough for that. Maybe I will be in fifty, sixty years from now.”
“Your pop’s not dying.”
Tris nodded and when he looked at her again, she noticed a glimmer of hope. “He really did seem better today.”
She smiled, wiping the tears from her face. “I told you so.” He reached out and drew her close. She buried her face in his chest and she felt his heart beating fast and hard against her cheek. He rested his head against hers. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bastard this week.”
She hugged him tighter. “You haven’t been a bastard at all.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” she replied. “Me too.”
* * * * *
Lane stared at the clock the next afternoon and wondered if she could squeeze in a short nap while Tris and Ewan took their pop down to the restaurant for a little while.
Today was Mr. Collins’ first day out of the apartment and she knew he was looking forward to the opportunity to get back to his beloved pub and his friends.
There was an afternoon Orioles doubleheader and they thought it might do the old man some good to watch a bit of it with his mates. She wished she had the energy to share his enthusiasm about watching the game.
66
Waiting for Wednesday
She’d been living on four or five hours of sleep each night since her arrival in the apartment, in her attempts to hide her strange problem. Last night, after Tristan’s confession, she’d tossed and turned, unable to put the image out of her mind of a fifteen-year-old boy sitting with his dying mother. As a result, she’d slept less than two hours.
“You look like shit.”
Lane looked up and realized Tris had come down from his room. “Thanks.” He plopped on the couch next to her. “What gives?”
“Didn’t sleep well last night. Worried about your pop’s first venture downstairs.” Tris frowned. “He’ll be fine, right? Because if you think he’s doing too much, too soon—”
She immediately regretted her lie. “Oh no, he’s perfectly capable of going downstairs. Don’t mind me.”
Ewan and his father came down the hall before Tris could make any further comment.
“You ready?” Mr. Collins asked and Lane grinned.
“I think I might let you guys get started without me,” she said. “I have a few things to do up here.” Like sleep. “I’ll come down later.”
“Okay,” Ewan said. “But