Aidan (8 page)

He shocks me speechless when he says, “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for a line right about now.” I guess while I had my urge to smoke, he was fighting his own for his old vice—cocaine. To my knowledge, he’s been clean for almost two years now. Since he fell in love with Lia. If I knew nothing else about his wife, that would be enough to make me love her. He’d been snorting for years to deal with the shit Cassie had put him through. He’d managed to build an empire and thrive while keeping his addiction mostly secret. I, of course, knew, and it possibly made me a shitty friend, but I never tried to talk him into getting help. Hell, I understood why he needed it and figured if he was fully functional on it, then what was the harm? I realize now that my thought process was probably a bit skewed, but I also knew that you had to
want
to stop the destructive behavior before you actually could. Otherwise, you’re going through the motions with no dedication behind it. Something else I’m well acquainted with.
How could one woman wreak so much havoc in the lives of two very different men? How did we allow that to happen?

“You’d better not let a certain little blonde hear you say that.” I laugh as he grimaces. “How‘s Lia doing? I know you mentioned she was running a company with Lee.” It was still hard for me to reconcile that Lee Jacks was Lia’s long-lost father. It was a well-known fact that he’d operated in gray areas for years although nothing had ever been proven. He seemed to be crazy about Lia, though, so I was willing to overlook anything else I’d heard. Rumors and innuendo were always ugly, even when I was certain some truth was thrown in.

His eyes soften, and he gets that damn whipped look he always does when he talks about her. Fuck, I never actually thought I’d see the day, but it suits him. “She’s amazing. I know she’s still dealing with a lot of baggage from her stepfather’s attack, but the fact that he’s dead, and she doesn’t have to look over her shoulder any longer helps. Plus, Lee bought the company I was telling you about, and she’s engrossed in helping him run it. Rose working with her now doesn’t hurt any I’m sure.”

The lump is back in my throat when I ask, “And the little one? How is Lara doing? I can’t believe how much she’s growing. Thanks for sending the pictures; I enjoyed the hell out of them even if I didn’t always say it.”

“Hey, you might have been gone, but you weren’t forgotten,” he assures me. “And Lara is great. She’s walking and into damn near everything. It takes me five minutes just to pry the damn toilet open now since some kind of lock is on the lid. I figure one day, she and I will piss our pants at the same time.”

I toss my head back, laughing at his words. I can just imagine my previously hardcore bachelor friend trying to live in his baby-proofed home. I bet it’s freaking hysterical. “I want to see them both soon,” I say. “Hopefully, not on the evening you and Lara have your future toilet miss.”

“Just let me know when,” he says, and then his expression goes somber. “I know you’re going to want to spend time with your parents. How was your mom this morning?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, one of my nervous tics that I’ve never been able to stop. Somehow, it always seems to ground me when I’m gathering my thoughts. Then I find myself saying something that even shocks me. “She’s dying, Luc.” I hear his sudden intake of breath as I continue. “No, she didn’t say that and neither did my father. They didn’t have to. It’s not even the fact that she looks frail and sunken. It was what I saw in her eyes. In one unguarded moment when she didn’t have her parental shield up, the truth was there and so was her acceptance. She’s going through the motions and having chemo, but she fully expects to die. And what scares the fuck out of me is that you and I both know my mother is never wrong. I don’t think she would be putting herself through these treatments if not for my dad and me. This is for us, but she has no expectations that it will change anything.” I’m amazed that I manage to get it all out without breaking down. A part of me is still removed from what’s happening as if I’m discussing someone else’s mother. I think it’s the only way I can deal with the horror of what’s happening.

“Holy fucking shit,” Luc hisses and sags back in his seat. He grips a handful of hair, looking as if he’ll pull it out at any moment. “Fucking hell!” He knows my mother well enough not to argue with what I said. She was always one step ahead of us whenever we were trying to get away with something, and my father often joked about her freaky intuition. I don’t think she’s ever made a prediction that didn’t come true at some point. And even though she didn’t verbalize what I said, she might as well have. Her eyes have always been the window to her soul if you paused long enough to look into them. Of course, she could also see into mine, so as I got older and had perhaps a little more to hide, I tried to keep those direct looks to a minimum. Fuck, why hadn’t I done that earlier? But I’d instinctively sought hers out, looking for a truth I would only find there. Apparently, I hadn’t processed it until just now. “We’ll get her the best doctors, man. I’ll get on it right away. The survival rate for cancer is higher than ever. We can still turn this around,” he says urgently. I wonder if he has any idea how desperate he sounds as he continues to tick off an internal list he believes would save the woman our hearts both claim as our mother.

When he’s run out of steam, I say, “I’m going to her next appointment with her. I should know more then. Tonight, I’m picking up dinner from Leo’s and taking it over. That is one of her favorite places, and God knows she needs to eat something.”

Looking at me as if I’m a ticking time bomb, Luc says angrily, “I’m so fucking angry, Aidan. Your mom. When I told Lia last night . . . Well, you can imagine her reaction. She knows how much I love your mom. I just keep asking why. Why fucking her? You’re taking this so well, while I’m freaking the fuck out. How is that possible?”

I look down for a moment before admitting, “I have no idea. As long as I keep moving and don’t focus on it, I’m okay. The minute I let it in, though, I’m screwed, and I won’t be of any help to her that way. The last time that happened, I left town for a year. That luxury is no longer available to me.” We talk quietly for a while longer about business, leaving the personal stuff behind by unspoken agreement. We’re both at our limit today. I tell him I’d like to start back to work but will need to schedule around my mother’s needs, which of course is no problem at all.

I go through a round of goodbyes that are almost as long and tearful as the hellos before I’m once again standing on the sidewalk in front of Quinn Software. I can hardly wrap my head around everything that’s transpired in such a short amount of time. As I push my hands into my front pockets, I again think of Kara. I had checked my phone on the way down from Luc’s office, and there’d been no reply to my previous text. I guess she’s as good as telling me that whatever we had is over. I can’t help but worry about her, though, being there all alone. With that in mind, I shoot off another text.

Within seconds, a brief reply comes through.

And that’s it. No attempts at keeping the conversation going and no questions about how I’m doing.
I had told her about my mom.
I walk toward my car, running a hand through my hair.
Thx for checking.
She had seemed jealous over Brandy but maybe I had misinterpreted that. Had my suggestion to see Brandy later in the week bruised her pride? After all, she and I are eerily similar it seems. Does
Kara
have someone else? Here? She turned up, somehow took over my life, and now, I’m pining for her. Strange how this resembles Cassie and her entry into my life.
Cassie. She had never wanted me.
Thinking of her doesn’t bring the same agony and pain, so I’m clearly beginning to heal. What I said to Luc was true. Cassie had wreaked havoc wherever she went and in the end, it was that havoc that killed her. I hadn’t failed her. But with Kara?
It had been bliss
, not havoc. Am I doomed to keep forming attachments to women who don’t want me? I can’t let myself turn Kara into some kind of twisted replacement for Cassie. I hate to even think that it could be a possibility, but I certainly allowed myself to develop feelings for her almost overnight, which never happens. It’s always been Cassie in my heart and strangers who meant nothing in my bed. Even the ones I’ve seen on a more regular basis have never touched anything inside me other than lust. I certainly didn’t spoon and cuddle. But with Kara, I’d done that and more. Part of her appeal is that she’d seemed just as lost as I was at times. She was a complex puzzle I wanted to solve, a soul I gravitated toward. And we were explosive in bed. Her cocky, sarcastic personality was so fucking sexy, and she took no prisoners. Shit, I really did miss the little smartass. I could use some comic relief right about now that’s for sure. However, I’ll let some time pass and put my focus where it needs to be. Then if the urge is still there, I’ll find out where Kara is. After all, I have family connections, and I’m not afraid to use them.

I
’ve descended into depression
. Since Aidan left, I’ve regressed. I’m finally able to admit that to myself. For the first few days, I kept busy walking along the beach and shopping in town, but the nights were harder. I returned to the house Aidan had been renting every evening at the
normal
time. A part of me hoped his car would be there, but it never was. Then I’d return home and have several glasses of wine while I sat on my deck and watched the waves break onto the shore.

Uncle Lee calls to check on me a few times a week, as does my family. During one of his calls a few days after Aidan left, he told me Aidan’s mother has cancer and that it isn’t looking good. That effectively pushed me from feeling blue to crying for half the day. I wanted to pack my stuff, go home, and be there for the man I’d let myself care for. But then what? If there
was
any doubt he could handle my uncertain future, it is over now. There is no way he will want to become involved with someone whose cancer could return at any time. Statistically, it is highly probable the cancer will return as breast cancer sufferers under thirty-five are at very high risk.

He’s texted me a few times, but I haven’t heard anything from him in days. Since then, I’ve started to send him a message so many times, only to delete it. What is there to say?
Hey, I’m kind of crazy about you. PS . . . I might die of cancer at any moment.
Maybe I’m being melodramatic, but I can’t see how he could want or need to get involved with me. If his mother passes away, that will be two people in just over one year he’s loved and lost. How much could one man take? Cassie’s death had driven him from his home for a long time, proving he was a man who felt deeply. He wouldn’t just dust his hands off and move on to the next woman.

Decisions need to be made soon. When pressured to return home and resume my life, I have repeatedly given my parents a vague answer. I can’t admit that some days I don’t leave my bed. I know I’m spiraling out of control, but I’m just not sure I care. To my knowledge, no one has any idea that Aidan and I were involved while he was here. My family would have certainly mentioned that fact. I’d attempted to ask Uncle Lee a few questions when he’d imparted the awful news about Aidan’s mom, but that’s all he had known, and I couldn’t dig deeper without rousing his curiosity.

I roll onto my side in the bed and clutch the pillow I’d taken from Aidan’s house before I turned the key over to the owner. His scent is so vague that I have to bury my nose in the soft material to pick up a hint. Unfortunately, that sets off another crying episode, and between broken sobs, I vow to myself I won’t let this continue. I’ll cry out every last piece of Aidan Spencer tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll make a plan. I’ve beaten cancer, for fuck’s sake. Getting over a man who is little more than a stranger should be child’s play. In the back of my mind, that irritating voice screams it won’t be that easy, but I ignore it. Tonight, I need that shred of hope that I can forget how much he means to me and find myself again.

T
o say
the month I’ve been home has passed in a blur is an understatement. As I suspected, my mother is dying. She’s stopped treatments and is content to spend her time with my father and me. Turns out, she knew the cancer had spread through her body and was just continuing chemo to buy some time until I came home. Talk about a bucket of fucking guilt. The day she revealed the truth to me, I’d wanted to rage at her. Instead, I walked out to lick my wounds before coming back and collapsing against her chest like a child.

I’ve also been angry with my father for lying to me about her prognosis when we talked the morning I’d come home. Once again, though, the buck stopped with me. My mother loved me so much that she’d been determined to give me time she didn’t really have to give. She wanted me to heal, even if it cost her time with me.
How could she be so selfless when I’d been so selfish?
At the end, when my father knew time was getting short, he’d done something about it. A part of me still resents losing those precious months with her that I can never get back. When I mention that to her one night, she says that if I’d been here from the beginning, we would have wasted those extra months going to doctors. Now that part is over, and what we have left is the type of quality time we haven’t spent together since I was a child. Every moment feels stolen and treasured.

We drove to the outer banks for a few days when she was feeling strong and wanted to smell the salty air one last time. When she’s not felt as well, we’ve sat in the backyard and reminisced about the past. We’ve laughed more in this last month than I can ever remember. We’re all adults now, and our bond is different than it was growing up. We’re very much a family but also friends. Even though I’d remained close to my parents through the years, we’d never had the type of relationship we’ve developed this past month, and I regret it deeply. Again, I want to say if only there were more time. But I’ve come to accept that there will never be enough hours in the day or months on a calendar to say goodbye to someone who’s helped shape me into the person I am today.

Luc has also been by to visit often. A few nights ago, he brought Lia and Lara over for dinner. My father cranked up the barbecue, and for a few hours, we all pretended that this was something we could do every month. Maybe start a new Sunday night tradition. I knew Luc was thinking exactly the same thing when I caught him staring at my mother with pain-filled eyes.

All too soon, the socializing came to a halt. Mom developed a cold that turned into pneumonia. Almost overnight, what little strength remained in her disease-ravaged body was zapped. No matter what they tried, nothing helped her bounce back, and I watched her grow weaker each day. She refused to be admitted to the hospital, so her doctor arranged for in-home hospice care. Even though a nurse was always in the house, my father and I took turns sitting with my mother, neither of us willing to give up precious time. We existed on a few hours of sleep and a whole lot of coffee.

She mostly sleeps, so I’m surprised when I feel her hand gripping mine as it rests on her bed. My eyes fly to hers, and I see her looking at me. She motions for me to remove her oxygen mask, and I get to my feet and gently lift it away. With an aching heart, I listen to her voice, scratchy from lack of use. “My baby boy.”

She is so weak; it takes all I have to keep my shit together. “Hey, beautiful, it’s good to see you awake. You’re taking these naps way too far,” I tease.

A shaky laugh escapes her chest, followed by a bout of coughing. I put the oxygen back on her until she’s recovered and begins trying to remove it herself. “I hate that damn thing,” she grumbles, surprising a laugh out of me. After being so out of it for the last week, she seems almost normal now, although a tad grumpy. I’m beginning to get my hopes up that perhaps she’s turning a corner despite what her doctor says. Then she douses that like a bucket of water on a fire as she says, “Honey, I don’t have much longer left with you.” I open my mouth to protest, and she shushes me. “It’s my time, baby, and I’m ready. My body is worn out, and I’m tired.”

Shaking my head, I say, “That’s just the pneumonia, Mom. When we get that under control, you’ll feel better.” It sounds irrational even to my ears, but I’m not ready to give up.
I’m not ready to say goodbye.

“Aidan, I have cancer,” she murmurs. “There is no getting better. I’m only going to continue to fade away every day, and I don’t want to draw this out. I want you to remember me the way I’ve always been, not as some pathetic shell that lies in this bed for months on end until I waste away to nothing.”

“But we don’t have any way of knowing how much longer it will be,” I argue. “You still have days ahead that will be better. Don’t you want to stay for as long as you can?” I feel a tear roll down my cheek, and I flick it away impatiently. Her calm rationale is getting to me. It’s as if she knows something the rest of us aren’t privy to.
It has always been like this when I think about it.

She shrugs her thin shoulder. “It’s not my decision, son. But while I’m awake and have some of my thoughts together, I want to say some things, so please just humor your mother and listen to me ramble.” I nod my head, knowing what’s coming. I have no idea how I’ll get through it, but I remain silent, giving her what she’s asked for. She takes a deep breath and winces but begins speaking anyway. “I want you to know that I couldn’t have asked for a better son than you, Aidan. You’ve been my pride and joy since the day you drew your first breath.”

“Mom—don’t,” I manage to choke out past the huge lump in my throat.

“Sweet boy, let me finish,” she chides. “You were a crazy and rambunctious boy who grew into an intelligent, driven, and thoughtful man. You’re successful in business and have amazing friends who love you. Only one thing is missing from your life, and that’s the type of love that you can only find with your soul mate.”

Holy fucking shit, I can’t believe she’s going there.
“Not everyone has that,” I state calmly. “I tried, and it didn’t happen. Sometimes, you have to realize that you weren’t meant to go the traditional route.”

“That’s such a cop-out,” she snaps.

“If you’re trying to make this last speech warm and fuzzy, you’re kind screwing it up,” I point out wryly.

She giggles, which leads to yet another round of coughing before she gets herself back under control. “Let’s face it, I’ve never been a traditional mom. I have too much personality for that. Plus, I always had to kick your butt when you were bad since your dad couldn’t stand doing it.”

“Please, neither could you.” I laugh. “Both of you guys were always suckers for some tears.”

Smirking, she says, “I knew half the time they weren’t even real. But I figured if you went to the effort to rub water or spit on your face to fake a good cry, then you deserved to be cut some slack.” She shifts around in bed, trying to get comfortable. “Now, as I was saying. I don’t want you to close yourself off to finding love. I realize that you believe Cassie was the one for you, but that’s not what I believe. I think if you break it down, you loved her in the same way you love Luc. But since she was a girl, and a beautiful one at that, your emotions just took over.”

I really fucking hate talking about Cassie, especially to my mom. With anyone else, I’d end this right now, but shit, what am I supposed to do? This is my mother . . . who is dying. If this is the last real conversation we have, I can’t possibly snap the way I want to.
Sit here and listen . . . for her. Let her die feeling as if she helped you.
“Mom, I think it was a bit more than that,” I say gently, since she appears to be awaiting a response from me.

Her eyes are full of empathy as she stares into mine. “Maybe it was, son, but she wasn’t the one for you. There was never any joy on your face or in your heart when she was around. You followed her around like a lost puppy, and she was more than happy to encourage that. In all the years you loved her, do you ever once recall being happy when she was near? Or were those moments always filled with torment? When you love someone, even if they’re not yours, there should still be times you’re together in simple ways that you treasure. Laughing over a joke. Remembering a smile over something silly. Countless moments captured in time that you play in your head like a movie when you’re alone. Do you have any of that when you remember Cassie?”

Now I’m the one shifting on her bed as her words sink in, and I try to come up with even one instance I felt happy when I was with Cassie. And try as I might, every occasion had some type of turmoil involved. Dear God, had I never once just been glad to be with her? We were friends before she ended up with Luc. Shouldn’t some kind of easy relationship have continued on, regardless of how I felt about her?
Fuck.
I drop my head and massage my temples. I don’t want my mother to see how upset I am by this conversation. She’s forced me to take my feelings out and examine them in a way that I’ve never done before, and it’s shaken me to the core. “God,” I hiss out, “I don’t know what to think, Mom.” And with those last words, I know I sound like her little boy again, lost and scared.

Obviously having heard it too, she motions me closer and runs her gaunt hand through my hair, soothing me as she always has. “Shhh, I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart. I just need you to see that
your
love is still out there. I couldn’t leave you knowing you were so closed off to the future and what it holds for you. I want to look down on you and see you walking hand in hand with the woman you love. One who will make you laugh, smile, and even argue with passion. I want to see you with my grandchildren being the kind of man and father that I know you can be. Life is for living, my beautiful boy, not simply existing. The world is full of endless possibilities as long as you’re open to letting them in.”

“I hate this,” I sob against her side as grief pierces my soul. She’s saying goodbye to me in a way that only she can. “What joy can there possibly be in a future that doesn’t include you?”

“But I’ll be there, son,” she assures me softly. “I’ll be the hand on your shoulder when you need strength, the whispering wind on your face when you’re sad, and the voice in your head urging you to reconsider when you’re wrong. There is no power in this world great enough to keep me away from you. I may leave this broken body behind, but my spirit will never be far away. Whenever you need me, just close your eyes and I’ll be there. Talk to me just as you are now. We may not have a relationship in the conventional sense, but the bonds we have will transcend even death. It’s been a great honor and privilege to be your mother. Your father and I have done our very best to lead you down the right pathway in life. You’re a man now, and I think you’re ready to walk those same paths alone. Your father will be here for guidance and advice, and I’ll be above for support. Just remember that even on your darkest days, I’ll be a light for you to find your way.”

“How can you promise me all of this?” I whisper, desperately wanting to believe in her slowly spoken, loving words. Not only are her words slicing apart my heart, but watching her wheeze and struggle to speak them is slaying me.
Such is the love of a mother, as they say.

“Because after months of praying for answers, I finally found peace. Something that would have never happened had I not known in my heart that I’d be here for you in some form. I realize that it’s difficult to accept, but I believe with everything inside me that I’ll see you and your father live your lives. Hopefully, after I’m gone and you’ve had time to mourn, you’ll discover the truth behind my words.”

“I love you more than anything in this world,” I say between sobs. My heart is shattering, and I can’t imagine it ever coming back together again. How many times in your life can a heart break and heal itself? Despite her earlier assurances that I’ll find love, it seems impossible in this instance. I fear I have nothing left to give to another.

“And I love you, my beautiful baby boy. Never, ever doubt that.” She begins to tire, and her words are slurring. I lean over to drop a kiss on her cheek. I pull the oxygen mask back over her face and smooth her hair off her forehead. She’s sleeping when I leave the room.

I rouse my dad from where he’s dozing on the sofa. Since Mom is using their bedroom, he’s set up camp in the living room. They have a couple spare bedrooms, but I don’t think he can bring himself to use one of them. I wonder what he’ll do when she’s gone. Will any of us ever be able to stay in this house again without feeling her loss? On the other hand, I’m not sure my dad would be able to move for the same reason. He takes one look at my face and is on his feet. “We chatted for a while, so she’s resting again now.”
God, this is so hard.
“Go in. She’ll know you’re there.” His eyes search mine as they always do when we “change shifts.” We live each day now wondering if this will be her last. We both need that reassurance from the other that she’s still fighting the fight. There is no way I can tell him about the conversation I had with her because he’d see it as a goodbye just as I did. And as crushing as it is to lose a mother, he’s on the verge of losing a wife. The woman he made his life with.
His soul mate.
They’ve been together for almost forty years now. What it must be like to know you’re going to lose that, and you can’t do anything to stop it?

He’s handled this better than I could have imagined. I’ve gained a newfound respect for his strength and courage. He’s been determined to make her last days as peaceful for her as possible. While I’ve struggled with depression, he’s soldiered on, carrying not only my mother at times but me as well. Truthfully, I don’t think I could have held it together without him. I’ve always thought of my father as an exceptional man, but I’ve also been privileged to see why my mother loves him so much. He’s the rock that supported her and the safety net there to catch her. She was able to shine like the brightest star because she never had to fear losing her way. He was her true north and that hasn’t changed.
Will I ever be that to a woman? Do I have that in me?
I squeeze his shoulder as he moves toward the door. “She’s talking today?”