Fourth Down (4 page)

Living the dream.

*****

“Don’t forget your scarf, Ma. It’s
cold outside,” I reminded my mom as we prepared to leave the house.
It was Tuesday, which meant an appointment with her oncologist to
review her latest blood work results and discuss any necessary
tweaks to her chemotherapy routine.

“I should be reminding you to bundle
up,” she joked as she wrapped the red scarf around her neck that
she had worn for as long as I could remember. It’s true that our
roles had switched over the last few years since I’d been back
home. Growing up my mom had made sure I had everything I needed to
succeed. Even when she worked two jobs to support the added costs
of me playing football, she was always there to encourage me and
take care of me. Now it was me who worked as much as possible to
pay the bills. My mom had to stop working and go on disability this
past summer when the chemotherapy treatments became more frequent
and took too much out of her.

My mom went out to my truck, and I
locked the front door of the small two bedroom house that I grew up
in. Climbing in the drivers’ seat, I started the engine and cranked
the heat on full blast. If it was just me I would forgo the heat
and roll the windows down, letting the crisp November air blow
through the cab, but my mom was always cold lately.

“Remember that you’re coming in with
me today to see Dr. Greene,” my mom said.

How could I forget? I usually dropped
my mom off for treatments or waited out in the front waiting room.
Hospitals gave me the creeps, and I tried to avoid them as much as
possible. I didn’t need the doctor to tell me that my mom was
getting worse; I could see it every day. But I was afraid that was
the reason she was insisting I join her today.

We already knew that her cancer
couldn’t be cured. The chemotherapy treatments only served to keep
it at bay for as long as possible. I knew my mom was slowly dying,
but I tried not to think about it. She wasn’t going to die today or
tomorrow, and I didn’t think much farther into the future. After my
injury in college, the future ceased to exist for me.

After a quick stop at the bank to
deposit the majority of my tip money, I pulled up to the front
entrance of the hospital and let my mom out. She waited for me to
park and join her before leading me to the bank of elevators that
would take us up to the fifth floor. The Oncology floor.

My mom was wringing her hands as we
rode the elevator. “And remember we have the home health service
starting today,” she said.

A couple of weeks ago I decided we
needed to take advantage of the home health aide that her insurance
would cover. The routine used to be that I would work afternoons
and evenings, so I was available to drive my mom to her
appointments in the mornings. As she grew weaker, I worried about
her being home alone while I was working. Today was the first day
an aide would be over to stay with my mom. When I brought up the
idea, I planned to just use the service on the days I was working,
but my mom had other plans. She insisted we use the full benefit
and have someone every day, so I would be able to have some free
time.

Only I had no idea what I would do
with my free time. Josh was married and had a new baby at home.
Grady was wrapped up in his rekindled relationship with Lindsay.
They would all welcome me, of course, but I felt like the fifth
wheel whenever we all hung out.

We waited in the waiting room with
other somber and worried people until the nurse finally called us
back. I expected to be going to an exam room, but instead we were
taken to Dr. Greene’s office. As we took our seats on the other
side of his large glossy wood desk, I was overcome with the sudden
urge to run - far and fast. Before I could bolt, my mom reached
over and patted my arm. The look in her eyes wasn’t worried, and I
realized that she already knew what Dr. Greene was going to say.
This meeting was solely for my benefit, and I felt like I was the
target of an intervention.

“Thanks for coming in today, Ford.
Maggie and I have already discussed her latest lab results and
scans, but she wanted me to go over them with you as well,” Dr.
Greene said with the kind of ease that could only come with telling
people every day that they were going to die. What a fucking
depressing job.

“Maggie’s breast cancer is Stage Four,
which you already know. The latest tests show us that the
chemotherapy is no longer effective.”

Dr. Greene and my mom were both
looking at me, waiting for me to say something.

“What does that mean? Does she need to
switch to another type of treatment?” I asked.

Dr. Greene shook his head and
explained, “There are no other treatments to try, Ford. We’ve
reached the end of the road. Your mother has four to six months
left, and she has opted to discontinue treatments.”

My eyebrows pulled together in
confusion, and I frowned at Dr. Greene and then at my
mom.

“What do you mean four to six months?
Four to six months left to live? Why are you stopping treatments?
Don’t you want to fight this, mom?” My voice sounded desperate, but
I couldn’t control it.

My mom reached over and laid her hand
on my arm. “Ford, honey, I have fought this. I have fought this
cancer for years, but now it’s time to let go.”

“You mean give up,” I accused
her.

“No, Ford. I’m not giving up; I’m
accepting the inevitable. The treatments are no longer working, and
I don’t want to spend my last few months dealing with the side
effects of the chemo. We’ve known this time was coming, and I need
your support.”

I sat back in my chair out of her
reach and crossed my arms over my chest. I was probably acting like
a spoiled kid, but this was hard to hear. She was right that I knew
this time was coming, but I never actually imagined what it would
be like when it happened.

Dr. Greene went over some test results
and other shit that made no sense to me. It didn’t matter anyway.
The bottom line was that in four to six months my mom would be
dead. Dead, as in no longer living. Dead, as in gone
forever.

I paid just enough attention to the
conversation to pick up that the plan now was for my mom to only
take medicine that would help keep her comfortable. As she neared
the end - God, that was hard to think about let alone say out loud
- she would move to a hospice facility. I didn’t really understand
what hospice was exactly, but I wasn’t in the mood to ask more
questions and find out more information that I didn’t want to
hear.

We didn’t talk when we left Dr.
Greene’s office and rode the elevator down to the first floor. When
we reached my truck, I helped my mom into her seat and took a
minute before getting into my own. Resting against the tailgate, I
took off my baseball cap and ran my hand through my hair. As hard
as this was for me, it had to be a million times harder for my mom.
I needed to get it together and stop acting like such a pussy. She
needed my support, and I would do my best to give it to
her.

“Do you want to stop at that place on
the lake for lunch?” I asked when I started up my truck. It was a
local winery that served lunch. The food was overpriced and I
always left feeling like I’d hardly eaten anything, but my mom
loved the light girly food they served.

My mom’s eyes lit up, and she said,
“I’d love to. But we need to be home by 2:00 to meet the home
health aide.”

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed.

“Thank you, honey,” my mom said. She
looked like she had more to say, but she knew me well. I’m sure she
could tell that I was about at my limit for today.

After a lunch of some cold nasty soup
and a salad that looked like it came straight from the yard, I
resigned myself to grabbing a burger when I got to work later. It
was just a few minutes before 2:00 when we pulled onto our
street.

Our house was in a more rundown area
of town. Up until last year, my mom had always made our small yard
cheery and welcoming with tons of flowers. But now that the yard
work was solely my responsibility, the yard was lucky to see the
mower once a week. Our house, like the rest of my life, had become
neglected and depressing.

As we neared our house I
saw an old rusted Honda in our driveway, parked in
my
spot.

My mom noticed my scowl and warned me,
“You be nice. I don’t want to scare her off on her first day.” Why
was she always telling me to be nice?

The Honda was empty as I pulled up
next to it. Looking toward our front porch I saw a girl standing at
the door. When I had called the agency to line up an aide, I
declined a personal interview and asked them to pick the two aides
that would alternate days. I was now regretting that decision as I
saw how young she looked. Surely they didn’t send someone who was
still in high school.

She hadn’t heard us arrive and was
still facing the door, probably waiting for someone to answer it.
With long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was average
height and slender though her figure was concealed under a pair of
bright pink scrubs. When we walked up the sidewalk she heard us
approaching and turned around.

Oh, hell no.

Her eyes widened as she saw me, and
even though I wasn’t close enough to see now, I knew they were
hazel. I remembered them from the night before when she tried to
order a drink without ID at the pub.

Looks like she remembers me too. The
pleasant smile fell from her face, and she started wringing her
delicate hands in front of her.

Yeah, sweetheart. You should be
nervous, because there was no way in hell I’m letting some
irresponsible party girl take care of my mom.

My mom greeted the girl warmly,
oblivious to the tension between us. “Hello! You must be Poppy
Mitchell. I’m Maggie Walsh, and this is my son, Ford.”

Poppy? What the fuck kind of name is
that?

They shook hands and Poppy’s eyes
flicked to mine. “It’s nice to meet you, Maggie.” She paused a
moment before acknowledging me. “Ford.”

My mom was looking at me with a no
nonsense expression and practically sending me mental messages to
be nice. I stuck out my hand but didn’t say anything or smile. I
wasn’t going to make this easy on her. Poppy eyed my hand warily
before placing her hand in mine. Her skin was soft but she had a
good grip. She raised her eyes to mine, and I could almost see her
trying to regain her professional demeanor.

My mom unlocked the door and went
inside. I held the screen door for Poppy to go before me. I wasn’t
a complete asshole, and I knew I would hear it from my mom if I
abandoned my manners. But she hesitated and turned to face me
instead. I was a good eight inches taller than her, so she had to
tilt her head to look up at me when she spoke.

“Um…I want you to know that I wasn’t
trying to drink underage last night. Brooke, my friend…she ordered
for me all on her own.”

My eyes swept over her face before
locking with hers. I didn’t say anything for a minute, kind of
enjoying making her uncomfortable. She could very well have been
telling the truth. I knew girls like her friend, and they were
nothing but trouble. Even if she wasn’t trying to drink underage,
it didn’t erase the fact that she was young. I didn’t have any
confidence that she should be taking care of my mom.

“Mmm hmm,” I muttered and motioned for
her to go into the house. She seemed taken aback that I didn’t
automatically accept her excuse and frowned at me. Her eyebrows
pulled together and her full lips pouted slightly. Young, pretty
and sexy - even in scrubs. A dangerous combo. But I doubted she
would last more than a day, so I didn’t need to worry about
it.

My mom immediately started to show
Poppy around the house while I went to change my shirt. I had to be
at work in less than an hour, so I traded my sweatshirt for a long
sleeve shirt with The Last Call logo on the chest.

By the time I got back downstairs, my
mom and Poppy were sitting on the couch chatting and laughing like
old friends. I narrowed my eyes at them and took a seat across from
them. Time to start the interrogation. When I left for work I would
call the agency and have them find a replacement before Poppy’s
next shift.

“So, what kind of experience do you
have?” I asked, interrupting their conversation. Both my mom and
Poppy turned to look at me. Poppy’s eyes still had a trace of the
nervousness I had seen earlier, and my mom looked annoyed at my
rudeness.

My mom opened her mouth, probably to
scold me, but Poppy replied first. While the slight tremor in her
voice gave her away, I begrudgingly respected that she was trying
to hold her own against me. She lifted her chin slightly and
launched into a recitation of her resume.

“I’m a junior in college, majoring in
biology. I plan on going to medical school to become an oncologist.
This is my fifth aide assignment in the two years I have been
working for the agency. I also teach yoga classes at the community
center.”

Okay, I’ll admit all that is
impressive. I’ll admit it to myself, but I wasn’t ready to let her
off the hook quite yet.