Radiate (41 page)

Dad slides his keys across the table to me. “Take the truck, Little Kid.”

I grab my purse and hustle out of the house. I climb up into the truck, adjust the mirrors and the seat, and then back out of the driveway.

I have one destination and one only.

Maxwell Memorial Hospital.

***

“Were you serious about wanting to talk to my dad about working at Game On?” I ask when I get to Ross’s hospital room.

“Of course I was. Since you didn’t say anything, I figured he wasn’t available.”

“Oh, he’s available. Your headhunter even contacted him,” I say.

“Neal did? Excellent. Seems like it’s meant to be. I’ll call Neal in the morning and get him moving on the interview,” Ross says.

“You’ll love Dad. He’s way smart and he’s a good businessman. He’s athletic, too. At least he used to be,” I say. “We would go water-skiing up at Lake Martin, and he played tennis all the time before he started the hardware store.”

Ross laughs and holds his hands up. “Sounds like we need to get Jared Matthews active again.”

I carefully fling myself onto my friend’s chest and hug him, being sure not to hurt him. “Thank you so much.”

He chuckles. “I haven’t hired him yet.”

“I know. But still. You’re the best, Ross.”

He hugs me back, gripping me to him. “You are, too, Hayley.” When he doesn’t let go right away, I feel his body shake, and I realize he’s crying.

“Oh my God, Ross... Don’t... don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Ross’s handsome face is splotchy from tears, and fear outlines his features. My strong friend, the man who climbs mountains and dives with sharks admits, “I’m scared shitless, Hayley. How did you get through this?”

“I had no other choice.”

I get a tissue and wipe his tears away. “Don’t tell anyone I lost it like this,” he says. “Lorraine and Lora wouldn’t let me live it down.”

“We all have our moments,” I say, thinking of the five major times I cried.

“The doctors will know in a week if the treatment is helping.”

“Keep thinking positive thoughts,” I say, trying to encourage him.

“I don’t know if I can,” he says softly.

“Did you not listen to what you’ve been telling me all along? You’re the one who told me to be tough and it was all mind over matter. Ross, I’m just quoting you back to you. I’m just a kid who didn’t know what in the world she was going through. You told me to believe and I did. You need to do it, too.”

“I gave pretty good advice, huh?” he says with a smile.

“The best.”

He really is dealing with a lot more serious shit than I did. At least, it seems that way. All I can do is be here for him and cheer him on.

“I should let you get your rest,” I say.

“We’ll see if your dad’s a good fit,” Ross says, getting his composure. “And Hayley?”

“Yeah?”

“I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

I smile hard. “You don’t have to.”

***

The chilling winds of December sweep through Maxwell, dumping a foot of snow on our lawns and giving us a beautiful white Christmas. There aren’t as many presents under the tree, but we’re together. Cliff and Lily drove down last night from Birmingham and brought a truckload of baked goods that Lily made for us. Mom cooked a spiral ham with pineapple and honey glaze and sweet potato casserole. The house is filled with the scents of the holiday, mixing with the spicy candles and the minty greens hanging on the mantel. Even Leeny, wearing a red bow that I put on her, seems in the Christmas spirit as she sits underneath the tree and watches us open our few presents.

Mom got a new coffeemaker, a scrapbooking kit, and a simple gold tennis bracelet. Dad got a new job. He and Ross and the headhunter finalized everything last night, and on January first, Dad starts his new position as Associate Vice President of Management at Game On. Ross has someone he can trust, and Dad has a new lease on his professional life.

My parents deserve good things because they’re good people.

I got some movie DVDs, new clothes, and the dangly vintage earrings I’ve been jonesing over from the antique shop next to the hardware store.

“You forgot one,” Dad says, pointing to a small box toward the back of the tree.

“I couldn’t see it for Leeny.” I move the kitty aside and reach for the pretty blue package.

The card reads “To Hayley, from Santa.”

Really? I can’t help but laugh.

I rip off the bow and paper and then peel back the lid of the box. There’s a mound of cotton on top and then underneath . . .

“Car keys?” I dangle the large black key with an
H
on it. We don’t own any Hondas.

“Let’s go outside,” Dad says with a wicked grin.

I’m on my feet in a heartbeat. “What?”

My heart stutters with excitement as we make our way down the hallway and out the door without a coat. I scream out when I see what awaits me.

“Is that for me?!”

Parked behind Mom’s car in the shoveled driveway is a silver Honda Civic.

“Merry Christmas,” my parents shout out.

“But... how... how did you afford this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dad says as we all head down the steps.

I round the car and take it in. So cute. So perfect for me.

I shake my head, though. “This is too much, y’all. I don’t want you to spend too much money on me after everything.”

Dad tweaks my ear. “Be quiet, Hayley. Besides, we knew you needed a car for college, so we got this used for a good deal,” Dad tells me. “It has about forty thousand miles on it, but it’s in great condition and should serve you well.”

“I can’t believe . . .”

“Show her the best part, Jared,” Mom instructs.

Dad opens the door, and I climb inside the black interior, squiggling into the driver’s seat that now belongs to me. I glance down and see the manual transmission.

“Stick shift?”

Dad smiles. “We thought it would be a great way to exercise your leg.”

I’ve only driven a stick a few times, but this is going to be great. I crank it up and test out the air conditioner and CD player first.

Cliff snickers. “You’re such a girl. I’m surprised you didn’t look to see if there’s a mirror on the driver’s side sun visor.”

As Lily smacks him, I say, “Good call!” I flip the visor down and lo and behold, there’s not only a mirror, but one with a light on it.

I crawl out of the car and gather both of my parents into one gigamonic hug. “Y’all are amazing! Thank you soooooooo much!”

Mom kisses my cheek while Dad pats me on the back.

I don’t know how this Christmas can get any better.

Just then, an unfamiliar white car turns into our driveway.

“Expecting more company?” Cliff asks.

Mom tents her eyes with her hand and looks out over the glare that’s bouncing off the fresh snow. The car door opens, and we all collectively gasp when we see who’s here.

“Hi, guys,” my sister Gretchen says.

My heart feels as if it’ll burst out of my chest. I rush over to my sister and hug her with all my might. She holds me tight and then rubs me on the head. “Look at you,” she says in a whisper.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so sorry about—”

Gretchen stops me with a gloved finger over my lips. “You were right about
everything.
” Hand in hand, we walk toward our parents. “I hope you have room for one more.”

Mom is reserved, but her smile is genuine. “You’re always welcome here, Gretchen.”

Cliff claps his hands together. “It’s frickin’ freezing out here. Can we have this reunion inside?”

“I agree!” I say, leading the way. I can play with my new car later.

Inside, Lily, Gretchen, and I help Mom get all the food on the table. Cliff tends to the drinks, filling everyone’s glasses with iced tea for our meal. Dad carves the ham, and we’re ready to eat.

“Let’s pray,” Mom says.

We all join hands—Dad to me to Gretchen to Mom to Cliff to Lily and back to Dad. I bow my head and listen as Dad speaks out as the head of the household.

“Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for these blessings we are about to receive. Thank you for the struggles we have overcome this year with your help and through the love of your Son, our Savior. Bless us and keep us safe this coming year. Amen.”

“Amen,” we all echo.

I’m in full reach of diving into the sweet potato casserole when Gretchen speaks out.

“I have something I’d like to give you,” she says, looking back and forth between our parents. “It’s long overdue, and I hope it will help me make my way back into your lives... and your hearts.”

Tears fill her eyes as she passes over a white envelope to my dad. He reaches into his front pocket for his reading glasses and then peels open the packet.

“Well... shit,” he exclaims when he glances at my sister’s offering. “Gretchen, where did you get money like this?”

He passes the check to me, indicating that I should send it down to Mom. I can’t help but peek at the amount.

My eyeballs nearly fall out of my head. Gretchen snatches the check from me and hands it to Mom, who begins to cry like a newborn baby.

“It’s not quite everything I owe you, but it’s a good start. You’ll be getting monthly payments from me until I’ve repaid you every penny,” Gretchen promises.

“But how... when . . .” Mom asks in spite of her tears.

“I’ve been scrimping and saving and stashing everything away for years, investing in the very funds I sell to my clients. Despite ups and downs in the economy and stock market, I’ve done well. I hope you know how much I regret the actions of my youth and how they’ve affected you guys since then. I couldn’t possibly be sorrier than I am. I’ve been spinning in a helix of humiliation ever since I left home, knowing how horrible I was to both of you. Please know that I’m clean and sober and making something of my life like you always wanted me to.”

“Oh, Gretchen,” Mom cries out, and her shaky hand covers her mouth. My sister slips from her chair and goes to my mother. The two of them embrace, arms enfolding each other in a warmth that spreads to all of us.

“Mommy,” Gretchen whimpers out into my mom’s shoulder.

Dad gets up and joins in the reunion, kissing my sister on the top of her head.

Tears flow as much as the love surrounding us.

The air is lighter and hope lingers high above.

My family is whole again.

We
are
truly blessed.

As we’re cleaning the table, putting food away, and loading the dishwasher, my cell phone rings. It’s Lora.

“Merry Christmas!” I say cheerfully.

There’s a marked silence on her end to the point where I think either the connection failed or she was just butt dialing me by accident.

Then I hear her weeping quietly.

“Lora?”

“Hayley... I don’t mean to ruin your Christmas or anything,” she starts off. “It’s my uncle.”

“Ross? What about him?”

He was fine when I talked to him on the phone last night. He was excited that he was getting turkey and dressing to eat today and hoped it wouldn’t upset his stomach. What could possibly be wrong?

“He’s taken a turn for the worse,” Lora reports. “The treatment isn’t taking. His body isn’t accepting the chemo, and the doctors are grim.”

“Grim? Like he could... ?” I can’t finish the sentence.

“He wants to see you. Can you come with Mom and me?”

My heart cracks at the thought of Ross suffering on this beautiful day of days—or of him being miserable at all. Not after what we’ve been through together and how he’s helped my family. Now I have to be there for him.

“I’ve got to make few phone calls, and then I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

I hang up and waste no time dialing the next number.

She answers on the third ring.

“Hey, Chloe... It’s Hayley. I know it’s Christmas, but I really need your help . . .”

’
Tis not always in a physician’s power to cure the sick; at times the disease is stronger than trained art.

—Ovid

I tuck the collar of my long winter coat up under my chin as I walk down the well-lit hallway of the fourth floor of Maxwell Memorial Hospital.

In front of Ross’s door, I take a gulp of air into my lungs for strength. The room is dark, silent, and there’s a stiffness in the air. Light from the television splashes against the walls dancing over the machines Ross is hooked up to.

Slowly, I approach his bed in my sneakered feet, trying not to wake him up. My new friend has nearly withered away to nothing in a matter of months, about the same amount of time I was hospitalized. Only, my situation seems to have a happy ending. Ross will not be as lucky.

I sit unobtrusively, choking on the lump of disbelief in my throat. It seems like only yesterday that Ross stood at midfield on homecoming night as his niece was crowned. And now . . .

No.

Stop.

I can’t cry.

Not here. Not now.

I wave my hand in front of my eyes, fighting off the sting.

I have to be strong for the friend who has supported me through my darkest hours. It’s hard to accept the bitter pill that sometimes cancer wins out, no matter how hard we struggle to battle it with all our might.

Damn cancer.

Chemicals, medication, surgery, and even prayers often fall short in the war against this malevolent disease.

I clench my fists tighter, staving off the hurt and anger at my utter inability to change things.

I want to scream until there’s no air left in my lungs.

Until I have no voice left in me.

Until my friend is made whole again.

But... it won’t happen.

I have to make the best of the situation, although I tighten my hands on the arm of the chair as the resentment toward the disease churns inside me.

Hell and damnation to cancer and everything it stands for, the evil and destructive blight.

I lift my hand from the chair and extend it over Ross’s on top of the sheet. “It’s not fair,” I whisper, unaware that I’ve spoken out loud.