Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
I don’t bother to wipe the tears from my eyes as I wander through the park. Not only because it’s dark and the chance of anyone seeing my grief is slim, but because I can’t be bothered anymore. I work so hard at the office to keep it together during the day, that by the time I get home I’ve lost any strength to hold my emotions in check. My husband is dying, and there’s nothing I can do about it. And worse of all, he’s asking me to do the unthinkable. To leave him alone in his suffering. How could he ask me to do that?
I drop down onto a bench and let my tears turn into a full-blown crying session. I need to get it out of my system before I make my way home. Out of my system for tonight, anyway. Tomorrow will be a repeat. And the next day. And the next. It’s just one vicious circle of grief and misery. And I have no idea when it will end. When he will cease to be here.
When he will stop fighting.
The ring of my mobile phone sounds from my pocket, and I pull it out to find Billy’s mother calling. I uncharitably consider letting it ring off, the thought of talking to her not appealing in the slightest, but she’ll want to know how her son is, and she won’t stop trying until I answer. So I take the call, using my scarf to wipe at my eyes as I get up and start wandering toward where Boris in sniffing around a tree. “Hi, Linda.”
“How is he?” she asks immediately, avoiding a customary hello as always.
“Resting.”
“And where are you? You sound like you’re outside.”
“I’m walking Boris.” I shoo him away from the tree and get him back onto the pathway.
“Then who’s watching Billy?” she asks, obviously not happy that her son is alone. I gather my patience and bite my tongue to stop myself from spewing a barrage of expletives down the line. She’s his mother, I tell myself. She’s worried.
“Magda’s stopped by as usual while I was at work.” I know it would be silly to mention the row Billy and I just had. Of course, it’ll be my fault in some way, shape, or form. “I’ve been gone ten minutes and will be home in another ten.”
“Magda,” she mutters, and I brace myself for what I know is coming. “You’re his wife, Lo. You should be taking care of him, not some strange Spanish woman.”
My willpower to hold back buckles. “She’s a trained nurse,” I point out. “And our lives might be falling apart, but I have to work to pay the bills, Linda.”
“We’ve had this discussion. If we had the money, we would lend it to you. But with Billy’s father’s dodgy heart, he can’t work anymore, and we barely survive on my wages.”
I grate my teeth. “I wasn’t asking for your money, Linda. I was asking for your understanding.” The woman is infuriating. My relationship with her hasn’t strengthened in the face of tragedy. It’s weakened.
“You should be taking care of him.” She sniffs, completely ignoring my appeal to her compassionate side. But, of course, Billy’s mother doesn’t have a compassionate side. She must realize that what she’s suggesting is out of the question, unless she wants her son being cared for on the damn street. I’m already being stretched to my limit to make sure that doesn’t happen. Without my salary, we’d be in even more financial shit.
I spot Boris up ahead sniffing in the direction of the road. It gives me the perfect excuse to end my call with my difficult mother-in-law. “I have to go, Linda. Boris is heading for the road.” I hang up before she can accept, or maybe not accept, and go darting off to catch my dog. “Boris!” I call, unraveling his lead from around my neck. “Boris!” Thankfully, he pays attention and looks up at me, coming to a stop just inside the gate that leads out onto the main road. “Good boy,” I say, attaching his lead and giving him a rewarding scratch of his ears. “Come on, let’s go home.”
We make our way out of the park, and I try so hard to push back the unpleasant conversation I just had with Linda, but, of course, that just leaves oodles of space for the conversation I had with Billy to fill my mind again. Fresh tears pinch the backs of my eyes as a result. The glare from the streetlamps and traffic lights become blurry as the water works its way to the front on my eyes and collects, ready to stain my cheeks again. What did we do to deserve this kind of punishment? What happened to our happily ever after? My mind drifts, seeking comfort, calling on happier times.