He stared at them for a long minute. “I’m not going to complain. I am absolutely not going to complain. This is fixable.”
I had to agree. When something was fixable, you didn’t complain.
He retrieved his belongings, then went to get us a room.
The walls of the building couldn’t keep out the weird taint in the air. It was like I could hear howling, but it was in my head. No actual sound traveled through the air.
Ben stayed up late refamiliarizing himself with the contents of his briefcase and laptop. More online searches, more note-taking. I wanted him to come to bed. I wanted to be held.
Then I remembered it was Saturday, and I turned on the clock radio by the bed.
“You’re listening to Ariel, Priestess of the Night.”
Like I needed to make myself even more depressed. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Ben scowled at me.
“Do you have to listen to that?”
“Yes,” I said bluntly. He didn’t argue.
Ariel droned on. “Let’s move on to the next call. I have Trish on the line. She’s trying to decide whether or not to tell her mother that she was infected with lycanthropy and became a werewolf two years ago. The kicker: her mother has terminal cancer. Trish, hello.”
Strangely, I suddenly understood the attraction of a show like this, and why people listened to my show. There was always somebody out there who had bigger problems. You could forget about your own for a while. Or secretly gloat, At least it’s not me.
“Hi, Ariel.” Trish had been crying. Her voice had a strained, worn-out quality.
“Let’s talk about this, Trish. Tell me why you think you shouldn’t tell your mother what happened.”
“What’s the point? It’ll upset her. I don’t want to upset her. If it’s true—if she doesn’t have much time left—I don’t want her to spend that time being angry with me. Or being scared of me. And once she’s gone… it won’t matter. It doesn’t matter.”
“Now, why do you think you should tell her?”
Trish took a shaky breath. “She’s my mother. I think… sometimes I think she already knows that something’s wrong. That something happened to me. And what if it does matter? What if when she’s gone, there is something after? Then she’ll know. She’ll die and her soul will be out there and know everything, and she’ll be disappointed that I didn’t tell her. That I kept it secret.”
“Even if you know it’ll upset her now.”
“I can’t win, either way.”
“Is there anyone else in your family you can talk to? Someone who might be able to help you decide what’s best for her?”
“No, no. There’s not anyone. No siblings. My parents are divorced, she hasn’t spoken to my father in years. I’m the only one taking care of her. I’ve never felt this alone.” She was on the breaking point. I was amazed she could even speak coherently.
“What’s your first impulse? Before you started second-guessing yourself, what were you going to do?”
“I was going to tell her. I’m thinking—it’s like everyone talks about how you should work things out before it’s too late. But she’s so sick, Ariel. Telling her something like this wouldn’t be working anything out, it would be torturing her. It’s easier to keep quiet. I want to try to make this time as comfortable and happy for her as I can.
My problems, my feelings—they’re not important.”
“But they are, or you wouldn’t be calling me.”
“I suppose. Yeah.”
Ariel said, “It’s commendable, your wanting to put your feelings aside for your mother’s sake. But you’re not convinced it’s the right thing to do, are you?”
“No. No, I’ve always talked to Mom about these things. And I’m not going to have her anymore. I don’t want to face that.” Finally her voice broke. My heart went out to her. I was almost crying myself.
Ariel spoke gently, but firmly. “Trish, if you’re looking for me to tell you what to do, or to give you permission to do one thing and not another, I’m not going to do that. This is a terrible situation. All I can tell you is, listen to your heart. You know your mom better than anyone. You should think about what she would want.”
I hadn’t intended to do it this time. I was too tired to be snarky. But I found myself digging out my cell phone.