She frowns. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I’m interested to know.”
“No.”
“You didn’t catch up?”
Her voice takes on an angry tone and she lashes out a little. “No, that’s not why you asked me that. You’re avoiding talking to me about Presley.”
“No, I’m not,” I lie.
“Jett! I’m fucking dying and I want to talk to you about your girlfriend, not about my goddamn studies. I want to talk about the fact you’ve finally found someone to love, and I want to tell you not to screw that up.” Even she seems surprised by her outburst as we lock gazes and process her words. She takes a breath and adds softly, “I need to know you’re going to be okay without me looking out for you. I need to know you’re going to let Presley take my place now.”
I glare at her. I hate those words. “No one can ever take your place,” I force out with distaste.
“I know, but you need to let someone in; you need to show someone that amazing heart of yours, and I’m hoping Presley’s the one.”
Fear rushes through me.
I can’t do this without her.
I can’t lose her.
My heart thumps in my chest and my head roars with panic. I gulp back the bile rising up my throat and grip her hand harder. “I’ve let her in.” They’re the only words I can manage, but Claudia knows the tracks of my heart like the tracks of her own heart, and she’ll understand the significance of those four words. She’ll know the thousands of words I have to describe my feelings for Presley that I can’t say out loud.
We’re both silent for a beat.
Watching.
Knowing.
Silently battling the devastation of this disease. The devastation it hurls at everyone it touches and then leaves behind in its wake as it moves on to break another family. It’s like a fucking bushfire blazing a trail of pain through the lives of everyone it touches. And when it’s done, there’s nothing but ashes of heartache and suffering. And loss.
“I know you’re going to shut down when . . . when this is done, but you have to promise me you won’t do that. You’re so damn scared of losing people that you keep them at a distance, and I hate that for you,” she says, her eyes pleading with mine.
The fury I have at the cancer takes over and spills onto my words. “I hate that I have to lose someone in all of this. I fucking hate that cancer has the power to rip you from my life . . . from your life.” I stop talking, wanting to take back everything I let fall out. And then I expel the breath trapped in my lungs and explode. “Fuck!” I push up off my knees and pace the room, rubbing the back of my neck.
My thoughts are a fucked up mess of chaos and I can’t think straight. A headache begins to pound through my head and my mouth goes dry. I need to get the fuck out of here but I refuse to do tha
t to Claudia.
Her coughing breaks through my consciousness and I turn to see if she’s okay. What began as a few coughs turns into a coughing fit and she fights to get her breath back so I sit next to her on the bed and rub her back, whispering, “Shhh, shhh,” over and over as if it will help. As if it will make a fucking difference when I know nothing will make a difference.
“You’ve been an amazing brother,” she whispers once her coughing resides.
And there it is.
We’re already talking in past tense.
My body sags.
Cancer: 1, The Vaughns: 0
31
Jett
“Jett, wake up.”