Page 62 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

GOODBYE

Sebastian

We landed in Vancouver, and Ben got quiet.

Holding Lexi’s leash out of the plane, her head pressed into his knee and his hand on her head, and eventually climbing with her into the back of the rental car Harlan had arranged.

I drove through the quiet night to the house, feeling the weight settle onto me. No avoiding it now. We were here.

Up the sidewalk to the little house, Ben walking the same way I’d walked out of that shower. Step, step, step. Eyes front, face set. Alix told him quietly, “I’ll take Lexi for a while, OK?”

“OK,” he said, and that was all.

Ben used his key, and we were through the door. No rushing this time. Ben setting his backpack on the floor, hanging up his coat, toeing off his athletic shoes, then hesitating. I said, “I’ll go with you.” He didn’t say anything, just nodded and headed down the hall.

The smell was more pronounced now, disinfectant over the musty sweetness. A different woman came out of the back bedroom. Older, taller, heavier. Strong. She said, “You must be Ben and Sebastian. I’m Evelyn. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

She glanced at Alix and the dog, and Alix said, “I’ll wait in the kitchen too.”

Ben was breathing faster, and I knew how hard those last few yards were to cross. Through that door again, and we were there. The hospital bed, and a chair on either side. Too warm in here, and that smell.

And Solange in the bed.

She couldn’t have weighed ninety pounds. The flesh had been eaten off her, leaving skin over bone. Her eyes sunk deep in their sockets, her cheeks hollow, her skin tinged with yellow. That would be her liver, shutting down. Her eyes, though, sharpened into focus on Ben, and her skeletal arm lifted.

It can’t have been easy, but he did it. He walked to that chair, sat down, took her hand, and said, “Hi, Mom.” His voice broke on the word, and my throat tightened.

“Benji.” Her voice was a thread. “Baby. You came.”

Ben’s face worked, and then it crumpled. Her other hand came up to hold him, and she said, “It’s OK. It’s OK.”

The sight of his curly head on his mother’s breast, his shoulders shaking. Her hand in his hair, the way she’d have held him and comforted him all his life. When she’d been the mom. When she’d been in charge.

My father’s voice in my head. “Promise me. Promise.” Too much to bear, but there was no choice.

Solange looked at me, then, though she didn’t let go of Ben. She held Ben like he was her lifeline, because he was. He was what she’d been waiting for.

“Seb,” she said, the voice even more thready now, thin lines of tears down her cheeks. “Thanks.”

I put my hand on her shoulder, and it was like touching a bird’s wing. “I was always coming,” I said helplessly. “I was always going to be here for you.”

She said, “I’ve been … watching you. On … TV.” A pause for breath, then, “You’re … strong. I’m glad.”

Ben had sat up, but he was still holding his mother’s hand. I said, “I’ll be strong for both of us. And for Ben. I promise.”

The tears were still snaking down in those two thin lines, and I grabbed a tissue from the box and mopped them up, gently as I could do it. She whispered, “I’m sorry.”

I said, “You have nothing to be sorry for. This is what we can do for each other. You can give me Ben, and I can raise him. You can count on me.”

“I didn’t … know,” she said. “We wasted all our … time.”

“No,” I said. “We know now.”

She closed her eyes like she was too tired to go on, and I said, “I love you.”

She didn’t answer, but her lips formed the words. Love you. We’d never said them to each other before.

I said, “It’s OK to go now. It’s OK. You don’t have to fight anymore.” The tenderness filling my entire chest, so strong it hurt.

Ben said, “I don’t want you to die, Mom. Can you not die?” Crying, now. Looking so young. Looking so scared.

She didn’t answer, because she’d fallen asleep.

Or something.

Alix

I’d known it would be hard. It was harder than that.

Ben’s back, walking down that hall, and Sebastian’s, following him.

I watched them go, nodded to the woman who came past them, took off my coat and work boots, and held Lexi back when she would have followed Ben.

She sat down, looked at the place where her boy had disappeared, and whined, and I put my hand on her head, said, “I know, girl,” and took her into the kitchen.

“Hi,” I told the woman. Evelyn, she’d said. “I’m Alix. How is she?” Not dead, or I’d know. The house had that hushed expectancy about it. Everything too neat, too quiet, too bare.

Too sad.

Evelyn sat at the table, so I did, too, and Lexi collapsed beside me, whining so softly I could hardly hear it. Evelyn said, “She’s still conscious, but I’m guessing that’s because she’s been holding on to see her son. Sometimes they do that. One last thing to do before they go.”

I swallowed. “I’m glad she’s still here to see him. For him, too. Look,” I decided to add. “I’m the support system here. Well, Lexi and me. I’m guessing you’ve done this a lot, though. Death.”

“Quite a few times. It’s easier when they’re older, when they’ve had plenty of time.

Solange—Dr. Robillard—she’s only thirty-six, and with that boy.

She was a good doctor, too. Not the warmest, you know, pretty businesslike, but she sure cared about her patients.

Would go to bat for them. It’s a waste, is what. ”

“You know that?”

She shrugged. “You hear things from friends. A private lady. Had her son, and that was about it. Not a sharer. Not a whiner, either. She fought hard, trying to stay here for him. She’s still fighting. Hard for some of them to let go.”

I got up and got a glass of water, because my mouth was suddenly dry. Think, I told myself. “What could I do that would be helpful?” I asked. “I don’t want to intrude, but—what?”

“Coffee,” she said. “Food. A jigsaw puzzle is good. People sitting there for hours, don’t know how long it will be, can’t focus, need something to do with their hands.

” She reached into her bag and pulled out something woolly.

“Crochet, for me. It could be days. I don’t think so, not now that she’s seen him, because she’s knocking at the door, but it could be. ”

“OK,” I said. “That’s what I’m doing, then, because you’re right, food is exactly what Ben needs, and coffee’s what Sebastian and I do. I’m not Canadian, though. What do I pick up? And where?”

When you’re not sure what to do, do what you can. I couldn’t take Sebastian’s pain for him, much less Ben’s. I could pick up coffee, though, and I could hold a hand. So that was what I was going to do.

Sebastian

Solange hadn’t woken up when Alix came in with a tray of drinks and a white paper bag.

She said, “I got coffee, and I also got Ben a Coke and donuts from Tim Hortons. Evelyn said their donuts are a thing. I got you a sandwich, too, Ben, but if you just want the donuts, go for it. Want to come eat in the kitchen with Lexi?”

“OK,” Ben said. “But somebody should?—”

“I’ll stay with your mom,” I told him. “We can take turns.” He nodded and walked out, his face blank, and after a minute or two, Alix came back with another kitchen chair, which she set beside mine.

I said, “You don’t have to stay.”

She said, “I won’t if you don’t want me, but I’d rather be here.”

I said, “You have interesting tastes,” and tried to smile, but the smile wouldn’t come.

“Was she awake before? Did Ben get to talk to her at all?” Alix asked after a minute, sipping at her own coffee. She had to be so tired by now. I knew I felt like I weighed four hundred pounds.

“Yeah,” I said. “She held him a while. It was good, I guess.”

Her face was too soft when she said, “I’m sure it will help him,” and I had to look away and breathe a little. “Did you have a chance to say goodbye?”

My chest closed again at that, and I said, “Yeah.”

“Sebastian.” Her hand was on mine. “You are such a good man. And I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t answer that time. I would have cried.

We sat there all night. Ben came back after a few minutes, holding Lexi’s leash, and sank down on the floor, his back against the wall, with the dog’s head in his lap.

After an hour or so, Alix and I got onto the floor too, because those chairs were getting uncomfortable.

She held my hand, and somewhere in there, I dozed off.

I woke up in the semi-dark, not sure why I had, then heard the difference in Solange’s breathing. It was louder now, raspy and irregular, with long pauses between the breaths, and I knew what that meant. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open.

I said, “Ben.” Quietly.

He started awake and said, “What? Is it?—”

I said, “I think so.”

He didn’t say anything, just sat on the chair again and picked up her hand. I sat myself, with Alix beside me, and picked up the other one. It was ice-cold.

More irregular breaths, the pauses longer now, and a gasp. And silence.

Ben said, “Is she?—”

I said, “She’s gone.” Which was what it felt like. Her body was still here, but it was a shell, because she was gone.

Ben didn’t cry. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there. Alix got up and left the room quietly, and I heard soft voices in the kitchen. It would be a different aide now, because it was … I looked at my watch. Four-fifteen.

I said, “People will be coming now. The nurse. The funeral home. You don’t want to be here for that. Let’s walk Lexi.”

“I don’t—” Ben still just sat, and beside him, Lexi whined.

“Lexi has to pee,” I said. “And then eat.”

“Alix said …” Ben stopped, looked at Solange’s still form, then looked back at me. “That dogs give a lot and don’t ask for much, so that’s the one thing you have to do, no matter what else is going on.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Take care of them, I mean.”

“She’s right.” I stood up, my tired, cramped muscles protesting.

“So come on. Let’s go. And—hey.” I turned back to him.

“It always feels like this. Bad. Confusing. Exhausting. You aren’t doing this wrong.

It’s just how it is. The person you love is here one minute, and the next, they’re gone. And that’s never going to feel right.”

“OK,” Ben said, and got to his feet, stumbling a little. “Come on, Lexi.” At the door, he looked back at his mom. His mouth moved, and I thought I knew what he was saying.

Goodbye.