Fragile Bonds by Sloan Johnson
Chapter 1
“Daddy! There’s a woman at the door, but she’s not saying anything!” My cheeks flood with embarrassment as a little boy’s voice slices the early morning air.
I can’t help but wonder how long I’ve been standing on the front porch, lost in another time. It’s been six years since I walked out this very door, but the pain in my heart is as raw today as it was then.
“Melanie?” My eyes shift from the little boy at my feet to the only man I’ve ever loved. His sapphire eyes are steely, cold and rimmed with fine lines at the corners. The subtle tick in his square jaw gives away the fact that he’s biting back his displeasure at seeing me here.
“Hello, Xavier,” I bite out, hoping I sound professional. To my own ears, my voice is breathy and too high. My throat feels scratchy, as if I haven’t had anything to drink in days. “I’m here to help with Alyssa.”
I take a tentative step over the threshold, sucking in a sharp breath. When I started working as an end-of life-companion four years ago, I thought it was a brilliant way to combine my nursing degree and my desire to help the terminally ill die with dignity. It’s never easy, but this is going to be my most difficult assignment to date. Most days, I go home to my one bedroom apartment wondering why I continue to put myself through the emotional drain of watching patients slip away before my eyes.
With every new family, I promise myself I won’t get attached, but it’s hard when I’m the one they rely on to ease more than just the physical pain. It doesn’t matter that my job is to care for the person who is dying, I become a shoulder for family members to cry on as time slips away. I’m the one pushing the family to eat when their grief and need to be close to the person whose days are numbered consumes them. Inevitably, the patient passes away and I move on to the next family. My problem is, I can’t deny the fact that I’m already emotionally invested in this family.
I kick off my tennis shoes, lining them along the foyer wall by force of habit. Looking around, I feel a moment of peace created by the taupe, ivory and blue color scheme carried throughout the foyer and living room. Flames dance in the gas fireplace, taking the chill out of the mid-November air.
The little boy with shaggy brown hair looks up at me with sad blue eyes. “Daddy sometimes lets guests keep their shoes on when they visit,” he informs me.
I crouch down, ignoring the clenching pain in my chest. “I just figured your Daddy wouldn’t want my dirty shoes on his white carpet,” I respond quickly, ruffling the boy’s hair. He’s a miniature version of his father, right down to his eagle eye for details. I’m going to have to be mindful that I don’t get too comfortable here.
“That’s smart,” he says with a quick nod. When I go to stand, I feel the boy tug at my pants leg. I look down and see him worrying his lip. “My name’s Jacob and I’m four. My daddy told me someone was gonna come to our house today and help make mommy better. Is that why you’re here?”
Closing my eyes, I bite my lip while figuring out how to dance around the truth with Jacob. Even though I understand why his father said what he did to the boy, I have a hard time lying to anyone, even the youngest family members. The truth is, there’s nothing that will make his mother well again, my job is to simply help her face the end of her life surrounded by those closest to her instead of in a hospital.
I lead Jacob to the couch, pulling him onto my lap. More than anything, I want to hold him to my chest, smoothing his hair as I tell him that I have magical powers that will keep him mom alive. Beyond that, I wish it were true. Even I can’t bring myself to admit the reality that Alyssa Ross is dying and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that. Less than three minutes in, and I’m already too attached. I silently vow to do everything I can to protect this little boy and his father, even if it kills me in the process.
“Your mommy is very sick, Jacob,” I confirm. Not like he needs me to tell him this, he sees it every day. Then again, according to her chart, she’s been ill long enough that he might not remember a time when she wasn’t this way. Her cancer ravaged body might be completely normal in his eyes. “I promise, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure your mommy isn’t hurting, okay?”