Chasing Charlie

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE: TELL HER

  Vince wasn’t ready for Charlie to come over, as he was still tired, suffering from indescribable pain, and barely able to talk. He wasn’t ready to start the last chapter of their book. Not ready to see the unnerved look on his son’s face as he entered the room. Not ready to say goodbye. That would have to wait until tomorrow night, most likely.

  “Hey, buddy,” Vince whispered as Charlie fetched the book from atop the dresser and sat down with him.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Charlie said, cheering noticeably. “Angela said your throat hurts a lot.”

  “It does. I was talking to my work friends…not much of a voice left. Do you think you could read to me again tonight?”

  Charlie nodded, eager to please, and opened up to the bookmarked page. He settled into the crook of his father’s arm, oblivious to the battle that was going on above him, the struggle between Vince and the tears he so dreadfully wanted to shed.

  “I don’t wanna be done yet,” Charlie announced, looking up from their book about a third of the way through the last chapter. It was only a few pages, but at Charlie’s reading speed, it had taken a while. “I want you to be awake for the end but you’re sleepy.” He stared up at his dad, his eyes pleading.

  “We can stop for tonight,” Vince said “Thanks for reading to me.”

  “Did I do a good job?”

  Vince smiled fully, gripping one of Charlie’s little shoulders. “You did an excellent job. You read it better than I would have.”

  “Really?” Charlie said, happy to buy into his father’s praise.

  “You bet.”

  “Okay, I gotta go now, Daddy. Auntie Jen said not to stay too long if you didn’t feel good,” Charlie said, turning for a hug that squeezed almost every last bit of life from Vince’s body.

  “Okay. G’night, buddy. Sweet dreams. I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I love you too, Daddy,” Charlie said, still hanging on to Vince as he accepted a kiss on the top of his head. “You should get lots of sleep tonight and take a nap tomorrow so you don’t get sleepy when we read, and we can finish,” Charlie advised, scooting off the bed.

  “I’ll do that,” Vince said roughly, watching Charlie trot down the hallway. He knew Charlie wouldn’t go anywhere if he knew the final days were truly here, that his father planned to say his last goodbye to him the following evening. Vince had a momentary fear that he hadn’t said enough to Charlie—what if something unexpected happened and he passed away before the sun came up? But that was unlikely, he decided. The pneumonia wasn’t ready to take his life just yet, and nothing else felt off.

  Out in the living room, Angela and Charlie got a few much-needed minutes together. “I love you, sweetie,” Angela said, wrapping him up in her arms, kneeling in front of him.

  “I love you too,” Charlie said with a distance to his voice that it pained Angela to hear, as it was brand new. “I miss you.”

  “Oh, I miss you, too. So much. But we’ll see each other tomorrow, right?”

  Charlie smiled now and nodded, diving in for one more hug and a few kisses.

  Any doubts as to whether it was better for Charlie to leave tonight were removed when Dr. Peters and Rosie showed up at eleven. Vince didn’t remember having asked for the doctor. In any case, a late-night visit would have alarmed Charlie.

  “Your fever’s leveling off a little, but your lungs sound worse now,” the doctor informed Vince after checking his vitals and his breathing. “You seem distressed. Is it the pain or something more?”

  “Had some friends stop by tonight,” Vince said. “They had to go out of town…Said some goodbyes…I’m worn out.”

  “That’s definitely understandable,” Dr. Peters said. “Angela told me you’re in a lot of pain and can’t swallow anymore. Is that correct?”

  Vince nodded absentmindedly and glanced up at Angela, who stood in the doorway, a non-participative observer for now.

  “Well, I think it’s time we put you on a subcutaneous infusion right into your thigh. No pills to swallow, just a line running under your skin and all your medications coming in at the same time. A machine automatically drives a syringe that holds enough medication for twenty-four hours. We can give you fluids subcutaneously into your shoulder, too. No hassle, very effective. Sound good to you?”

  “Sounds good,” Vince said. He was so tired and so far-removed from a clear state of mind that he would’ve agreed to a lobotomy, though.

  “If you experience any breakthrough pain, you can hit the boost button, but the medication will obviously run out sooner and a nurse will need to come change it sooner. Now…Angela also said you were thinking about oxygen. It might help you feel a little less short of breath. Want to try that?”

  The prospect of being able to say more than three words at a time sounded appealing to Vince, so he nodded.

  “Anything else causing you trouble?”

  “Feeling a little…more nauseous than usual,” Vince murmured.

  “We’ll get you something for that, too, then. We’ll add it right into the infusion with all your other medications.”

  Vince avoided Angela’s eyes after one quick look. She looked hurt, to say the least.

  “We’ll get you started on an infusion tonight. I’ll keep you on the same dose of morphine as before, but if it’s not enough, you can always give it a boost and let us know next time someone comes by so we can adjust for the next round. Do you have any questions?” Dr. Peters asked Vince.

  “No, I think we’re…all set. Thank you for coming out.”

  “You’re quite welcome. Let’s get you set up and we’ll be out of your way so you can get some sleep.”

  Vince expected Angela to stay in the room, letting the doctor pass by on his way out to get the equipment he’d brought along. However, she followed him down the hall, hungry for every last shred of information she could get. Vince wondered why this even surprised him.

  “I saw that look,” Rosie said with a tinge of reproach in her otherwise pleasant voice.

  “What look?” Vince asked while she started changing the fitted sheet on the empty half of the bed.

  “You didn’t tell Angela about your nausea. I understand you don’t wanna worry her, honey, but she signed on for this expecting you to let her know what’s goin’ on. This isn’t a time to be proud or a time to worry about burdening others. That woman out there makin’ Dr. Peters pull his hair out, she wants to help you. Same with your brother. They are your caregivers. So let them do their jobs, ya hear?”

  Vince grinned at his miniature scolding and nodded. He felt like he was doing far too much of that lately, but gestures were worlds easier than speaking.

  Able to hear that Vince’s side of the bed was ready to be changed, Mitch rushed in to help Rosie lift. Though Vince knew Rosie could probably lift him herself if she needed to, he knew she wouldn’t draw attention to his emaciated frame by saying she didn’t need Mitch’s help. He actually wondered, now, if maybe she had some sort of special signals worked out with Mitch and Angela so that he didn’t have to know everything.

  Though Vince didn’t mind Dr. Peters or Rosie, even when the latter chided him, he was glad to be without any medical personnel once his bed was changed and Angela and Mitch were trained on the new equipment. The only plans he had for the rest of the night were sleep, sleep, and more sleep.

  “Feeling better yet?” Mitch asked, his eyes on the tubing that ran underneath the sheet and into Vince’s thigh. Another tube ran from a hanging bag of fluids and into Vince’s shoulder.

  “Bit,” Vince answered above the hum of the oxygen machine. A cannula hooked behind his ears and delivered air through his nose. The change in breathing wasn’t remarkable, but it was better than nothing, and he supposed that after giving his body and vocal cords some rest, his baseline breathing would be better anyway. He fought off a yawn, knowing how much it would hurt his chest and not wanting to run Mitch out of the room. Mitch was anything but blind, though.
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  “I’ll let you get some sleep. ’Night. Love you, man.” Mitch gave his brother’s shoulder a soft pat before standing up.

  “Love you, too. See you…in the morning.”

  Angela no longer seemed irked when she turned in for the night with Vince after getting him ready. “Everything still working all right?” she asked.

  Vince nodded and found Angela’s closest hand and gave her three simple words. “Sorry I lied.”

  She looked shocked to have an apology so quickly, maybe to have one at all. “It’s okay. I just…wish you didn’t feel the need to lie in the first place. Mitch and I are here to help you.”

  “I know.” Vince licked his dry lips and signaled that he was ready to be rolled onto his side. He could do most of the work himself, but he now had two infusion sites and oxygen tubing to worry about, so he held things in place or out of the way while Angela nudged him. “Favor?” Vince asked once the lamp was out. “Actually, two.”

  “Anything. What is it?” Angela asked eagerly.

  “Getting a bit…of the chills,” Vince admitted with a shiver, knowing that this meant his fever was about to climb, even if just a little. “A blanket or two? Sorry…I know you were…just up…”

  “Oh, no, no, it’s okay,” Angela insisted, climbing nimbly out of bed and getting some clean blankets out from the chest underneath the window. “One more?” she asked when Vince brought the blanket up above his shoulder and shivered again. He nodded. Angela added another, heavier blanket. “What was the other thing you needed?” she asked before getting back into bed.

  “I wanna…talk to your…parents tomorrow…Do you think…they could come?” Vince asked. He finally felt the morphine taking full effect. The word ‘drowsy’ no longer came close to how he felt.

  “Of course. I’ll call them in the morning. Do you want me to call Pastor Fenwick?”

  “Please. I meant to earlier…tonight just got crazy,” Vince breathed, his eyes fluttering shut in the dark. “I love you…you know that?”

  He could hear the despondency in her voice. “I do. And I love you. Can I say something?”

  “Better hurry,” Vince joked.

  Angela took a moment to gather herself. Vince wondered if she had begun to cry, so he peeled his eyes open. He couldn’t see a thing in the dark anyway, but when she spoke, it became apparent that she had simply been looking for a way to phrase her thoughts. “I keep on…worrying that you’ll…slip away in the night before we expect it.” Now she choked and sniffled. “Can you let me know if you think there’s a good chance you won’t make it—” Angela didn’t need to finish her sentence, which was just as well, because she couldn’t.

  “Of course…I’ll let you know…but tonight…I think I’m fine…just need sleep.” His hand crept to her waist and rested there. “C’mere, baby,” he muttered, urging her closer. Though he didn’t know if he could handle Angela sobbing right now, he still wished she would. “I love you…so much…” he whispered against her quivering lips before pressing his own against them. “And if I feel like…it’s time…I will tell you…I promise…”

  —

  Vince got the best rest he’d had in a few nights now that he had a steady stream of medication flowing through his veins. Angela hardly slept a wink. A raging headache brought on by secretive weeping in the recliner left her nearly incapacitated, but if Vince was the world’s worst patient, she was the second worst. She politely declined Mitch’s recommendation that she take something for her headache when he saw her at the coffee pot.

  “Did you sleep at all?” Mitch asked.

  Angela dumped some sugar into her coffee and shrugged. “Maybe a little. Not enough, but…please don’t tell him this…I have this fear that he’ll wake up having a hard time breathing or something, and I won’t wake up in time to help him. I just…I can’t fall asleep for very long. My brain constantly keeps waking me up.”

  “You’re never gonna sleep if you keep thinking like that.”

  “Fine by me,” Angela said shortly. “I can’t risk that happening. Besides, it’s not like I can keep myself from thinking it.”

  “Once he wakes up, say good morning, and then I’ll stay with him so you can sleep,” Mitch suggested. “I promise I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

  Angela shook her head before taking a cautious sip of her coffee. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t imagine sleeping while he’s awake.”

  “Then go to sleep now. Put down the coffee. I’ll come get you when he wakes up.”

  “It’s okay, I’m up now,” Angela said with a fleeting grin.

  “You’re more difficult than my brother. Seriously. You could take a quick shower while he’s still asleep.” Mitch held his hands up at Angela’s challenging glare. “Hey, you did puke on your hair last night. That’s my only reasoning.”

  Angela turned and rolled her eyes, then set her coffee down. “My parents are probably coming over soon. Once I call them, anyway. Then our pastor. I suppose I could be presentable.”

  “That’s all I ask,” Mitch said lightly.

  Angela was showered, dressed, groomed, and had called her parents before Vince’s eyes opened. She spent the next couple of hours watching some mindless television with Vince and Mitch in the bedroom, Vince needing to save his voice for the rest of the day. He drifted in and out of sleep until Angela’s parents arrived, just as clueless as she was as to why Vince wanted to see them.

  “It’s not as bad…as it looks,” Vince said to his in-laws once the three of them were alone. They hadn’t seen him in almost two weeks, and he had lost enough weight since then to cause alarm in that department as well. “It just takes a little…while for me to…say what I need to…say.” The Hawkinses waited patiently, though still with unsettled countenances. “Sorry…”

  “Take all the time you need,” George said. “We’re listening.”

  Vince hadn’t put the words together in his head yet. He’d been too sleepy and out of sorts the night before, and this morning he had finally been able to enjoy Angela and Mitch’s company a little. He knew vaguely what he needed to say, though. It involved admitting to himself that the resolve that Harry had instilled in him the night before had crumbled to the ground.

  “What I’m about to…say to you…it might not make sense…not all together…but it is the truth. I love Angela…more than I could ever…put into words.” He teared up at the sight of his mother-in-law doing so. “I never would’ve…made it this far without her…Please know that you’ve…raised a wonderful daughter…who deserves…a lot better than what I’ve put her through.”

  He let Ruth take his hand even though it made him slightly uncomfortable. That word was an understatement anymore, anyway. He continued.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, finally choking on his words instead of running out of breath. “As much as I love her…as much as I can’t picture…the last six months without her by my side…if I could rewind time…I wouldn’t have done this. Starting a relationship…was bad enough…but letting it get this far…getting married, having her take my name, having her feel…responsible for my son, having her leave work, having her watching while…I waste away, having her take care of me…” Vince’s chin crinkled as he paused. “It wasn’t fair of me…I just want you to know…that I truly am sorry…for the mess I’ve created…”

  “Now, son, you listen to me,” George said quietly but not timidly, reaching a hand in to join with Vince’s and Ruth’s before those pitiful words could hang in the air too long. “You didn’t do this. God did this. We don’t always understand His reasons, but He’s got them. I don’t mean to say that your suffering, you losing your son and your wife, that it’s all justified or that it’s fair. It breaks my heart. It really does. But hearing you blame yourself like this—hearing you say you’d give all these months back to my daughter if you could because you somehow don’t think you deserve that kind of love—that breaks my heart even more. It does the same to everyone around you. Nobody
blames you for anything. You didn’t make the wrong decision.”

  Ruth nodded in agreement, her thumb caressing the bony, veined back of Vince’s hand. She pressed her other hand to her nose before grabbing a tissue. “This has been hard on her, and it will continue to be so after you pass, but rest assured that she would never let you change your mind,” she said. “She would never let you take that time back. She and I haven’t always been what you would call close…but I’ve known about every man she’s ever been serious with. And Vince, all of them combined can’t hold a candle to you, and the way you’ve made her feel. I can see it in the way she looks at you, the way she talks about you. She loves you more than anything, I’m sure, and I think it would eat her up inside to know that you’re regretting this. So please, don’t. She wouldn’t want you to. Nobody would.”

  Though kind and heartfelt, Ruth’s words and her husband’s didn’t have even half the effect that Harry’s had. Vince had anticipated this conversation not being very productive in the way of clearing his conscience, but at least he felt as though his hands were clean when it came to Angela’s parents, given how incredulously they had reacted to his apology. He gave them a placating nod and a faltering grin. “You know…there are so many things…I wish I could be around for…and getting to know you…is one of them. I really wanted…that future…just as much as she did. I really hope that…one day she finds…someone who can give her that. Can you do one thing for me?”

  George and Ruth merely listened on.

  “Encourage her to keep looking…because as much as…as much as I hate the thought of…her with another man…it hurts even more to think…of her being alone for too long. So please, just…help her move past this.”

  Seemingly unwilling to argue any further with a dying man’s wishes, George and Ruth nodded in promise and gazed at him through misty eyes. They didn’t stay with Vince much longer and emerged from the bedroom looking pained enough to make their daughter worry.

  “What did he say to you?” she whispered, meeting them at the door.

  “Oh, just…how much he loves you,” Ruth said, kissing her daughter on the cheek.

  “Want us to stay?” George asked.

  “I’m just going to be sitting with Vince until our pastor gets here. He’s got a long day ahead of him. Charlie’s coming over tonight, too, and that always takes a lot out of him.”

  “Well, we’ll let you be with him, then. Let us know if you need anything,” Ruth said.

  —

  “Thank you for coming to see me,” Vince said once he and his pastor were alone.

  “Of course. It’s good to see your face. People were asking about you last Sunday, you know.”

  “They thought I already kicked the bucket?” Vince asked with a grin.

  “With all the trouble you went through with a cane one week and a walker the next, yes, some of them did assume that. May I ask how long your doctor says you have?”

  “It really could be…any day now,” Vince replied. His job had always given him a little more sense of his mortality than most other professions, but knowing he had only days left to live, if that, gave him aches no drug could alleviate. With that came a hint of fear that only sank deeper with every passing second.

  Everything and everyone he had known for the last forty-six years, swept away.

  “Can I ask you something?” Vince asked.

  “Well, I was under the impression that that’s why I was here. That, and to give you communion. Angela said you can’t eat or drink anymore, but I’m sure we can get creative. Anyway, ask away. If I don’t know the answer, I can look it up.” Pastor Fenwick patted a well-worn, bookmarked leather bible in his lap and set his coffee down on a tray table.

  “I keep imagining…the things I want to say to her the last time we talk…before I die…and I can’t imagine not apologizing to her…for letting this happen…for how much she’s hurting. How do you think she’d take that?”

  “Well, Vince, she’s your wife. You know her better than I do. How do you think she’d take it?”

  Vince rolled his eyes. “Not well, I guess.”

  The pastor took this into consideration for a long moment. “I don’t think God would ever discourage apologizing to those we love. But are you really still sorry for what you did—that is, letting her love you—or are you…concerned only with the consequences—the fact that she’s now hurting?”

  Five minutes ago, Vince would have answered “both” and readily so. But by something he could only call a miracle, he thought that perhaps he didn’t truly regret his relationship with Angela. He did regret the constant agony and sleepless nights she endured, of course. But he wasn’t so sure now that he would change his mind if he were to be given the chance to do things all over again. His change of heart seemed like an act of God. Though he still hadn’t experienced his Father’s presence like Angela had that one night, he supposed this came pretty close.

  “I suppose I’m really just…sorry that she’s hurting,” Vince admitted. “Hurting doesn’t even begin…to describe it. She doesn’t eat…she doesn’t sleep…and I have no idea—” Vince stopped to cough, unable to help it. “I have no idea…how long it’ll take her…to bounce back. I want to tell her that I’m…that I’m sorry for that.”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to tell her that,” Pastor Fenwick said simply. “You say you may only have a few days left. Use them. Tell her everything you need to tell her. Don’t leave her wondering if you were holding anything back. Make your peace.”

  “I will,” Vince said.

  “Can I ask you something now?” the pastor asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  Vince didn’t need to think. “Of the act of dying, not so much. I’m scared of being gone, though. No more…chances to say what I need to say…missing out on everything…not being with my family and friends…I’m scared of them not…knowing me anymore, even though at the same time, I hope they can just forget,” Vince was crying again and swiping his hands across his cheeks. “Yeah,” he confessed. “I am scared. And confused.”

  Pastor Fenwick flipped to a page in his bible. “I hope this verse isn’t too cliché to you, because I feel that it can be very helpful. It’s one of my favorites. It gets me through a bad day, a bad week, loss of loved ones…I hope it can do the same for you. In the words of King David: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me.”

  Sobs racked Vince’s failing body. It took him a few minutes to stop himself. “Thank you,” he finally sputtered. “For everything. I hate to think…where I’d be…if you hadn’t hunted me down…after church that day.”

  Pastor Fenwick shook his head, not tending to his running eyes. “You didn’t need me, Vince. You needed God. And I truly do believe that He would’ve found a way into your heart with or without me. So no, you didn’t need me. I think it was I that needed you, really.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Let’s just say that I may be old, but I’ve discovered that it’s never too late to start having a weekly date night with my wife and to get closer to our children and grandchildren. I’ve been at plenty of people’s deathbeds, more than I would like. But I’ve never said goodbye to someone who affected me so much.”

  “Well, not that I…set out to teach my pastor…any sort of lesson…but I’m glad to be of service.”

  Pastor Fenwick gave Vince his final communion, letting a tiny piece of bread dissolve in his mouth and having come equipped with a small sponge to drop the wine on his tongue. He stayed to talk a while longer, but finally rose to leave when Vince’s eyes started to flutter closed. “I know it hurts right now, to leave the ones you love so dearly,” he said, getting Vince’s eyes to snap open again. “But you’ll be in the Lord’s arms soon. And there’s no better place to be.”