“Yeah, it was easy.”
“Or maybe you just applied yourself.”
Trevor shrugged it off, but in his eyes Julie could see he agreed. Her son had so much potential. Getting him to do the required work continued to be the major obstacle.
Julie glanced at Trevor’s agenda, which detailed the homework and projects due in the coming weeks. It should have been Trevor’s responsibility to plan and complete all his assignments on schedule, but until he got back on track, Julie felt justified hovering in that helicopter-parent way.
“You’re all set with To Kill a Mockingbird?” Julie asked.
Trevor’s color drained. He rose quickly from the couch and nearly punted poor Winston like he was a soccer ball.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
Trevor did not answer. But she heard the sounds of him rummaging through his backpack. Trevor came storming back into the living room on the verge of tears.
“Everything all right?”
“That stupid book is at Dad’s, and so is my English folder.”
Julie checked the time. “That’s no problem. We can get it out of the library. Or we’ll take a drive to the store.”
“My essay is at Dad’s!” Trevor said. His shoulders slumped and his face crumpled.
“I’ll just call your-” Julie stopped herself when she remembered that Paul had left town for the night.
“The essay is due tomorrow, and now I’m going to get an F and then you won’t let me play soccer.”
“Take it easy. Relax. We can tell your teacher. She’ll understand, given everything that’s going on. It’s not going to be a problem.”
The logic appeared lost on him. “You’re gonna make me quit the soccer team. That’s what you said if I got an F.”
“No. No, I’m not.”
“Any F and you’re off the team. School is more important.”
“This is an exception.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t have to keep track of my stuff. Between here and Dad’s, I’m never just in one place.” The tears that had been threatening began to leak out.
Julie understood that Trevor’s frustration went far beyond this one English assignment. Behind it all-the fight in school, the falling grades, the incomplete homework-lay sorrow.
“Come, sit down,” Julie said, patting the sofa.
Trevor remained standing, arms locked across his chest. Winston chose that moment to come scuttling by. He hit a wall, redirected, and was on his way once more. But the incident proved amusing enough to get a slip of a smile from Trevor.
“Honey, I get it,” Julie said. “It’s not easy having to jump around between here and Dad’s.”
“And now it’s just going to be worse.”
“Worse how?”
“Sam.”
“Oh.”
“You’re not going to still marry him, are you?”
“Trevor!” Julie understood that kids could be direct to the point of being crass, but Trevor’s comment had crossed a line.
“I’m sorry. I just mean-I like Sam. I think he’s a really nice guy, and he’s been great to me. You know? But think about what it would be like for me if you two were married and he was like, living here. He can’t move his arms or his legs. He can’t do anything for himself.”
“For right now. He can get better.”
The look Trevor gave his mother said he did not believe it. Deep down, going to that place she hated to go, Julie had to admit she felt the same.
“Him being here, with us… it would change everything.”
Julie took a moment to collect her thoughts. Her throat had gone dry, which made it hard to speak. “I understand your feelings, here. Honestly, I do. Here’s my promise to you. We’re going to take this one day at a time. I don’t want you to worry. You have enough on your plate.”
“I just don’t see why you can’t fix it with Dad,” he said.
“Fix it how?”
“I saw how you were with him at the hospital. You were close.”
“And?”
“Why can’t Dad just come live here again?”
And there it was. The real issue flushed out into the open where it belonged.
After the divorce, it had not taken Julie long to scrub the apartment of any traces of Paul. His artwork had been stripped from the walls, and his trinkets and favorite dishes took up shelf space in his new home now. This was her home and Trevor’s home. No matter what happened with Sam, she would never live with Paul again. In her son’s eyes, though, it remained a distant possibility.
“Come sit.”
Trevor finally obliged and Julie pulled him in close.
“Your dad and I tried very hard,” she said. “But we just couldn’t make it work. I do like your father. He means well, and we’re friends. Sometimes I want to slug some sense into him, sure, but I know how much he loves you. He’d do anything for you. But no matter what, your father and I aren’t getting back together.”
“Well, it sucks for me.”
“Language, please.”
“It stinks,” Trevor said with some bite. “I can’t keep track of my stuff. I don’t even know when I’m supposed to be at Dad’s and when I’m supposed to be here.”
“This week has been hard on us all. It’ll get easier. I promise.”
“Yeah, but by then I’ll have failed my other courses.”
“Don’t be dramatic. We’ll deal with this English paper. Just take it easy on me right now. I’m going through an awful lot, and I need your support. Can I count on you?”
Trevor shrugged and said, “I guess.”
Winston came back into view, ball spinning. Trevor picked him up. “I should put him back.”
“When things get settled, we’ll look at the schedule with your dad. Maybe we can simplify it. I don’t know. And I’ll e-mail your teacher after dinner about the essay. Okay? Now go wash up.”
“Sounds good, Mom.”
Trevor and Winston headed off.
“Trevor?”
He turned back around.
“I love you,” she said.
“Love you too, Mom.”
No pause at all from Trevor, no need to collect his thoughts. It was how he felt about his mother. Julie’s heart swelled. She had made a vow after Sam’s accident to say those three simple words to her son every chance she got.
CHAPTER 16
“Kill me, Julie. Please help me die.”
Sam’s anguished plea tore at Julie’s heart. Fresh flowers filled the stark ICU cubicle with bright colors that failed to offset Sam’s dark mood. He slept most of the day away, with Julie at his bedside every moment she got.
“You don’t mean it. It’s hard now, but it will get better.” Julie entwined her delicate fingers around Sam’s and gave his hand a slight squeeze.
Sam could not squeeze back. Nor could he touch Julie’s face, or stand, or run, or feed himself, or do any of the countless things he used to do before the accident.
The gentle rise and fall of Sam’s chest, the passing of his tongue across dried lips, the blinking of his eyes were the only indications he could move his body at all. The face that had been so full of life was sunken, his skin pulled close to the bone, dark circles marking the pain in his eyes. September became October, and in the weeks since the accident, Sam seemed to have aged a decade. With his beard shaved, Julie could better see how his face had lost its luster.
This was the new normal. Today was just another day in Sam’s ongoing care in the ICU. It had been sixteen days since Sam fully regained consciousness and there were no major crises, no life-or-death medical procedures. All he had done on this day and the day before was to lie in his hospital bed, hooked to wires and tubes like a human marionette.
“Please, Julie. I can’t live like this.”
How many times had he asked to die? Julie had lost count, but it had started the moment Sam could speak again. Nothing Julie said could shake his despair. She understood it, felt it in her core.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she said. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I’ve called someone who can help.”