Page 78 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
“I’m sure this is a big change for your family, but I assure you that Sunrise Pointe is a perfectly adequate facility to tend to your mother’s needs,” he tells me.
I know that admitting my mother to a nursing home should quell the worries blizzarding inside me, but it doesn’t. What if the one day I don’t visit her is the day she passes? What if she dies all alone, without me or Teague by her bedside?
My leg shakes underneath his desk, slamming against the surface of my hard, plastic chair. It feels like a bucket of ice water has been thrown on me, soaking me all the way to the bone. This will be her new life now. This will be Teague’s and my new life now. Fuck.
Will Teague hate me forever? Will Teague blamemefor letting her go? I already blame myself, but that’s a responsibility I can bear. Having Teague blame me is something I won’t survive.
Doctor Grandfield slides a pamphlet across his desk to me, and even his nails are perfectly filed. “Here’s a pamphlet with more information. It includes a lot of the benefits, servicesprovided, frequently asked questions, and most importantly, the cost of it all,” he recites like he’s giving a presentation.
The cost. Oh my God. I haven’t even thought about the cost.
I robotically flip through the pamphlet, quickly passing the exaggerated smiles and the outrageously grandiose architecture until I make it to the small cost section at the very end…that boasts an unattainable four thousand dollars per month. While my mother does have Medi-Cal, the nursing facilities that take that type of insurance aren’t the best in their treatment. The only way I’d feel comfortable moving my mom into a nursing facility is if it’s a good one.
I can’t afford this, even with the extra cash from Gage’s and my arrangement. How am I going to make enough money in a short amount of time to give my mother the care she deserves? And that’s permonth. My salary is only enough to keep me and Teague afloat, and it just barely helps with my mom’s medication.
I don’t know what to say. All I do is stare down at that intimidating number, each fume of breath harder to expel than the last one. If I can’t afford it, I’ll fail my mother.I refuse to do that. I’ll get two more jobs. I’ll sell whatever I can to make money. But that can only help me so much in the beginning, and then the tiring cycle continues each month.
And what about Teague? If I throw myself back into my work (more than I already do), I’ll become even more absent in his life. I made a promise to myself that I would start being there for him more. The only way for this to work is for me to…destroy myself.
My belly grumbles nervously, and a hunk of acid and food jet up my throat, filling my mouth until I’m forced to swallow it down. I’m going to be sick.
“Can I…can I think about it?” I lie, trying to conceal the urgency in my tone, needing to get the hell out of here before myday becomes even worse—and before I makehisday a lot worse. I’m already up and out of my chair, the chair legs screeching against the uncarpeted floors as I scramble for the pamphlet on the table.
The minute I tuck it under my arm, I sprint out of that windowless enclosure, not caring to listen to whatever advice he’s throwing over my shoulder. I take a secluded set of stairs all the way down to the first floor, and once I’m spit out through the swinging front doors, I find the nearest trashcan and lose the contents of my lunch inside it.
I’m not sure how much time passes as everything gushes out of me in one thick torrent, but it’s long enough for me to listen to a lovely soundtrack of thirty dollars-worth of groceries splattering over already-rotten food.
Maybe I’m too drained to freak out, or maybe it’s because I’d recognize the feel of those hands anywhere, but someone starts to rub circles over my back. The air shifts, giving way to a warmth unparalleled by the sun itself, and I know for a fact that Gage is the person right behind me. I feel my hair get swept back from my face as my loud and definitely indiscreet retching continues, having to sit with the vile taste of liquidized food on my tongue while my body rejects everything I ate in the last twenty-four hours.
“You’re okay, Cali. I’m right here. Get it all out.”
When the nausea passes, I’m forced to overcome my embarrassment. I lift my head up, wipe my sleeve over my vomit-slicked lips, and try to keep some distance between me and Gage because my breath undoubtedly reeks.
We speak at the same time, in twoverydifferent tones.
“Did you follow me here?” I ask.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Gage, surprisingly, looks just as embarrassed as I do, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Um, Teague told me you werespeaking with your mother’s doctor today. I just…I know you didn’t invite me, but I wanted to come in case you needed the support.”
In any other universe, I’d be mad at him for following me to something so personal. But I’m not. I mean, he was there in the hospital with me while we waited for my mother’s results. I don’t know why I didn’t invite Gage. I guess I just felt like this wasn’t his problem. Not to mention that I’m used to doing things on my own.
Even with the beating sun out, gales of wind slip through greasy strands of my hair, whipping them across my pale and sweaty face. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any saliva in my mouth anymore, but I don’t say anything.
Gage takes a step toward me. “I’m going to ask you again, Cali. Are you okay?”
I take a step backward, resting one hand over my belly to try and calm the inner turmoil. “I’m fine.” My burning eyes simmer with post-puke tears, and even though my arms are protected by my flimsy jacket, goose bumps race up and down them.
I can tell he wants to say,No, you’re not, but he doesn’t.
“Can we go talk somewhere?” he proposes, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, respecting the distance I’ve set between us.
Talking is the last thing I want to do right now, but what other option do I have?
“Okay,” I concede, still clinging to the now-crumpled pamphlet in my other hand and wishing that I had brought my purse with me—or at least a pack of gum.
I knowI already look like shit, so I choose a very shaded bench for me and Gage to sit on, hoping he doesn’t look too closely at me.
