The Time Until (5 page)

15 Years Ago (Age 5):
 
October

I’m going to meet Sam’s mother for the first
time today. Emily.
 
She’s in the kitchen
making something.
 
It’s too late for
lunch and too early for dinner.

Is it snacks?

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing I’ve
ever seen?” Emily Cohn just about attacks me.
 
Sam stands back and smiles. I think she’s holding a laugh back at my
panicked face – in fact, I see her shoulders shake and know she is.
 
Emily has a very strong bear hug.

She puts me down, gets very serious, and points
her finger at me, which actually scares me more than the sudden attack.

“I better not ever hear about you placing a bun
in my little girl’s oven,” she scolds.

Huh?!

I’m really confused.
 
What does she mean “bun in her oven”?
 
I glance over at the oven and then at
Sam.
 
She looks almost as confused as I
feel.
 
I look back to Mrs. Cohn.

“Isn’t that what they’re made for?” is all I
can think of to say.
 
Emily looks at me
for a very uncomfortable minute and then bursts into laughter.
 
She’s just about rolling on the floor.
 
I look at Sam to help me figure out what’s
going on and she just shrugs her shoulders.
 
Eventually, her mom stops laughing and places a hand on my shoulder.

“You are a great kid and I’d be glad if it’s
you that places that bun.”

“T-Thank you,” I say even more confused than
before.
 
I have come to the conclusion
that Emily is crazy, or she has no idea what she’s talking about.
 
Emily smiles brightly and I notice that she
has the same smile that Sam does.

Present Day

It’s still dark when I wake from my dream.
 
I hate dreaming about Emily, it really messed
Sam up when she left.

Thinking about Sam makes me want to see her.

Taking a quick look at the door, I notice that
none of the nurses are watching me.
 
Good.
 
I slowly scoot closer to
the edge of the bed.
 
I don’t want to
make any noise that will alert them to what I’m doing.

Reaching the edge of the bed, I roll to my stomach
— holding my IV hand to the bag side to keep it from pulling — and I slide
off.
 
Testing the strength of my legs, I
slowly stand up, holding onto the bed for support.

Good, they seem to be holding my weight.

Thinking I’m good was a mistake.
 
As soon as I try to take a step, my legs
collapse and I hit the floor, hard.
 
Everything is black.

I slowly come back to consciousness in my
bed.
 
A nurse is fussing around me as I
groan from a headache that feels like my head is a balloon about to pop.
 
She shoots me the dreaded look of
disapproval.
 
I know the look well, my
mother wears it better than the nurse does, but it’s not nearly as effective as
it is right now.

I feel like crap.

“You shouldn’t try that again, Alan,” she tells
me. “You pulled the IV out and almost gave yourself another concussion.” I can
feel that much.
 
The fall must have done
something to me, because I can feel tears start to form in my eyes.
 
The nurse also notices it.

“Are you in pain?” she asks me.
 
I blink back the tears and swallow the lump
in my throat.

“I just want to see her,” I whimper. “I
need
to see her.
 
I’m going crazy thinking about it.”

The nurse looks at me for a moment.
 
What is she thinking about?
 
Does she think I’m as pathetic as I feel?

“Tell you what,” she sighs, “you stay in bed until
I get in tomorrow and I’ll see if I can get you permission to take a wheelchair
up to see her.” She looks at me.
 
“We got
a deal?”

Can I do
that? Hell yeah I can.

“I can do that.
 
It’s a deal,” I agree.
 
She beams
a brilliant smile at me.
 
She’s a pretty
little thing, nothing on Sam, but still pretty.

“Great.
 
Now
get some sleep.” She starts to help me with the blankets. “We gave you some
more medication so you should sleep for a while longer.”
 
I thank her as she leaves the room.

I start thinking about the escape attempt I just
tried.
 
My body stopped working just as I
thought I was home free.
 
My body is even
too weak to get out of bed.
 
I hate the
feeling of weakness.
 
Sam hasn’t called
me a pansy since we were thirteen.
 
I
worked hard to strike that stigma from my name.

Well, I feel like a pansy right now.

The swell in my chest bursts into a full-fledged
inferno. I reach over, grab the vase of flowers, and throw it against the wall
across the room.
 
The anger I feel
towards the driver of the truck that hit us, the anger at the doctors for keeping
me here, my anger at my parents for not telling me what’s happening with Sam,
and — most of all — my anger at myself for being this weak explodes into full
blown and unbridled rage.

Yes, that’s what this ball is…
Rage.

 
“GODDAMN
IT!” I scream at the top of my lungs, collapsing into angry sobs, as the glass
vase shatters, mimicking my feelings.

11 Years Ago (Age 9):
 
March

Sam and her mother have one day a week where
they spend the day together doing girl things.
 
Sam loves it, despite her being the biggest tomboy ever.
 
I usually have no idea what to do when she
has these days, but this time I
get
to go along.
 
Apparently, they’re just planning to go to a
movie and it was a movie Sam and I had talked about seeing together.
 
Emily agreed to allow me to see it too.

Sam and I sit next to each other and Emily sits
next to Sam as the movie starts.
 
Before
long I forget that Emily is here, Sam and I are having so much fun.

Suddenly, Emily starts coughing.

Nothing new there, but she doesn’t stop
coughing.
 
It’s a wet, scratchy cough
that sounds really bad.
 
Sam has tried
over and over again to get her mom to stop smoking — hiding her lighters and packs
of smokes or even going so far as to break all her cigarettes in half.
 
Emily gets mad at her for doing it, but never
really punishes her for it.

She’s still smoking.

I know it hurts Sam to see her mom like
this.
 
Ever since that health class about
the dangers of smoking, Sam has been on a crusade to save her mom from
death.
 
I feel so sorry for Sam and I
actually get really mad at Emily.
 
Why is
it so hard to stop smoking?

Doesn’t she know how much it hurts Sam?

Emily collapses to the floor, convulsing from
coughs, and Sam stops everything to jump to her.
 
I notice something in Emily’s hand.
 
The theater is still dark but I think I know
what it is.

Her palm is covered in blood.

She was just coughing into the same palm.

“Samantha.
 
I want you to be prepared baby girl.
 
Mom is not feeling well,” Nate explains to us.
 
It’s been a few days since the movie theater
incident and Emily has been in the hospital the entire time.
 
Sam reaches for my hand and, as I take it,
she squeezes.
 
All I can do is squeeze
back and Sam’s shoulders slack a bit, comforted by my presence.

Having me here makes
Sam feel better, which makes me feel good.

Sam nods her head and
drags me into the room.
 
Emily is
pale.
 
She requires a lot of oxygen, so
she has a breathing tube in her nostrils.
 
She’s been sick for a long time and told no one about it.
 
She didn’t even tell Nate, her husband.

Now it’s too late.

I heard the doctors
talking to Nate, stage four lung
cancer
.
 
They didn’t sound like that was a good thing.

I can tell that Sam
is angry as she walks up to her mother.
 
It’s hard to tell who she’s angrier with — herself or her mom.
 
I have a hunch she’s a lot angrier with
herself.

That’s the way Sam
is.

Emily stirs and
repositions herself in the bed as we get closer.
 
The anger on Sam’s
face
changes.
 
Now she’s angrier with her
mother.

“Hello, Sam,” Emily
coughs.
 
Sam barely flinches.

“Oh, Sammy, don’t be
that way.
 
You didn’t do this.” Emily
looks at her daughter with regret and compassion.
 
Sam’s anger flashes across her face.
 
It’s a bit scary how livid she looks.
 
She grips my hand tighter and I fight back a
grimace.

“You’re right,
Mother, it’s your fault.
 
If you had
stopped smoking when I told you to…” She never finishes and just breaks down
crying.
 
Emily places her hand on the
back of Sam’s head and strokes her hair.
 
Sam loses herself in grief and leaps into her arms, screaming and
sobbing as she lets out her pain and resentment on her mother’s chest.

I knew this would
happen eventually.
 
I’m surprised it
happened so fast.

“Stupid, Mom!
 
Stupid!
 
Stupid!” Her screaming slowly turns into sobbing and then
whimpering.
 
Emily softly strokes her
hair the entire time, comforting her.
 
I
feel the need to do something, so I place a hand on Sam’s back and wipe a tear
from her eye when she looks at me.

“I’ll wait outside,
Sam.” I turn to leave, but she grabs my hand and refuses to let me go, her face
buried in her mother’s chest.
 
I feel
like a comfort blanket at this point, but I don’t really care.
 
I like having Sam’s confidence.
 
I transition the death grip into a soothing
hold and stand there rubbing her back while she lets out her emotions.

After a long time,
Sam calms down and Emily asks me to take her outside.
 
She wants to talk to Nate for a minute.
 
I help Sam off the bed and Emily leans over
to whisper in her ear. “I love you, Piglet.”

Sam bites back a sob
from escaping and nods.
 
Emily looks at
me. “You take good care of my piglet,” she tells me, “she’s very special.”

I nod. “I know that,
Emily.
 
I’ve known that for a long time.”
Emily smiles at me and I warm at her praise.

I lead Sam to a bench
in the hall and crouch in front of her while she sits down.
 
Taking her hands, I cradle them in mine.
 
I want to console her, but I can’t think of
anything to say, or
do, that
will make her feel
better.
 
I finally just sit down next to
her and wrap her up in my arms.
 
She
doesn’t sob, but she whimpers.

Sam’s breathing starts
to slow and I know she’s fallen asleep.
 
All the emotions have been too much for her today.
 
Taking my jacket off, I place her head on it
and slip out to head back in the room.
 
I
have a bunch of questions for Emily.

Nate is cupping her
head in his hands, forehead to forehead.

“Baby, what am I
going to do?” he whispers barely loud enough for me to hear.
 
She smiles at him.

“I don’t think I can
do this.
 
Not alone.” I see Nate’s tears
come.
 
Emily smiles at him and places her
palm on his cheek, wiping the tears away with her thumb.

“You are the
strongest person I know, Nate.
 
If anyone
can raise our child by himself, it’s you.” A sliver of pain passes across her
face and her small smile falters.
 
Nate
shudders, I think at the thought of raising Sam without Emily around.
 
She grips both sides of Nate’s face with a
fierce look.

“Promise me
something, Nate.”

“Anything,
Em.
 
Name it and I’ll do it.” Her
sad smile comes back and she closes her eyes in silent pain.

“Don’t hold on to
me.” Nate inhales in surprise. “I want you to find someone that will love you
as much I have.” Nate is shaking his head.

“If you find this
person, I don’t want to be hanging over your head.
 
So don’t hold on.” I’m stunned. I would hate
it if Sam found someone else.
 
I can’t
imagine what is going through Emily’s head right now.
 
More tears break through and start to trail
down Nate’s face.

“Forget me if you
have to, but I want you to move on.” Tears are coming down both their faces and
she seems almost desperate.
 
It’s hard to
watch — these two adults crying and breaking apart — but I can’t get myself to
stop watching.

“Please, promise me,”
she’s almost in a panic. “Nate, if you love me at all, promise me you’ll move
on.” Her sobs are painful to hear.
 
Both
of their faces are drenched as Nate nods his head.

“Okay, Em, I will,”
Nate says. “It’ll destroy me, but I will.”

“For you,” he
finishes.
 
Emily looks relieved as she
closes her eyes again.

“Thank you, Nathan.
Thank you.” I leave the room to give them some privacy, already feeling like I
stayed too long.

Sam spends every day
at the hospital with her mother.
 
She
tells her about her day and all the things she’s done.
 
Her mother listens and laughs.
 
I sit in the room as silent support.

She seems happy
during these times with her mother.

Sam watches her
mother close her eyes and silently pass away two weeks later.