Waking Anastasia (38 page)

“Are you ready to see your Mom and sister?”

“I suppose.”

“Are you really saying goodbye?”

“Even if I see them both—and Jean-Marc—again, I’ll say goodbye this weekend. When my other grandmother was sick a few years ago, every time we saw each other we knew it might be the last time, so we made sure we always said our goodbyes. When she did eventually die, I’d made sure I said everything I wanted to. The last time I saw my dad I turned around as I was leaving his hospital room, wanting to go back and tell him I loved him, but I figured I’d just tell him the next time I saw him. He died three days later, before I could get back into town to see him. I’ll never forgive myself for that. Even though we flashed a few finger signs at each other, Ana and I didn’t really get to say goodbye, and that hurts. Rest assured that I’ll be saying goodbye to everyone before I go.”

He stared off toward the window, not really seeing anything but the square of morning light. “The thing about cancer is that they may not be able to say exactly when I’ll be done, but based on the rate of the disease’s progress and how I’m holding up, they’ll probably be able to give me a few days’ notice to at least make a few calls, kiss a few cheeks, and return a few hugs.”

Mika turned quickly away from Jerry, her shoulders shaking as she bawled. He put his mug down and slipped off the stool. As usual, he had no idea what to say so he just turned her around and pulled her close, leaning his head against hers and letting his own tears flow. He’d already wept for himself and for Ana, so his tears quickly ran dry. Mika soon regained control, too, and finished with sniffles. Jerry kissed the side of her head and whispered in her ear, “Yeah, I know.”

They pulled apart, giving a last squeeze to acknowledge the shared moment, then each found a sink, splashed water on their faces, and were towelled off and back to smiling when the street door buzzer sounded. Mika checked her watch. “Five minutes early.”

“Better than five late.” He buzzed the limo driver up.

“Are we ready?”

Jerry crossed himself like a lapsed Catholic checking his pockets. “Spectacles, testicles, wallet, and watch . . . yup. Good to go.” He also surreptitiously checked his pocket for his meds.

“You’re a goof.” Mika slipped into her coat, and then helped Jerry with his.

“Yeah, tell that to my mother. She thinks I’m a wandering wastrel avoiding his mother at all costs.”

“She’s pretty astute. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

“Well, brace yourself, because we’re heading into the storm of storms.”

They stepped out of the loft just as the trim-moustached, retired-military-looking limo driver arrived on the landing. “Morning, folks. I’m Eldon. Any luggage?”

“Not yet, thanks, Eldon. We’re picking my family at the airport so I’m sure there’ll be bags then.”

“Excellent. Follow me, then, please Mr. Powell,” and Eldon led the way down the stairs and out to the dark blue stretch limo that looked almost black under the overcast sky.

Once they were settled in, Jerry closed his eyes to ward off a threatening headache.

“You okay, Jerr?”

“Just a little head-thumper. Nothing I’m not used to, thanks.” He opened his eyes, smiled at Mika. She shifted to face him.

“So, is your mother really as bad as you say? She’s probably a dear sweet lady with a heart of gold.”

“She is and does.” The limo was warm so he unzipped his coat. “But she has also spent the better part of my life telling me that I’m doing it all wrong.”

“Everything?”

“Pretty much. I think she had seriously high hopes for me to become a doctor or lawyer like some of her friends’ sons, but I chose the uncertain, low-paying world of radio. I got to be a professional goofball and she can’t see that loving what I do is more important than filling my bank account. Dad died of a heart attack working a stressful sales job for a disrespectful employer, trying to give us a terrific life. He did a great job, too, but it killed him. I swore I’d never work at something I hated so much that it’d stress me to death. Even though the pay was low in the beginning, and the hours are absolutely abusive, I love radio. I’m even going to try and talk Manny into letting me sub in for the gang periodically, to keep my hand in. I love music, people, and laughter, and life is best when all three are combined.”

“Have you ever told your mother that?”

“I tried, just after graduation, but I was young, Dad had just died, she had to go back to school to upgrade her computer skills now that she was back in the workforce, and I probably didn’t articulate it too well. I was pretty angry back then. Mostly at Dad, for leaving, but also at her for, I don’t know . . . probably for not finding a way we could save him. That sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

“It makes sense to me. I’m angry as hell that you’re sick and I can’t just align your chakras and heal you. Nothing I have been trained to do as a nurse or a Reiki Master is of any use right now, and I want to scream.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

They slipped into silence, each looking out a window as the city slipped past and the limo left the core, driving to the airport in Sydney, north of Victoria.

ELDON PULLED UP
in front of the small, fog-enshrouded terminal with twenty minutes to spare. He opened the door for Mika and Jerry, then indicated a small parking lot a short distance away, barely visible through the fog. “Folks, you both head inside where it’s warm and dry, and I’ll park Big Blue then follow you in. Once your family arrives I’ll bring the luggage out to the curb, go get the car, and swing around to pick everyone up. It sounds convoluted, but it’s a small airport, and they need this area kept clear for the shuttle buses.”

Jerry nodded. “That sounds great, Eldon. We’ll go find some seats. Can we get you a coffee? I desperately need one myself.” He was feeling a bit light-headed.

“Thank you, sir, but I have a fresh thermos in the car with my wife’s special vanilla-hazelnut brew. I appreciate the offer, though. Go on in and get settled. I’ll join you shortly.”

“See you inside, then.” Mika linked her arm through Jerry’s and led him in through the sliding glass doors.

It was almost as warm inside the airport as it was in the limo, so they shrugged out of their coats and looked for a Starbucks, Tim Hortons, or some sort of café.

“It’s about time, Jeremy.” The voice came from off to their left. Jerry spun at the sound but wobbled a bit before Mika steadied him.

“Mom?”

Jane Powell approached him with her own coat over her arm, and Carole and Jean-Marc behind, with a cart loaded with their luggage. “Didn’t you double check our arrival time? We caught a tailwind or something and got here ten minutes ago. All you had to do was make a simple phone call and we wouldn’t have had to stand here waiting.”

Carole stepped around her mother and went straight into open Jerry’s arms. “I promised I wouldn’t cry in public, big brother.”

“You lied, little sister.”

“Jerk.”

“Brat.” He kissed her cheek and let her go. Jean-Marc stepped up and Jerry didn’t hesitate to take him into a bear hug as well. Jean-Marc and Carole had been together long enough for Jerry to consider him his brother. “
Mon
chum.
Ça va
?”

“
Ça va bien. Et toi
?”

“
Comme si, comme ça
. Cancer suck-la.”

“
Oui. Beaucoup de merde
.” Lots of shit.

They stepped out of the hug, managing only half smiles.

“Jeremy, are you going to introduce us to your friend?” Jane nodded at Mika.

“Hmm?” His concentration slipped and the terminal wavered for a moment. “Um. Sorry. Of course. Mom, Carole,
et
Jean-Marc, this is my assistant and dear friend, Mika. Mika, this is my fam.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Powell. Jerry has—”

Jerry abruptly leaned into Mika, interrupting her. “Oops. Sorry.”

His mother suddenly sobbed, her hand going to her mouth and her eyes filling with tears. “It’s true. You’re . . . my . . . oh,
shit
.”

“MOM?!” Carole and Jerry were both stunned. Jerry almost laughed, but the sombre situation robbed the moment of its humour. “Mom, the last time I heard you swear was . . .
never
.” He held out his arms for her and without another word, dirty or otherwise, tiny Jane Powell gave her son the hug of their lifetimes. Mika stood silently behind Jerry, her hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Yeah, it’s true.” He led his Mom over to a bench and sat down beside her. “Like I said before, I’m dying. We’re not giving up, the doctors will do what they can, but it ain’t lookin’ good.”

“Isn’t.”

“What?”

“It
isn’t
looking good.” She caught herself, wiped her eyes with a tissue that seemed to appear out of a pocket. “I’m sorry. It’s an old habit.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I finally get it. You take your job seriously.”

“My
job
?”

“Being my mother. You’ve always just wanted what’s best for me, even when I was being a goofball. I’m sorry I’ve given you such a hard time for so long.”

“No,
I’m
sorry. I should have encouraged you be who you wanted to be, and just let you grow up without all my poking and prodding.”

“As someone recently pointed out to me, that poking and prodding was just your way of showing that you love me. I get it. Thank you.”

“Well, of course I love you. I’m your mother. That’s just the silliest . . .” She stopped mid-sentence and looked at Jerry over her glasses as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re . . . welcome. Thank
you
.”

“For what? I’m a pain in the ass. Just ask Mika. She’s all ready to quit, after only a few weeks of my bullshit.”

Jane looked at Mika, who was shaking her head and smiling, then looked back to Jerry. “Thank you for being my son. For making me so proud. You’re silly and stubborn and have moved too far away from me, but you’ve always had the biggest heart of anyone I know, except your father. The two of you . . .” She trailed off, dabbing at her damp eyes again. Jerry hugged her with one arm and the other three sniffed back their own tears.

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Powell.” Eldon stood to one side. “I’m guessing that the flight arrived early. I’ll go get the limo, sir. I’ll hurry, because the shuttle bus is due out front at any minute, and there’s no room for both of us.”

“Thank you, Eldon. That’d be great. We’ll be right out.” Eldon jogged off at a brisk pace.

Jane stood up quickly. “Jerry, you didn’t hire a limo, did you? That was just silly.” She followed after Eldon. “Excuse me, sir, we don’t . . .” But the driver was already out the doors. She followed him, and the others scrambled to catch up, Jean-Marc bringing up the rear with the cartload of luggage. When the doors slid open for Jane, Jerry was right behind her, but Eldon was disappearing into the fog, on his way to Big Blue. Jane waved at him. “Sir, we don’t need a limousine, we’ll just take a taxi—”

Jerry heard the bus before he saw it. In slow motion, like a glass-faced behemoth, it parted the fog and appeared just as Jane reached the curb, intent on getting Eldon’s attention. “MOM!” He lunged for her, got a hold of her arm and pulled her back to safety, but he couldn’t reverse his own forward motion and tripped over his own feet, directly into the path of the shuttle bus. He thought he heard screams, but they were cut off by immense pain on the left side of his head, just before everything went black.

AS INTENSE AS
it was, the pain only lasted for a blinding lightning-flash of a moment, which Jerry thought was more than a little odd. It vanished as quickly as it hit him, literally. He concentrated for a moment, then realized that his headache was gone, too. There wasn’t even the faint buzz of threatening pressure he’d grown accustomed to over the last year or two. There was just quiet.

“Are you simply going to lie there in the road, my Love, or will you get up so that I can finally introduce you to my family?”

“
Shvibzik
?”

“That’s
Grand Duchess
Shvibzik to
you
, sir.” Ana giggled, and Jerry laughed.

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Dr. Jennifer Rahn for helping me to understand brain cancer and its treatment. Any mistakes in the story are my own, not hers.

Cheryl Hingley, Katherine Salter, Jennifer Rahn, Adrienne Greenwood-Cruise, and Shannon Allen, for all of the editing, critiquing, and butt-kicking.

Tony King, for insights into the world of radio broadcasting.

Jack Whyte & the 2012 Jack Whyte Workshop participants for the in-depth critiques and encouragement when I asked “Do you think this story is worth finishing?”.