Sasha (Mixed Drinks #1) (22 page)

“I know it’s scary honey, but we are on the way right now. The police and ambulance are also on their way over to help.” I try to assure her.

“Ok.” She says, still crying.

Something occurs to me then. “Is the door unlocked?”

“I think so. I can look.”

“Ok, good. Go check and then go back by Grandma,” I calmly instruct her.

Bash is driving so fast, I’m scared to look at the speedometer. It isn’t until I see the red and blue lights behind us that I actually take a look. Ninety-six miles per hour.
Bash is fucked
. Bash starts to slow down to pull over, but then the squad car pulls past us, waving at us to follow
. It’s Jesse, thank god
! The normally thirty minute drive only take us about fifteen.

When we arrive at the house, the ambulance is already there and the squad car is pulling up. As we all jump out and run for the door, Bash gives Jesse a nod of thanks.

Inside, Jean is already on the gurney, with an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.
Thank god she is alive
. As Bash starts talking to the paramedics, Emma runs to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She is still crying. I bend down to her and pull her into my arms, trying by best to comfort her. It melts my heart to see her in so much pain, pain that I cannot take away.

Bash finally walks over and tells us that they are taking Jean to the hospital now, and that we should follow them in the car. Then he turns to Jesse. I see him give him a handshake and a hug. They talk for a few moments, and Jesse leaves as well.

When we arrive at the hospital, Jean’s oncologist is there, talking to the ER doctor. We pace back and forth in the waiting room, growing desperate for some answers. Emma is still glued to my side. When the doctors finally come over, they don’t look hopeful.

“Sebastian Edwards?” one of them asks.

“Yes, that’s me,” he replies.

“I’m Dr. Turner, Jean’s oncologist. Jean’s condition has stabilized, however I would like to do an MRI on her to see how far the cancer has metastasized. We should have a better idea of what happened after that,” he tells us.

“Whatever you need to do, do it.”

“We will get her in as soon as possible. We are also going to admit her for observation. You are welcome to wait here until she is assigned a room,” he adds

The next few hours seems like days.
Weeks, even
. I have no idea how people do this. It is enough to drive a person crazy. The outdated decor of the waiting room taunts you, and the magazines that are two months old are tattered and missing pages, no doubt from the hours of people just distractedly flipping the pages, not actually reading anything inside.

Emma finally falls asleep with her head on my lap, after Bash took her for a walk and told her that Grandma’s cancer had come back and that she was really sick. After crying for about an hour, she had relaxed enough to drift off to sleep.

A few more hours of waiting came and went before Dr. Turner finally returned with the MRI results. The prognosis was not good. The cancer had metastasized to her lungs. That is what caused her to cough blood this morning. He says that it has advanced rapidly. He offered his sympathy to us, and suggested that we meet with a hospice caregiver, as she doesn’t have much time left.

After the doctor left, Bash paces a few times finally sitting on a chair across from me. I have no idea what to say.
What could I do?
It was only a matter of time now. I wanted to hold him and tell him that everything will be ok, but right now, I imagine that is the last thing he wants to hear. Plus, I’ve still got Emma in my lap.

The next few days went by like a blur. Getting Jean home from the hospital, getting her settled with a hospice nurse, and figuring out who would stay with her at night.

I offered to stay at Bash’s with Emma, to allow him to take care of Jean. Jesse also offered to help out as much as he could. He would be back and forth between here and Minneapolis, setting up his big move. He wouldn’t be able to do a lot, but offered to do what he could.

Jean seemed to get worse every day. I brought Emma over to the house when Bash would call and say that she was awake and alert enough for visitors. Wayne and Cici were very helpful too, offering to cover my shifts at the bar if I ever needed to go in a hurry, and they gave me the time off that I needed to care for Emma. Megan and Sadie also helped by keeping Bash’s refrigerator well stocked and the house clean and tidy. I don’t know how much help I would have been to Bash if I didn’t have them.

As the next two weeks went by, I could see that Bash was getting more and more exhausted. When he was at Jean’s he didn’t want to sleep. He was scared that something would happen to her and he wouldn’t wake up, so he only averaged about four hours of sleep a night.

I offered to stay with that night, so that he could actually get some sleep. He tried to tell me that I didn’t have to and that it was not my responsibility. However, I had a secret weapon that he couldn’t refuse.
Emma.
I told him that Emma really wanted to have him there tonight. Not really a lie, since each night she did ask if he was coming home.

That evening, we arrive at Jean’s house at about five o’clock. I speak briefly to the hospice nurse to get the day’s report. Jean had slept most of the day, as expected, and there were no change in her vitals. The nurse left after that, and I was alone with Jean.

On my way over, I had stopped at the store to pick up some magazines and madlibs. I figured I would need a good way to entertain myself for the evening.

After about an hour, I was bored. I called and talked to Megan, then Sadie, then played a few random games on my phone. By ten o’clock, I was starting to get restless. Jean hadn’t woken up at all, and I was just starting to think that maybe I should close my eyes for a little while, when I heard her making some noise.

I look over to see that she is waking up, and before I know it, she is alert and lucid.
Well, she seemed to be, based on the way she was looking around the room.

“Hi Jean, it’s Sasha. How is your pain?” I ask quietly.

“Oh fine dear, I’m high as a kite, I think.” she says in a whisper, trying to smirk.

“Do you need anything?” I ask.

“No, dear.” She pauses for a moment, “Well, actually, could you talk to me for a little while?” she asks me, still whispering.

I’m not sure what you are supposed to talk about when someone is laying in bed, knocking on death’s door. Somehow, most things that come to mind do not seem appropriate.

“Sure, what would you like to talk about?” I ask.

“You.” She says clearly.

“Me? There isn’t much to tell,” I giggle nervously.

“Tell me your story. I didn’t really get to know
you
these last months, just got to know who you are with Bash,” she says

“Ah, well, I’m not sure what you mean. I’m me, whether I’m with Bash or not,” I respond.

“That’s good, because I like her,” she smiles.

I’m guessing that the drugs are still working, because I’m not really sure what we are talking about. But if it makes her happy and comfortable, then I can just pretend that I have a clue.

“Emma adores you, you know that?” she continues. Her voice is getting a little louder, but she is still talking in a groggy tone.

“Well,
adore
might be a strong word. I think she has no choice but to put up with me, and she has resigned herself to that fact,” I say, adding a laugh to lighten my tone.

“Oh no dear, she adores you. Maybe not in the beginning, but she has really started to now. You are all she wants to talk about,” she tells me.

Doubtful
. “Jean, I think that morphine is really working for you,” I joke.

“I mean it, Sasha. Just yesterday, she asked me that when I’m gone and she lives with Bash permanently, if you would stay and be Bash’s wife, so you could all be a family.”

I’m not sure what to say to that.
Was she dreaming or hallucinating that conversation?
Or was Emma just saying those things out of grief or to make Jean feel better?

“I want you to be happy, and no matter what happens with you and Bash, I hope you will keep Emma in your life,” she mumbles as she starts to drift back to sleep. “You are such a wonderful young lady. Please tell Bash and Emma that I love them.” With those cryptic words, her eyelids flutter closed.

I start to sit back in the chair to ponder what Jean said to me, when all of a sudden, some of the gadgets attached to her started beeping. A few seconds later, the home line rings.

“This is Nurse Baker, I just got an automatic system notification that Jean’s CO2 stats are dropping,” she informs me when I answer.

“Um, I have no idea what that means, but one of these machines is beeping at me.” I say, beginning to panic.

“Sasha, this may be the end. I’m on my way. You should know that Jean has signed a DNR order, so I cannot perform any lifesaving procedures on her when I arrive,” she tells me right before I hear the phone click off.

I drop the phone and pick up my cell to call Jesse. I hope against hope that he is working tonight. When he answers, he can immediately sense that something is wrong.
I love him for that
. I tell him to hurry, and that he needs to pick up Bash and get him over here as fast as possible. Luckily, he was already on the south end of town, and is only a few minutes away from Bash’s house if he puts on the sirens.

Next, I call Bash. Twice. He answers the phone groggily after the second attempt, obviously struggling to wake up.

“Hello?” he says in a barely distinguishable voice.

“This is it, Bash. You need to get over here, she doesn’t have much time to wait. Jesse is on his way to pick you both up in his squad car!” I almost scream into the phone.

The line goes dead, and I rush to Jean’s side. I beg her to hold on for Bash and Emma.
They need to say goodbye
. Her breathing is growing shallower by the minute. I don’t know if they will make it in time. Tears are now running down my face, and I’m practically hyperventilating myself. “Just hold on Jean, please. Hold on.”

THE MORNING OF THE WAKE, I get up early to run to the store to get donuts. They are Emma’s favorite treat, and even though it’s not Sunday, I think it is a nice start what is sure to be a long day.

When I get back, Bash is up, wondering around the house like he’s not sure what to do. I open the donut box and pull out a bear claw, his favorite, and hand it to him. He smiles, sets it on the table, and pulls me into his arms, holding me tight.

“I love you. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here. I’m glad you were there with us when Jean passed on,” he says.

I smile and give him a kiss. Bash and Emma had made it to Jean’s house just in time to say their goodbyes and give her a kiss on the cheek before she took her final breath. It was a sad and beautiful thing. I told them Jean’s last words, and hoped they comforted them a little.

Emma gets up shortly after, already wearing the new black dress I had gotten for her yesterday, and the pink glittery Mary Janes I bought for her with my first blackmail payment.

She walks over to me with a brush and asks me to do her hair in a ponytail, because Grandma Jean said she always looks so pretty with her hair up so we could all see her face.