It’s hard to not be angry.
She’s sick again.
I’m angry because when it’s good, it’s all too easy to pretend everything is fine.
But then I wake up and she’s running a fever and shaking, curled into herself and clutching her stomach and moaning.
Wan, pale. She breathes shallowly, as if even breathing hurts.
“Mom?” she whimpers. “Wes, can you get my mom?”
“Yeah,” I choke out. “Yeah, I’ll get her.”
She grabs my hand with unexpected strength. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave. I’m scared.”
My eyes water, and my chest seizes. I don’t let go of her hand as I stretch across the bed to my bedside table and snag my phone, yank the charging cord out, and call her mother’s cell.
“Wes, hi,” she answers. “Is…is everything okay.”
“She’s asking for you,” I manage to get out.
“I’ll be right there.”
Click.
Less than a minute later, she’s bursting through my front door, out of breath and red-faced. “Jo?”
“In here,” I say.
I’m in a pair of running shorts and nothing else, and she’s still naked—I cover her with the sheet as her mother comes in.
Kneels at the side of the bed, hand hovering over Jo’s cheek as if to caress, but doesn’t touch. Knowing even a gentle touch will hurt.
“Jo,” she murmurs. “I’m here.”
“Make it stop, Mama,” Jo whimpers. “Please.”
“I wish I could, love.” Her voice is remarkably steady.
Jolene’s eyes crack open, fix on me. “Do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“You won’t like it.”
I brace myself. “Anything.”
“Go to work.”
“You’re right, I don’t like that.” I shake my head. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Westley.” She lifts a hand, shaky and weak. I move to the side of the bed, hold it. “Please.”
“Why?”
“Mom knows what to do. We’ve been through this before.”
“So have we,” I argue.
“Not like this,” she says, her voice hoarse. “This is…different.”
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
She closes her eyes. “I know you’re gonna think this is stupid, but…I worry about you. When I’m like this.”
“You’re right, that is stupid.”
She snorts, a gentle laugh. “But it’s true. I do. So. I want you to go meet with your agent and your attorney—no, not attorney…Jen. The manager. Do stuff. Somewhere not here. Come back later. I’ll still be here.”
“How can I, when you’re…”
Her eyes fly open. Pin me. “Go. Please. It’ll help me feel better sooner.” A smile. “Then we can go on that date you’ve been promising me.”
“Jo, come on.”
She looks at her mom. “Help.”
Sherri Park stands up, puts her hand to the center of my back and pushes me out of the room. It’s gentle, but it has the firm, unyielding authority only a mother can exert.
Her eyes are sad. “Westley, listen. She’s trying to spare you, okay?”
“I don’t need to be spared. I’m here for her. I’m with her. No matter what. I promised her that, and I meant it.”
“I know it, and she knows.” She pats my shoulder. “Give her this.”
“It doesn’t feel like giving. It feels like abandoning her.”
“She can be very stubborn—not sure if you’ve gathered that yet or not. She really does worry about others. She worries about being a drain on us. So, if you’re not here, she can focus on feeling better.”
“I get that.” I swallow hard. “But—but what if—”
She cuts over me. “I know—believe me, I know. And at this stage, that is a possibility. But if it seems like you need to be here, I’ll call you. I promise. For now, do what she asks. If you…” a sigh, hesitant and unsure. “If you care about her, you’ll do what she asks. I know it’s hard. I know it seems backward. I know you just want to be there for her. And I know it’s hard to understand, because you want your presence to be a comfort. And I’m sure it is. But right now, you’re more of a distraction. Does that make any sense?”
I sigh. “Yeah, it does.” I close my eyes and wipe my face with both hands. “And, I guess, sometimes, you just want your mom.”
She smiles. “Yeah, there’s probably some of that, too.”
“Mom?” Jo calls out. “Bucket.”
With an apologetic backward glance at me, she rushes into my bathroom, and a moment later I hear Jolene retching.
When she’s done, I go in. She’s lying back in a nest of pillows, sweating yet shaking as if chilled. Her mom has helped her put on the T-shirt I wore yesterday. I take a stack of clean clothes and pause by the bed.
“I’ll go,” I whisper. “But only because you asked.”
She smiles. “Thank you.” A slow blink, a wince, a rough sigh. “Can I ask you for something else?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Careful of promising me anything,” she teases.
“Anything. If I can make it happen, get it, or do it, I will.”
“I’ve always wanted to ride in a helicopter. Maybe our big date could include that?”
“Easy.” Touch my index finger to my lips, then to her lips. “Anything else?”
A shake of her head. “I just want to feel better.” Her eyes close, jaw clenches. Tears leak out. “One more good day. That’s all I want.”
I shake all over, restraining at great effort the barrage of hellish emotion threatening to subsume me.
Instead of crying, I sing.
One Day More, from Les Mis.
I close my eyes and let the song wash over me:
“…One day more
Tomorrow you'll be worlds away
And yet with you my world has started
One more day all on my own
Will we ever meet again?”
When I finish the song, Jolene and her mother are both crying, and so am I, despite my best efforts.
“Dammit, you impossible man,” Jolene whispers. “That was mean.”
“I’m sorry?” I say, huffing a laugh.
She squeezes my hand. “You’re amazing. Did you do Les Mis?”
“Yeah, in high school. I was cast as Jean Valjean the week before I went to the Swan Song show. Then that whole thing happened and we sold more tickets because of that stupid YouTube video than the previous three years’ shows combined.”
“Because you’re incredible.”
“Thanks.”
She winces, jaw clenching. “Thank you. For singing to me.”
I hate leaving.
It’s the hardest thing I think I’ve ever done, walking away from her when I feel like she needs me most.
“There’s no way around your obligation to the movie.” Marty puffs on a cigar, blows the smoke toward the sky; we’re in his backyard, with Jen. There’s an open bottle of wine, but I’ve barely touched my glass. “I might be able to get you a few weeks? About the best I’ll be able to do. This was already on a tight timeline because Shania has another project scheduled, and honestly, so do you. It’s just not possible to push the whole thing back because something more important came up. They’ll recast you, and the movie will suck, because you’re the guy. The hype around this is huge, Wes. Huge.”