She isn’t yelling anymore. She’s only signing. But even though I can tell she’s hurting and upset, I’m still not convinced things would be different if she would take all this a little more seriously like I’ve been trying to get her to do for the last six years.
“You’re not a burden, Maggie,” I sign. “You’re selfish. If you took care of yourself and monitored your blood sugar and used your vest like you’re supposed to and—I don’t know—
maybe didn’t jump out of fucking airplanes, none of us would even be arguing. I’ve put Sydney in an awkward situation that she wouldn’t be in right now if you’d just take better care of yourself.”
Warren covers his face with his hand like I just screwed up.
Maggie rolls her eyes with exaggeration. “Poor Sydney. She really is the victim in all of this, isn’t she? Gets the man of her dreams and she’s healthy. Poor fucking Sydney!” She turns her attention on Warren. “Don’t ever force him to come take care of me again! I don’t need him to take care of me. I don’t need either of you to take care of me!”
Warren raises an eyebrow, but remains stoic. “With all due respect, you kind of do need us, Maggie.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and look down. I know that had to hurt her, and I don’t want to watch the sting. When I open my eyes again, she’s marching to her bedroom. She slams the door. Warren turns and punches the refrigerator. I walk to the table by the couch and grab Warren’s car keys.
“I want to leave.” I toss Warren his keys, but his eyes dart up to Maggie’s bedroom door. He rushes across the living room and swings the door open. Naturally, I rush with him because I can’t hear whatever it is he just heard.
Maggie is in her bathroom, hugging the toilet, vomiting. Warren grabs a washcloth and bends down next to her. I walk over and sit on the edge of the tub.
This happens when she has too much buildup in her lungs. I’m sure right now, it’s a combination of that and not using her vest for several days, and all the yelling she just did. I reach over and pull her hair back until it stops. It’s hard for me to be upset with her right now. She’s crying, leaning against Warren.
I don’t know what it’s like to be the one with this illness, so I probably shouldn’t be judging her actions so harshly. I only know what it’s like to be the one to care for someone with this illness. I used to have to remind myself of that all the time. No matter how frustrated I get, it’s nothing compared to what she must go through.
It looks like I still need that reminder.
Maggie won’t even look at me the whole time we wait with her to see if her episode is over. She doesn’t even look at me when we’re convinced it is over and Warren helps her to her bedroom. It’s her way of giving me the silent treatment. She used to refuse to look at me when she was mad because she didn’t want to give me the chance to sign to her.
Warren gets her in the bed, and I take her generator back to the living room. Once Maggie is settled, Warren leaves her door halfway open while he comes back to the living room and takes a seat on the couch.
I’m still pissed that he lied about their phone call in order to guilt me into coming. But I also understand why he did it. The three of us do need to sit down and figure this out. Maggie doesn’t want to be a burden, but until she buckles down and makes her health her primary focus, she’ll never be as independent as she wishes she could be. And as long as she’s dependent, it’s the two of us who will be taking care of her.
I know we’re all she has. And I know that Sydney understands that. I would never walk away from Maggie completely, knowing how much she needs someone in her corner. But when you do things that continue to belittle and even disrespect the efforts of those in your corner, eventually you’re going to lose your team. And without your team, eventually you lose the fight.
I don’t want her to lose the fight. None of us do. Which is why Warren and I stay, because she needs a treatment. And that can’t happen until I repair her vest.
Warren watches TV for the next hour, getting up once to take Maggie a glass of water. When he comes back into the room, he waves his hand to get my attention.
“Her cough sounds bad,” he says.
I just nod. I already know. It’s why I’m still trying to work on this vest.
It’s after 2:00 a.m. when I finally figure out the issue. I found an old generator she used to use in her hallway closet. I switched out the power cords and can get it to kick on, but it won’t stay on unless I’m holding the cord with my fingers.
Warren is asleep on the couch when I take the vest to Maggie’s bedroom. Her lamp is still on, so I can see that she’s still wide awake. I walk over to her bed and plug in the generator and hand her the vest. She sits up and slips it on.
“There’s a short. I have to hold the cord while it’s powered on or it’ll cut off.”
She nods, but she doesn’t say anything. We both know this routine. The machine runs for five minutes, and then she has to cough to clear out her lungs. I run it for another five minutes and then let her take another coughing break. The routine continues for half an hour.
When the treatment is over, she slips off the vest and continues to avoid eye contact with me as she rolls over. I lay it on the floor, but when I look back at her, I can tell by the movement in her shoulders that she’s crying.
And now I feel like an asshole.
I know I get frustrated with her, but she isn’t perfect. Neither am I. And as long as we’re doing nothing but arguing and pointing out each other’s shortcomings, we’re never going to get her health on the right track.
I sit next to her on the bed and squeeze her shoulder. It’s what I used to do when I felt helpless to her situation. She reaches up and squeezes my hand, and just like that, the argument is over. She rolls over onto her back and looks up at me.
“I didn’t tell Warren on the phone that I was scared.”
I nod. “I know that now.”
A tear falls from her eye and slides down into her hair. “But he’s right, Ridge. I am scared.”
I’ve never seen this look on her face before, and it completely guts me. I hate this for her. I really do. She starts crying harder and rolls away from me. And as much as I want to tell her it wouldn’t be so scary if she’d stop acting like she was immune to the effects of her illness, I don’t respond. I wrap my arm around her because she doesn’t need a lecture right now.
She just needs a friend.
•••
I made Maggie do a second treatment in the middle of the night last night. I’m pretty sure I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of her second treatment, because I woke up at eight o’clock this morning and realized I was on her bed. I know Sydney wouldn’t be comfortable with that, so I moved to the couch. I’m still on the couch. Face down. Trying to sleep, but Warren is shaking me.
I reach for my phone and look at the time, not expecting it to be noon. I sit up immediately, wondering why he let me sleep so long.
“Get up,” he signs. “We need to get Maggie’s car and drop it back off here before we head back to Austin.”
I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “We need to go to the medical supply store first,” I tell him. “I want to see if they can give her a generator until hers gets repaired.”
Warren signs “okay” and walks to the bathroom.
I fall back against the couch and sigh. I hate how this whole trip has gone. It’s left me with an unsettled feeling, which, funny enough, is exactly what Sydney was hoping for. I smile, knowing she got her way and she doesn’t even know it. I haven’t spoken to her since all the fighting between me, Maggie, and Warren last night. I open my texts to her and notice she hasn’t texted since we talked last night. I wonder how her night with Bridgette went.
Ridge: Heading back soon. How was your sleepover?
She begins texting back immediately. I watch the text bubbles appear and disappear several times until her text comes through.
Sydney: Apparently not as eventful as yours.
Her text confuses me. I look at Warren, who is walking out of the bathroom. “Did you tell Sydney about the argument last night?”
“You’re not a burden, Maggie,” I sign. “You’re selfish. If you took care of yourself and monitored your blood sugar and used your vest like you’re supposed to and—I don’t know—
maybe didn’t jump out of fucking airplanes, none of us would even be arguing. I’ve put Sydney in an awkward situation that she wouldn’t be in right now if you’d just take better care of yourself.”
Warren covers his face with his hand like I just screwed up.
Maggie rolls her eyes with exaggeration. “Poor Sydney. She really is the victim in all of this, isn’t she? Gets the man of her dreams and she’s healthy. Poor fucking Sydney!” She turns her attention on Warren. “Don’t ever force him to come take care of me again! I don’t need him to take care of me. I don’t need either of you to take care of me!”
Warren raises an eyebrow, but remains stoic. “With all due respect, you kind of do need us, Maggie.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and look down. I know that had to hurt her, and I don’t want to watch the sting. When I open my eyes again, she’s marching to her bedroom. She slams the door. Warren turns and punches the refrigerator. I walk to the table by the couch and grab Warren’s car keys.
“I want to leave.” I toss Warren his keys, but his eyes dart up to Maggie’s bedroom door. He rushes across the living room and swings the door open. Naturally, I rush with him because I can’t hear whatever it is he just heard.
Maggie is in her bathroom, hugging the toilet, vomiting. Warren grabs a washcloth and bends down next to her. I walk over and sit on the edge of the tub.
This happens when she has too much buildup in her lungs. I’m sure right now, it’s a combination of that and not using her vest for several days, and all the yelling she just did. I reach over and pull her hair back until it stops. It’s hard for me to be upset with her right now. She’s crying, leaning against Warren.
I don’t know what it’s like to be the one with this illness, so I probably shouldn’t be judging her actions so harshly. I only know what it’s like to be the one to care for someone with this illness. I used to have to remind myself of that all the time. No matter how frustrated I get, it’s nothing compared to what she must go through.
It looks like I still need that reminder.
Maggie won’t even look at me the whole time we wait with her to see if her episode is over. She doesn’t even look at me when we’re convinced it is over and Warren helps her to her bedroom. It’s her way of giving me the silent treatment. She used to refuse to look at me when she was mad because she didn’t want to give me the chance to sign to her.
Warren gets her in the bed, and I take her generator back to the living room. Once Maggie is settled, Warren leaves her door halfway open while he comes back to the living room and takes a seat on the couch.
I’m still pissed that he lied about their phone call in order to guilt me into coming. But I also understand why he did it. The three of us do need to sit down and figure this out. Maggie doesn’t want to be a burden, but until she buckles down and makes her health her primary focus, she’ll never be as independent as she wishes she could be. And as long as she’s dependent, it’s the two of us who will be taking care of her.
I know we’re all she has. And I know that Sydney understands that. I would never walk away from Maggie completely, knowing how much she needs someone in her corner. But when you do things that continue to belittle and even disrespect the efforts of those in your corner, eventually you’re going to lose your team. And without your team, eventually you lose the fight.
I don’t want her to lose the fight. None of us do. Which is why Warren and I stay, because she needs a treatment. And that can’t happen until I repair her vest.
Warren watches TV for the next hour, getting up once to take Maggie a glass of water. When he comes back into the room, he waves his hand to get my attention.
“Her cough sounds bad,” he says.
I just nod. I already know. It’s why I’m still trying to work on this vest.
It’s after 2:00 a.m. when I finally figure out the issue. I found an old generator she used to use in her hallway closet. I switched out the power cords and can get it to kick on, but it won’t stay on unless I’m holding the cord with my fingers.
Warren is asleep on the couch when I take the vest to Maggie’s bedroom. Her lamp is still on, so I can see that she’s still wide awake. I walk over to her bed and plug in the generator and hand her the vest. She sits up and slips it on.
“There’s a short. I have to hold the cord while it’s powered on or it’ll cut off.”
She nods, but she doesn’t say anything. We both know this routine. The machine runs for five minutes, and then she has to cough to clear out her lungs. I run it for another five minutes and then let her take another coughing break. The routine continues for half an hour.
When the treatment is over, she slips off the vest and continues to avoid eye contact with me as she rolls over. I lay it on the floor, but when I look back at her, I can tell by the movement in her shoulders that she’s crying.
And now I feel like an asshole.
I know I get frustrated with her, but she isn’t perfect. Neither am I. And as long as we’re doing nothing but arguing and pointing out each other’s shortcomings, we’re never going to get her health on the right track.
I sit next to her on the bed and squeeze her shoulder. It’s what I used to do when I felt helpless to her situation. She reaches up and squeezes my hand, and just like that, the argument is over. She rolls over onto her back and looks up at me.
“I didn’t tell Warren on the phone that I was scared.”
I nod. “I know that now.”
A tear falls from her eye and slides down into her hair. “But he’s right, Ridge. I am scared.”
I’ve never seen this look on her face before, and it completely guts me. I hate this for her. I really do. She starts crying harder and rolls away from me. And as much as I want to tell her it wouldn’t be so scary if she’d stop acting like she was immune to the effects of her illness, I don’t respond. I wrap my arm around her because she doesn’t need a lecture right now.
She just needs a friend.
•••
I made Maggie do a second treatment in the middle of the night last night. I’m pretty sure I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of her second treatment, because I woke up at eight o’clock this morning and realized I was on her bed. I know Sydney wouldn’t be comfortable with that, so I moved to the couch. I’m still on the couch. Face down. Trying to sleep, but Warren is shaking me.
I reach for my phone and look at the time, not expecting it to be noon. I sit up immediately, wondering why he let me sleep so long.
“Get up,” he signs. “We need to get Maggie’s car and drop it back off here before we head back to Austin.”
I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “We need to go to the medical supply store first,” I tell him. “I want to see if they can give her a generator until hers gets repaired.”
Warren signs “okay” and walks to the bathroom.
I fall back against the couch and sigh. I hate how this whole trip has gone. It’s left me with an unsettled feeling, which, funny enough, is exactly what Sydney was hoping for. I smile, knowing she got her way and she doesn’t even know it. I haven’t spoken to her since all the fighting between me, Maggie, and Warren last night. I open my texts to her and notice she hasn’t texted since we talked last night. I wonder how her night with Bridgette went.
Ridge: Heading back soon. How was your sleepover?
She begins texting back immediately. I watch the text bubbles appear and disappear several times until her text comes through.
Sydney: Apparently not as eventful as yours.
Her text confuses me. I look at Warren, who is walking out of the bathroom. “Did you tell Sydney about the argument last night?”
