Part 52 (1/2)
It had been a gruesome week, but now she was home. For Good. She had consented to these last two treatments, more for Joshua and Hannah than for herself, but now it was over. There would be no more treatments; they had proved ineffective, and there was nothing else to be done.
Hannah greeted them at the door in her wheelchair. She was still recovering from her stroke, but was making good progress. With continued therapy, she would soon be using a walker and, perhaps, eventually a cane. She was eternally grateful that Joshua's friends had gotten her to the hospital that night, for things could have turned out much worse.
Behind Hannah stood Loretta, who had finally quit her job, and would now be helping Hannah and Rachel full-time. Next to Loretta was a young Philippine woman, a nurse from a local hospice, who would set up and monitor some of Rachel's medications.
Loretta started putting away Rachel's things, while Joshua, the driver, and the nurse transferred Rachel to her bed. Rachel's fatigue was evident, her breathing labored. Hannah made some tea; she'd become quite adept at getting around the kitchen in the wheelchair. She offered the driver a cup, but he had to be on his way.
Rachel fell asleep quickly, the benefits of a morphine drip. The nurse left, and would return later that evening to check on things. Joshua, Loretta, and Hannah sat in the kitchen, sipping tea, making small talk, and waiting. All that was left to do was wait.
Joshua entered Rachel's room. It was almost ten o'clock at night, and he'd just come from a community board meeting. The situation in the neighborhood remained dire, the wounds from the riots still fresh. Rachel's condition wasn't much better.
”How'd it go?” she asked, barely able to speak.
”Same old s.h.i.+t.”
”Don't be so negative.”
”Who's being negative?”
It hurt her to laugh.
”How are you?” he asked.
”Same old... whatever.”
He touched her cheek and smiled. Her breathing was loud, her eyes glossed, her face listless. Her body had become ravaged by the cancer, emaciated to the point where he could see tumors beneath her skin. To him, she was still beautiful. ”You don't have to talk,” he said.
She offered a faint smile of her own, the best she could do.
Hannah and Loretta came in from the living room. They had overheard the conversation. Rachel had barely spoken during the five days since she'd returned from the hospital, and Hannah didn't want to miss a moment of it.
”Mama,” Rachel whispered.
”I'm here,” Hannah said as she maneuvered the wheelchair around to the side of the bed.
”You okay?” Rachel asked.
”I'm fine,” Hannah answered. ”The doctor says I'll be walking in no time. You're going to be fine too!”
”No.” Rachel hesitated, she needed to swallow. It was hard to do even that. ”I'm not.”
”But you will be. The Rebbe has been praying for you.”
Rachel looked at her mother. She had neither the heart nor the strength to reply.
”You should rest,” Hannah said.
”Can't rest... afraid.”
”There's nothing to be afraid of. G.o.d is with you.”
”G.o.d is waiting for me. Papa is...”
”Don't say such things, Rucheleh.” Hannah was desperately trying not to cry.
”Mama.”
Hannah looked at her.
”I'm sorry.”
”Sorry, for what?”
”For leaving you.” Rachel was getting weaker with every word.
Hannah burst into tears. She was beyond words. Joshua was on the other side of the bed, and took Rachel's hand. ”It's okay,” Joshua said, trying to smile.
”Oh Joshua,” Rachel said, tears falling. ”My Joshua.” She tried to lift her hand to touch his face, but couldn't. He lifted it for her.
”G.o.d has been unkind to us,” she said. ”Life has been unkind.”
”There's been some good,” he responded.
”Not enough.”
”Just being with you has been enough.”
”Has it?”
Their eyes met, communicating that it hadn't. She coughed and gasped for breath. He put his hand on her shoulder to relax her. ”It's okay,” he said.
”I'm so tired,” she said.
”Then rest,” Hannah said.
Rachel looked at Joshua.
”Rest,” he said. ”It's okay.”
”Is it?”
”It is. I promise.”
”I'm afraid.”