“My love, he’s not going to make it,” Mary said in a cold voice not her own. “You should see the doctor yourself if you don’t believe me. They’ll have all the care he needs there. Isn’t that the point of palliative care? Everyone does it…”
Liam was born two months premature and was immediately taken to the ICU. At first, there was no word from the doctors, but then there was a glimmer of hope—he started to breathe on his own and gain weight. Even when he was discharged, he was so tiny that John was afraid to hold him, worried he might accidentally hurt him. When Liam woke up in the night and cried softly, Mary wouldn’t get up, so John had to learn to care for him on his own. Mary refused to take him to the doctors, blaming them for everything that had happened, insisting that she had taken all the right tests and scans, and everything was supposed to be fine. But how could this be fine? Three months old, and he couldn’t even hold up his head.
John took it upon himself to make appointments with the doctors and endured their confusing jargon while braving the tests with Liam, grimacing like a child every time a nurse tried to find a vein. Eventually, he made it to the geneticists in the city, who explained that Liam could be helped with special medication. So, John took up an offer from a friend for a high-paying job in London, despite Mary’s reluctance. But there was no other way, and he went, thinking Mary would take care of their son.
– “Everything’s fine, my child, you just keep working,” his grandmother would reassure him.
In truth, she had been the one visiting Liam in the hospital—talking to him, applying cream to prevent bedsores, and giving him massages. Mary had returned to work and hadn’t informed him. She only confessed when John announced he’d be home on leave for a month.
– “Mary, he’s our son!” John exclaimed. “What’s all this about palliative care? Isn’t that why I’m working?
– “What medication?” Mary snapped. “Have you even seen him? You’ve been away for six months, don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do! I’m still young, and I want to live a life. We could have another child. I don’t want to spend my life changing nappies!”
Mary had a younger brother with cerebral palsy, and when they first met, John admired how she cared for him, reading him stories and moving him around. That’s why he fell for her, really. But she seemed to have had love enough only for her brother and not their son.
– “If you don’t bring him home, I’ll file for divorce,” John threatened.
– “Go ahead. I survived without you all this time, I’ll manage.”
He didn’t think she’d leave for real, but she did, before he even arrived home. She left the keys with his grandmother, who had suspected all along but hadn’t told him—Mary had found someone else to move in with.
– “Don’t worry, dear,” said his grandmother. “I’ll help you with Liam, but we might need to find work here—it’s too much for me alone.”
John understood; his grandmother had been unwell and needed care herself. She had raised him after his mother, a successful singer, had left him for a month that turned into years, sending money while he was in school and then stopping. He always thought she loved him but had a complicated life full of concerts and fans. He once went to one of her shows, spending almost all his salary on a big bouquet of roses, dreaming she’d recognize him. She didn’t—not during the performance, just collected the flowers and tossed them aside backstage. Afterward, he tried to tell her who he was, but she wouldn’t see him, only sending a message that she’d call. He waited a month by the phone, though she never did.
Now, he rarely thought of her. If her song played on the radio, he’d switch it off. His grandmother was both his mother and father, and she’d now become the same for little Liam, looking after him while John found a job with a schedule that wouldn’t tire her too much. Mary never even called, worse than his own mother, who at least pretended she had a child.
– “John, I had the most vivid dream,” his grandmother once said. “Your grandfather, God rest his soul, asked me to bring water from the well. I told him I couldn’t walk, but he said everyone there could. I saw the greenest, softest grass beneath my feet—I began to walk, and there was no pain! I looked into the well after collecting the water and saw you in a suit, standing next to a lovely girl with dimples in her cheeks, in a wedding veil. I feel it was a sign—you’ll find yourself a good wife, not like her.”
– “Nan, what wife? If his own mother didn’t care for Liam, who would?”
The next day, his grandmother didn’t wake up. So her dream came true in a way, but not for him—now she brings her husband water, not little Liam.
John had no idea what to do next. His mother helped with the funeral, even attending, but it cost more than he could afford, and he was too ashamed to ask her for help. Still, a few weeks later, she called him.
– “I’ve found a nurse for your son. Don’t worry about the cost—I’ll cover it.”
Her generosity astonished him, and he almost declined, but pride had to take a backseat when Liam’s medication was running low.
He expected a mature, experienced woman like those he often encountered in hospitals, women who reminded him of his grandmother. Yet, his mother had found a recent graduate—she admitted it was her first job.
– “Don’t worry, Mr. Thompson, I’ve had special training,” she assured him, her voice slightly shaky.
John considered calling his mother to complain but couldn’t bring himself to. Maybe, he thought, those courses are enough.
Her name was Emily. She called him every half hour with questions.
– “Mr. Thompson, is it normal for him to hiccup?”
– “Keep him upright and put something warm on his back—iron a towel if you have to.”
– “Mr. Thompson, he’s breathing heavily, I’m scared!”
– “Emily, remember the inhaler…”
And so it went.
After a couple of weeks, she seemed to settle into the role, though John had to switch jobs to one with more flexible hours, so he could be home by the time she left at six. He worked construction, all off the books, with the promise of decent pay eventually.
John spent his weekends with Liam—Emily refused to work weekends even for extra pay, as she was studying Chinese, babbling on about internships and acupuncture. She was amusing, naïve, trusting in the internet like his grandmother trusted the television.
On Liam’s birthday, Emily came even though it was a weekend. She brought him a balloon—he loved them—and a knitted onesie. John was so touched; he invited her for tea, having bought a cake for the occasion. They all went for a walk, dressing Liam warmly, tying the balloon to his pram so he could watch it. John knew his son might not reach another birthday, a thought that made it hard to breathe. But in that moment, as he pushed the pram down the sunny street, the balloon jostling in the gentle autumn breeze, he felt a rare peace.
He spotted Mary only when they stopped at a crossing. Her made-up face stood alongside similarly adorned friends, seemingly on their way to an event. She didn’t notice him at first, but when she did, her expression changed. She turned to her friends and hurried to the other side.
– “Who was that?” Emily asked, noticing John’s tense gaze.
He exhaled slowly, answering, “No one.”
– “Good,” she replied, smiling.
He realized he’d never seen her smile, dimples appearing on her cheeks, triggering a vague memory he couldn’t quite place. The blue balloon bobbing against a blue sky matched his heartbeat’s quickening pace.
Wages remained unpaid. Medication supply was dwindling, leaving John with little choice but to call his mother.
– “Am I not helping enough?” she snapped. “Do you know what I’m paying that girl? What kind of man can’t earn enough for his son’s medicine?”
John felt ashamed, breathless with the sting of her words. He disconnected the call, lowering his head. He wished desperately for his grandmother to appear, to place a comforting hand on his shoulder and assure him all would be well.
Light footsteps approached, and Emily stood in the doorway, an envelope in her hand.
– “Here,” she said, placing it on the table.
– “What’s this?” John asked.
– “It’s for Liam’s medicine.”
He was baffled, unsure of what to make of her gesture.
– “Your mother’s been very generous. I was saving for a trip to China but realized I don’t need it—I’m still living with my parents, and I have all I need.”
– “But what about your trip…” John mumbled, flustered.
Emily simply shrugged. “Some other time.”
Her tentative smile revealed the dimples again, stirring a memory of his grandmother’s hopeful dream. John flushed, not quite understanding why.
– “Take it,” Emily insisted softly. “It’s the right thing to do.”
– “I’ll pay you back,” John promised hoarsely. “And since you’re not going to China, maybe you’d like to visit on the weekend? Like last time…”
Emily’s smile widened. “I’d love to.”
