“I’m telling you, he’s not going to make it,” said his wife with an unfamiliar, cold tone. “You should come and speak to the doctor yourself if you don’t believe me. They’ve got nurses and everything he needs there. There’s a reason why they invented hospice; everyone does it…”
Leo was born two months early and was taken straight to the neonatal intensive care unit. At first, they didn’t tell them much, but it seemed hopeful when he started breathing on his own and gaining weight. Even when they brought him home, he was so tiny that Jack was afraid to hold him, worried he’d hurt him somehow. But when little Leo would wake crying softly at night, Sarah never got up to him, so Jack had to figure it out himself. Sarah didn’t want to take him to the doctors either, claiming it was because of them in the first place; she’d done all the tests, and everything seemed fine, right? Well, how was this fine? Three months old and he still couldn’t hold his head up.
Jack made the appointments himself, listened to puzzling medical terms that felt like his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and had tests done with Leo, each time closing his eyes as if he were a child when the nurse tried to find a vein. Eventually, he reached specialists in London who explained that Leo could be helped but would require special medication. So, Jack took a job offshore—a friend had been suggesting it for ages because the pay was good, but Sarah never let him go. Now, there wasn’t a choice, and off he went. He thought his son was with Sarah and everything was fine until it turned out this way. Even his mother kept things from him, although he sensed she was hiding something.
“Everything’s alright, son, keep on working,” she assured him.
It turned out she was the one visiting Leo in the hospital all this time—talking to him, applying cream to prevent bedsores, and giving him massages. Sarah had gone back to work and hadn’t told Jack, only confessed when Jack said he’d come home for a month’s holiday.
“Sarah, he’s our son!” Jack exclaimed in disbelief. “What hospice? Why am I working so hard? The doctor said medications…”
“Oh, what medications!” Sarah snapped. “Have you even seen him? You’ve been away for half a year, don’t tell me how I should run my life! I’m still young, I want to live for myself. We can have another child. I don’t want to be changing nappies forever like a mother!”
Sarah’s younger brother had cerebral palsy, and when Jack and Sarah first met, Jack admired how delicate and refined she was yet could still look after her brother, settle him in his chair, and read him stories. That was why he fell for her. But it seemed Sarah only had love enough for her brother.
“If you don’t bring our son home, I’ll file for divorce,” Jack threatened.
“Go ahead and do it! Don’t think you can scare me! I’ve managed without you and will continue to do so.”
He didn’t believe she’d actually leave. But Sarah left even before he returned, leaving the keys with his mother, who had long suspected but hadn’t told Jack—Sarah had found someone else to move in with during those months.
“Don’t worry, son, we’ll manage. I’ll help you with Leo, but you’ll have to find a job here—I can’t handle it all alone,” his mother said.
Jack understood this; his mother had been unwell for a long time and needed care herself, but he couldn’t repay her while literally being torn in two.
Jack had been raised by his mother. His real mother, a quite successful singer, had left him with his grandmother for only a month but never came back for him, only sent money regularly while he was in school. Presumably, she decided he could fend for himself. In his youth, Jack thought his mother loved him but just had a complicated life: concerts, interviews, fans… He even bought a ticket to one of her concerts—holding an enormous bouquet of roses, dreaming of how he’d give them to her and she’d recognize him, call out, “That’s my son!”
But things went differently: she didn’t notice him for a while, finally took the bouquet without a glance, and tossed it into a corner. Jack had almost spent his entire wages on those roses. It was hard, but after the concert, he managed to get backstage and tell her he was her son, but she didn’t let him in. She had someone tell him she was tired and would call him. He waited by the phone for a month, but she never rang.
Now he didn’t think about her, and if her songs came on the radio, he switched it off immediately, although he used to know all the lyrics by heart. His grandmother had been his father, whom he never knew, and his mother. And now she was a mother to Leo too.
“Jack, I had such a vivid dream today,” his grandmother once shared. “Your grandfather, God bless him, asked me to bring him water from the well. I said, ‘How can I when my legs don’t work?’ And he said, ‘Everyone can walk here.’ I looked down, and the grass was vibrant green, soft as a feather. I walked, and my legs glided, no pain! I drew water and peered into the well. And there you were in a suit and tie, with a lovely girl beside you, dimples on her cheeks, wearing a veil. I’ve got a feeling you’ll find yourself a good wife, not like that floozy!”
“Gran, what wife? If his own mother didn’t want to care for Leo, who’d agree?” Jack said.
But the next day, she didn’t wake up. So perhaps the dream foreshadowed something, but not this—now she was carrying that water to his grandfather, not little Leo.
Jack didn’t know what to do now. His mother helped with the funeral and even came herself, but it still cost money, and he was too ashamed to ask her. But a couple of weeks later, his mother called and said:
“I’ve found a carer for your son. I’ll be paying her, don’t worry.”
Jack was surprised by such generosity and initially wanted to refuse, proclaiming he needed nothing from her, but reconsidered—pride wouldn’t help when Leo’s medication was running out.
He expected an experienced older woman, like the ones he’d seen in hospitals with Leo, women who reminded him of his grandmother in her youth. But it seemed his mother cut costs even here—she sent a recent graduate, who admitted this was her first job.
“Don’t worry, I’ve done special courses and can manage everything,” she said bravely, though her voice shook.
Jack could have called his mother to complain that this lass wouldn’t manage with Leo, but he didn’t want to speak to her. So, he decided to wait, to see if the courses were worth anything.
The girl’s name was Marina. She called him every half hour.
“Mr. Johnson, is it normal for him to hiccup?”
“Hold him upright. You can use an iron to warm a towel and put it against his back.”
“Mr. Johnson, his breathing seems labored; I’m scared!”
“Marina, the inhaler, as I told you…”
And so it went.
After a couple of weeks, she seemed to adapt and handle things better. Because her working hours ended at six, Jack had to switch jobs. He moved to a construction job due to the flexible schedule, though everything was off the books. They promised good pay, but as for when…
Jack spent weekends with Leo now—the girl couldn’t work weekends even for extra pay. She was learning Chinese, with hopes of an internship there, studying acupuncture too. Marina was cheerful and naive, unlike Jack’s grandmother, who believed everything on TV, while Marina believed everything online.
On Leo’s birthday, Marina visited even on the weekend—she brought a balloon, which Leo loved, and had knitted overalls herself. Jack was touched and invited her for tea—he’d bought a cake for the occasion. Then they all went for a walk—dressed Leo in his new outfit, tucked him in the pram, and tied the balloon to it for him to watch. Jack knew Leo might not survive another birthday, which made it hard to breathe. Yet, in that moment, rolling him down the sunny street with a balloon trying to soar into the light autumn breeze, Jack felt at peace.
He noticed Sarah too late, only when they stopped at a crosswalk and his gaze landed on her painted face. She was with similarly dressed friends, seemingly heading for some event. Sarah didn’t recognize him at first but then blushed and turned away, muttering something to her friends as they hurried to the other side.
“Who’s that?” asked Marina, sensing his tense gaze.
Jack slowly exhaled and responded, “No one.”
“Good,” she said, smiling.
He hadn’t seen her smile before. Dimples danced on Marina’s cheeks, faintly reminding him of something, but what? The blue balloon against the equally blue sky fluttered like his heart.
His payday was delayed, and with Leo’s medicine running out, Jack had no choice—he called his mother.
“Haven’t I done enough for you?” she asked, irritated. “Do you know how much I’m paying that girl? What kind of man are you that you can’t earn for some medicine?”
The shame stifled him. Could he really not provide for his own son? Hanging up, he lowered his head, wishing his grandmother were here to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder and assure him that everything would be alright…
Footsteps sounded softly, and Marina appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding an envelope.
“Here,” she said, placing it on the table.
“What’s this?” Jack asked, confused.
“It’s for Leo’s medicine.”
He couldn’t understand—what did this mean?
“Your mother paid me well, don’t worry. I was saving for a trip to China, but I don’t need that now—I live with my parents, have everything.”
“But what about your trip…” Jack hesitated.
Marina shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere now…”
She smiled shyly, dimples appearing on her cheeks, and Jack remembered his grandmother and her dream. He blushed to the roots of his hair, not knowing why.
“It’s the right thing to do,” said Marina firmly.
“I’ll pay you back,” Jack hoarsely said, clearing his throat. “Since you’re not going to China, maybe you’d come around on the weekend? We could go out, like last time…”
Marina smiled again, replying: “I’d love to.”
