A Love Left Behind

Chapter 27 - Home

For the next eleven months, I barely remembered that a world existed outside my family.

It didn't happen immediately.

In the beginning, there was Rose.

There was always Rose.

But first there was Chloe.

I went straight from the airport to the hospital.

I hadn't slept properly in almost two days. I hadn't showered. My clothes still smelled like the Philippines.

None of it mattered.

Dad met me outside her room. The arrived a flight before me as they were travelling from another island.

I had never seen him look that old.

“How is she?”

“Stable.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because she is.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means she's alive, Damian.”

His voice broke.

I looked away.

Mum was sitting beside Chloe's bed.

She didn't get up when I entered.

For most of my life, my mother had seemed impossible to break.

Not that day.

Her hair was tied back badly. She wore no makeup. Her eyes were swollen.

And Chloe—

I couldn't look at her properly at first.

Not because of what she'd done.

Because she looked like my sister.

That sounds stupid.

I'd expected something different.

Something that explained it.

Instead, there she was.

Chloe.

My annoying, complicated, impossible sister.

Alive.

I sat beside her.

“Hey.”

She looked at me.

Then away.

I didn't know what to say.

So I got angry.

“What the hell, Chloe?”

Mum looked at me.

“Damian.”

“No.”

Chloe didn't react.

“I called you.”

Nothing.

“I got on a plane.”

Still nothing.

“Can you at least look at me?”

“Damian, stop.”

I stood.

“Everyone keeps telling me to stop.”

Mum got up.

“Outside.”

“I just got here.”

“Outside.”

I followed her into the hallway.

“What?”

“She doesn't need this.”

“What does she need?”

“I don't know!”

Mum almost shouted it.

Then she covered her mouth.

I'd never heard my mother say those words before.

I don't know.

Dad appeared at the end of the hallway.

For once, nobody fought.

There wasn't enough energy left.

My phone vibrated.

Rose.

How is she?

I stared at the message.

Then typed:

Alive. Won't talk.

Her answer came immediately.

I'm here.

I put my phone away.

At the time, I believed that was enough.

Three days later, Chloe finally spoke to me.

Mum had gone home to shower.

Dad was getting coffee.

It was just us.

“You should go back.”

I looked at her.

“What?”

“To the Philippines.”

“No.”

“Why?”

I laughed.

It wasn't funny.

“Seriously?”

“I ruined your trip.”

“This isn't about my trip.”

She looked toward the window.

“Rose must hate me.”

“Rose doesn't hate you.”

“She should.”

“Stop.”

“Is Rea still there?”

The question surprised me.

“In the Philippines?”

She nodded.

“Yeah.”

“With Rose's family?”

“Yes.”

Her jaw tightened.

“Of course.”

There was something in the way she said it.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

I hated that word.

“Chloe.”

“Leave it.”

“No.”

She turned toward me.

“Why do they love her so much?”

“Who?”

“Rose's family.”

“Rea?”

She nodded.

“Because she's family to them.”

The second I said it, I saw something change.

“Right.”

“Chloe—”

“And Rose?”

“What about her?”

“She thinks Rea is family too.”

“Yes.”

She laughed once.

There was no humor in it.

“So that's it.”

“What is?”

“You don't get it.”

“Then explain it.”

She looked at me.

Her eyes filled with tears.

“If you marry her, she never goes away.”

I stopped breathing for a second.

“Who?”

“Rea.”

I stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

“Rose won't let you exclude her.”

“Why would I exclude her?”

Exactly the wrong answer.

Chloe turned away.

“Forget it.”

“No. Chloe.”

“I said forget it!”

She shouted so loudly that a nurse appeared.

I stepped back.

Chloe was crying now.

“You all just get to decide,” she said.

“Decide what?”

“Everything!”

“I haven't decided anything!”

“You said you might marry her!”

“Someday! Maybe!”

“And then what?”

I didn't know.

She did.

Apparently she'd thought about it far more than I had.

“Mum has to sit with her at your wedding?”

“What?”

“Birthdays? Christmas? Your children?”

“Chloe, stop.”

“She gets everything.”

“Who?”

“Rea!”

I stared at my sister.

“She gets Dad. She gets her family. Now she gets ours too.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“To you!”

“No, Chloe, it doesn't!”

Her face changed.

I regretted it immediately.

But I was angry.

Terrified.

Exhausted.

And eighteen.

“You did this because I might marry Rose someday?”

Chloe stared at me.

Then she whispered, “You really don't understand anything.”

The nurse told me to leave.

So I did.

I stood in the hallway afterward feeling sick.

Not because Chloe had blamed Rose.

She hadn't.

That almost made it worse.

Rose was simply a door Chloe could see opening.

And behind it was a future she couldn't control.

My phone vibrated.

Rose again.

Can you call?

I looked through the window at Chloe.

Later.

That became my favorite word.

Later.

Later that evening.

Later tomorrow.

Later when Chloe came home.

Later when Mum's appointment was over.

Later when Dad stopped looking like he might collapse.

Later when I had slept.

Later.

Rose waited through all of them.

The first month disappeared.

Chloe came home but wasn't okay.

People seemed to think leaving the hospital meant the crisis was over.

It wasn't.

There were appointments.

Therapy.

Bad days.

Worse nights.

Mum barely left her alone.

Dad was there constantly.

And then Mum's results came back.

Another suspicious area.

More tests.

More waiting.

Cancer had already taught us that one good result didn't make fear disappear.

Suddenly Dad was taking Mum to appointments again.

He stayed at her house.

He cooked.

He drove Chloe where she needed to go.

For brief moments, if I ignored everything that had happened over the years, we looked like a family again.

Mum.

Dad.

Chloe.

Me.

And somewhere outside that picture was Rea.

Again.

I noticed.

I did nothing.

I hated myself for that too.

Rose called almost every day at first.

Sometimes I answered.

Sometimes I couldn't.

Sometimes I watched her name disappear from my screen because Chloe was sitting beside me.

Or Mum was talking.

Or Dad needed something.

I always thought I'd call back.

Sometimes I did.

Often I didn't.

Then Rose started calling every second day.

Then less.

I didn't notice when that happened.

That's the truth I hated most later.

I didn't notice.

Two months after I came home, she sent:

Can you please call me? Something is happening with the company.

I read it while sitting outside one of Chloe's appointments.

I typed:

What happened?

Before she answered, Mum called.

The doctor wanted her to come in earlier.

I put my phone away.

That evening, Rose had sent six messages.

I read the first.

Kaelob found something. Mum is worried.

Then Chloe came downstairs crying.

I never read the other five.

Not that night.

Not the next morning.

Days became weeks.

Weeks became months.

My life developed a routine around crisis.

Chloe got better.

Then worse.

Then better again.

Mum had another procedure.

The results were encouraging.

Then there was another appointment.

Dad practically moved between Mum's house and ours.

Rea stopped asking when he'd be home.

I knew because I heard them argue once.

“You could at least tell me.”

“I don't know when I'll be back.”

“You never know.”

“My daughter needs me.”

“I didn't say she doesn't.”

“Then what are we arguing about?”

There it was.

The same old story.

Different year.

I walked away.

I had no room left for another person's pain.

Rose's messages became shorter.

Hope Chloe is okay.

Thinking of you.

Call when you can.

Then one night:

Damian, I really need to talk to you.

I saw it.

I remember seeing it.

I was sitting beside Mum in the hospital.

She had fallen asleep.

Chloe was at home with Dad.

For once, nobody needed anything from me.

I could have called.

I almost did.

Then Mum woke up and vomited.

I put the phone down.

I'll call tomorrow.

Tomorrow came.

I forgot.

Three months after leaving the Philippines, Rose stopped saying I love you at the end of her messages.

I didn't notice that either.

Four months after leaving, she called twice in the middle of the night.

I slept through both.

In the morning, there was one message.

Please call me. It's Kaelob.

I stared at it.

I started typing.

Then Chloe screamed from upstairs.

I dropped the phone on my bed and ran.

By the time I came back, hours had passed.

I showered.

I slept.

The next day, Mum had another appointment.

And Rose became later again.

I didn't know that while I was trying to hold my family together, hers had already started falling apart.

I didn't know Kaelob was in trouble.

I didn't know Alice was fighting for the company.

I didn't know John and Mary were watching the family they'd built begin to turn against itself.

I didn't know Rose was scared.

I didn't know she was waiting for me.

And perhaps the worst part was this:

She had told me.

The messages were there.

I simply hadn't listened.

Eleven months after I left the Philippines, Chloe was doing better.

Not fixed.

There was no such thing.

But better.

Mum's doctors were optimistic.

Dad finally spent an entire week at home with Rea.

For the first time in almost a year, I woke up and nobody needed me.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

Something felt wrong.

Not frightening.

Empty.

Like I'd forgotten something.

I reached for my phone.

Scrolled through notifications.

Emails.

Messages.

Nothing unusual.

Then I saw a photograph buried among old pictures.

Rose.

The Philippines.

Her face pressed against mine.

Both of us laughing.

And suddenly I sat up.

Rose.

I opened our conversation.

The last message was mine.

Four months old.

I'll call you later.

There was nothing beneath it.

No Rose.

No missed call.

Nothing.

I scrolled upward.

And read.

Damian, I need you.

Something is wrong.

Kaelob found something.

Please call me.

I don't know what to do.

Damian?

I kept scrolling.

My stomach turned.

How had I not seen this?

No.

That wasn't true.

I'd seen them.

I just hadn't understood that one day she would stop sending them.

I pressed call.

The number didn't connect.

I tried again.

Nothing.

WhatsApp.

One check mark.

I searched her social media.

Gone.

I called again.

Nothing.

“Rose?”

I said her name aloud as if she might answer from somewhere in the room.

For eleven months, I'd been telling myself I would call her later.

Later had finally arrived.

And Rose was gone.