Oh, Lucy

Chapter Eleven: Rush

I can't help but tap my feet anxiously as my nurse Celia undoes the IV, eager to get home. My father was coming home tonight from New York and my mother, in an attempt of acting like an actual mother, decided we should have a family dinner to celebrate his return. Yet sadly today of all days, the clinic had been swamped and the nurses were being worn thin.

"Hot date?" She comments, noticing my fidgeting.

"Something like that." I reply jokingly, offering a polite smile. "Thank you. See you Monday." I say and then am on my way home, with no time to even wait for the post-IV fatigue to settle.

I head out the door into the waiting room and lo and behold come face-to-face with Vincent Dumont-well more face-to-chest. He reaches out to steady me and I feel my head spin at the sudden jerky movement.

"Whoa, Mason. You okay?" He asks and I nod dismissively, pushing him away.

"Yeah, I'm great. Gotta go, kind of in a rush." I state, but he doesn't let me go.

"No, hold on a second. Come sit down with me, you can't drive like this anyway. Whoever you're meeting can wait a few minutes."

"I'm fine." I rebuke but he's too stubborn to reason and guides me to the waiting room chairs.

"Why are you in such a rush anyway?" He asks after we've sat and I decide that it wouldn't hurt to tell him, giving us a topic for small talk while I wait for the fatigue to lessen.

"My dad gets home today and my mother has decided that the Masons are a loving, wholesome family and the first step to perpetuating this façade is to have a family dinner." I mutter and immediately catch myself when I see the look on his face. "Uh, I mean-" I start but he waves me away casually.

"Nah it's cool, I can relate. It's just weird to actually hear someone say it aloud I guess." He explains and I nod slowly. "How are your parents reacting about all of this though? It must be hard to adjust." He continues, changing the topic to my Huntington's.

"Well my mom was supportive in her own way in the beginning but she's so busy with her new TV show and the twins that she expects me to handle it by myself and only comes in when she needs to sign a form or get a progress report from the doctors heading the trial. And my dad, he's a whole different story. He's trying to show he cares but he's never in town enough to really offer anything but his money and a supportive text every once in a while." I explain, looking down at my hands.

"And I mean I totally get it. But..." I start, unsure how to explain the longing feelings in my chest. I loved my parents and I know that if it wasn't for their high social standing and large incomes, I probably wouldn't be receiving my treatment in a high-end private clinic with comfortable arm chairs and complimentary snacks. Yet, sometimes I wished they'd show their support in a way that wasn't monetarily-based, yearning for a reassuring group hug or a heart-to-heart or something. Something to show me that they actually cared about me, and not about making themselves look good by playing the roles of the caring parents.

"But you still want them to be here. To actually prove they love you." He guesses and I snap my head up to look at him questioningly, surprised that he could relate.

"Don't worry I've been there, too. My dad... he's always so busy with his company that he's never around much, either. He's paid for only the best when it comes to my mom's treatment and care. Best nutritionist, best physical therapist, best PAs, best specialists, best medication... but at the end of the day I just wish he'd show her he cared enough to be here, I know that'd do her better than any drug."

"How is she by the way?" I ask, wanting to know more about the woman whose life sounded much like the future that awaits me.

"It's hard to say. She has her good days where she can button up her own shirt and even cook without difficulty. But then there are days where she can't even take a step without falling down and we have to restrain her to keep her from hurting herself. It's been difficult. Recently, there's been less and less good days." He admits, looking away forlornly. I was stopped from replying by the sound of my phone ringing. I hold back an eyeroll as I slide the screen to answer the call, immediately met by the sounds of my mother berating me for not being home yet.