HANNAH SWANSON'S DYING WISH

©2020 Julia Kautt

Free-Photos - Pixabay.com

Groggily, Marlee patted around on her nightstand for her buzzing iPhone. Peering through the dark at the lit screen, her stomach knotted. Hannah, her best friend since 3^rd grade. 2:37 AM glowed at the top of the screen. Marlee took a deep breath. Her finger wavered as she slid the green answer icon.

“Hey, there," she whispered sympathetically. "Handy, you okay?”

“Hi,” came Hannah’s muted greeting. “I’m sorry to bother you so late.” 

 “What's up, hon?”

“I need to talk.”

In the middle of the night? Marlee immediately quashed the unkind thought toward this woman whose days were numbered. After all, she had urged her friend to call her any time. And she had meant it.

Compassion welled in her gut. “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeh. The chemo – it’s worse every round. Especially after the 4^th day.”

“What’s bugging you?” Maybe the whole idea of leaving behind three toddlers and an already-overwhelmed husband?

"Nothing special really. I mean, you know, it’s just hard. All of it. Hard. Harder than I ever expected going into this.”

“Oh, hon! I can’t even begin to imagine.” Fully alert now, she pulled herself to a sitting position, plumped the pillow behind her back against the rustic headboard, and shoved back the duvet with her feet. She criss-crossed her pyjammaed legs. 

 “I’m here. Go ahead. What’s on your mind?” 

They’d already hashed out Hannah’s will, who Matt should get to help with the kids after she was gone, to whom to divvy out her paintings, the funeral, where to be buried. There's more she's not telling.

Silence.

“Well, I….”

Marlee stifled a yawn. And waited.

Had Hanna fallen asleep? Marlee knew her treatments wore her out, yet gave her insomnia. How I hate thee, stinking cancer! Leave my friend alone! Go away!

Dry cough from Hannah’s end. Marlee shifted into a more comfortable position. And waited.

“Oh, Marlee!” Hannah’s shout made Marlee jerk the phone, bumping her elbow on the nightstand. How did that not awaken Matt and the kids?

“Marlee! What am I going to do?!” she shrilled.
“About Matt? About the kids?”

Calmer now. “No. About my mom. I just can’t get her off my mind.”

“It must be especially difficult, not having her with you these last 3 years,” Marlee soothed. “Missing the births of her only grandkids. I know it’s still painful. And now this. But why do you need to do something about her. She's...." Marlee hesitated. She didn't want to be brutal. "She's passed on."

“I’m talking about my birth mom.”

“Oh.” Shoulda seen that one coming. “Yes,” she prompted.

“Ever since I was twelve when Dad and Mom told me I was adopted, I always knew I wanted to find her. But I had to wait until I was 18. Then I met Matt. And we married. Then Carli was born, then the twins. Life just got away from me. And now….”

Marlee ventured, “And now time is running out.”

“Yes,” she breathed, sounding relieved she hadn’t needed to voice it herself.

“So what do you want to do?”

“I still want to find her.” Her voice grew firmer. “I can’t die in peace until I do.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Handy? I mean, your low energy. And think of how it’d affect your biological mom, to connect with you only to lose you.” Assuming you’d find her in time. Assuming she’d even have anything to do with you.

“Marl, you know if it had been you giving up a child for adoption, you’d want to know how things had gone for her.”

“Right. And so would you. But, Hannah, not everyone feels that way.”

Hannah released a long sigh. “Yeh. I know.”

Marlee switched on her bedside lamp, and pulled off her right sock. She gingerly touched her pinky,  still swollen from when she’d banged into the piano leg the morning before. “You still there, Hannah?”

“Mmm hmmm.”

“Whatcha thinking?”

“The idea to hunt for her came to me about two weeks ago. Again. I can’t shake it. No matter how I reason with myself. It’s almost like a divine mission that I can’t rightfully reject.”

“What does Matt say?”

“I haven’t told him. He’ll probably nix it.”

“I imagine.” And he’d be in his right mind to do so. “Hannah, you really can’t expect him to be glad about that. So many angles to consider.”
Hannah jumped in, mimicking Matt’s low southern drawl, “What about your fatigue? Who’ll drive you? It can’t be me; somebody’s got to earn income so we can keep our insurance. Who’ll watch the kids while you’re out looking?  What about your treatments?  What if you don’t find her? What if you do, and she slams the door in your face?”

“Yep, hon. He’ll say all that, and more.”

Marlee heard a hiccup on Hannah’s end. Realized this wasn’t the first.

“Have you been crying?”

Silence. Another hiccup.

Marlee swung her feet off the bed. “Oh, yeh. Matt’s on nights this week, isn’t he, hon? How about I come over.”

“What about Winston?”

“Oh, I’ll lock him in the laundry room. There’s not much that pup can gnaw on in there.” Mental note: remove plastic bin of dirty darks first.

“I really don’t want to trouble you.”

Standing, Marlee laid the phone next her pillow and replaced her pj’s with sweats. She pulled a hoody over her t-shirt and leaned close to the phone. “I’m already awake. Be there in a jif.” Not waiting for Hannah’s response, she tapped the off button and slid into her Nike's. She’d forgotten the other sock.