‘I SHOULD BE very cross with you.’ Lola opened the door of her tiny Inglewood studio apartment, embarrassed that Jake would see the almost-closet she lived in, and simultaneously trying to control her erratic heartbeat. She’d received a strange call from him, asking her to be free on Saturday. No clues about why. And nothing from him since.
Now he was standing in the doorway, hair slightly damp from a recent shower, smelling fresh and clean and appetising. The grey T-shirt accentuated his toned body, the jeans underlining the casual clothes he’d told her to wear. ‘You should not have asked Cameron if I could have the day off without my permission.’
‘So you said on the phone. Twice. But you’d gone AWOL with the dogs, so I had no choice. In fact, the words I used to her were, “If Lola wanted the day off on Saturday, could she have it?” At that point I didn’t know if you’d agree to this. Isn’t everyone supposed to have two days a week off anyway?’
‘In the real world, yes. In Cameron’s world, not so much. Anyway...what’s the big surprise?’
‘You deserve a day out. I thought we could have a trip down to the beach. Then...’ Jake glanced at his shoes then back at her, and she got the distinct impression he was having trouble asking her whatever it was he was asking her. ‘My parents are preparing dinner for us.’
‘Your what? You want me to go with you to see your parents?’ What the hell?
Maybe ‘Let’s see what happens’ really had been a marriage proposal? No?
No.
And in a pink polka dot sundress she was hardly dressed for a dinner with his parents.
His eyebrows rose in a question. ‘Big deal?’
Yes. Huge damned deal. Especially after everything she’d told him. ‘It depends. Why do you want me to go with you?’
He shrugged. ‘You said I should go see them. So I’m going. This is all your fault...’ When he realised that wasn’t going to work he gave her a smile that he must have known would have her saying yes immediately. ‘Lola, they’re nice people. Besides, I thought you might like the drive out. I can show you around the area, seeing as you’re new here and all.’
So basically he was acting on her advice and he wanted her to ride shotgun. ‘You want support? Sure. Say the words. Ask me and I’ll think about it, but don’t use me as an excuse. Dr Direct has suddenly become Dr Coy—and I’m not sure how I feel about that.’
‘Dr Direct? Really?’
‘Yes, too direct sometimes but, yes. You say what you think. Honesty is a good thing.’ She should try it herself once or twice.
‘That’s my philosophy too. Usually.’ Actually, it was funny to see him try to ask for something. In the time she’d known him he’d been very good at giving, at anticipating, at looking after everyone, but he obviously wasn’t used to asking for things for himself. That made her heart squeeze a little, but not enough that she was going to take pity on him.
‘Okay. Lola, I’d like you to come and see my parents. I think we’d get along better if we had a buffer. You. This was your idea. Please.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘That was almost... Try harder next time. And I’m coming along as a what, exactly? A mysterious friend?’
‘Yes. Well, not that mysterious.’
‘Your friend.’ It was a statement, not a question.
And clearly not a proposal.
She laughed to herself, because there was a tiny part of her that had died a little. Hope.
She had no place hoping for something that was so out of reach for her right now.
He came over and took her into his arms. ‘Aren’t you? A friend?’
‘I’m not sure what we are. To be honest, I don’t know how to react around you.’
He frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘Because of what I told you the other day.’
‘What I heard was that you’re a young woman out living her life. Nothing wrong with that. I’m just not sure where I fit in.’
You and me both. ‘Friends, like we just said. That would work.’ Maybe that was enough for now. Although she had a feeling that where he was concerned she’d never have enough. That was what frightened her. ‘Okay, I’d love a day out. Which beach should we go to?’
‘Well, we could detour via Santa Monica. Grab some lunch, take a walk down the pier.’
‘I don’t know...’ She grimaced. ‘The last time I was at a beach I got bitten by a man-eating plant.’
‘No...the last time you were on a beach something entirely different happened.’ He tipped her chin up and planted a kiss on her mouth. ‘Which I seem to remember you enjoyed so much you had me do it all over again in the shower...and in bed...over and over.’
With the memories of their last night on Nassau swirling in her head, she blushed. Blushed, and a hot rush of need swirled with her thoughts. ‘Oh, God. Yes.’
‘Later maybe?’ His lips brushed hers. ‘Hmm. Later definitely. But first I promise I’ll look after you and protect you from the man-eating plants and aquatic life.’
‘Okay, I’ll just get my bag.’ She turned away from him, realising, too late, that it wasn’t the sea life she needed protection from. It was the damage he would do to her heart.
* * *
Lola had been to Santa Monica many times before. She loved the shopping and the relaxed beach community atmosphere, particularly down the promenade, but coming here with Jake gave it even more appeal. As usual there were street performers playing music, some dancers and a couple of jugglers wowing the crowds. Having bought the best salted caramel gelato Lola had ever tasted, they stopped for a while to lick the drips from their fingers and watch the entertainment.
As one of the jugglers threw three lit fire sticks into the air she nudged Jake. ‘There you go. If ever brains turn out not to be your thing, there’s always a place for you here.’
He laughed. ‘Well, it would be nice to work outdoors every now and then.’
‘And there’s balls, sticks and hoops—a lot of diversity in the role.’
‘Probably wouldn’t pay as well as my current job.’
‘But look at the smiling faces.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Hey, I make people smile. Sometimes, if I’m not careful it’s a wonky smile...but still...’ He grabbed her arm. ‘Come on, let’s hit the pier.’
You make me smile, she thought, and then tried not to think and just live in the moment. Because she didn’t get many moments like this, when she wasn’t worrying or working. Usually both at the same time.
The afternoon flew by in a whirl of laughter. Joining the crowds of tourists, he dragged her onto the Ferris wheel and pointed out important landmarks, they swam in the sea and she pretended all over again to be attacked by a killer plant just so he could rescue her. They ate freshly baked pretzels from a stall and he tried—and failed—to get her onto the roller coaster. She was keen to walk and swim and enjoyed the carousel, but turning her upside down might have made the pretzel reappear. and she wasn’t sure he’d be impressed by that.
Just as they were making their way back to the car his phone rang.
‘My mom,’ he explained, looking at the small screen. ‘I’ll just take this. Hang on.’
As he stepped away from her Lola watched his whole demeanour change. There was no smile now. His shoulders had started to hunch and his jaw clenched as he gripped the phone. His voice rose. ‘No. No, Mom, that’s not okay...’ He paused to listen. Then, ‘I don’t care. I want them to take him to The Hills, to my clinic. For God’s sake, Mom, he’ll be seen immediately, he’ll be looked after better. This time I’m not taking no for an answer, okay?’
Lola laid her hand on a taut shoulder and smoothed a palm down his back. Jake turned and gave her a weary shrug, shaking his head at the phone with irritation. ‘Mom. Listen to me... Okay, put them on. Hi, it’s Dr Lewis here, yes, I’m his son. Yes, I know his condition. Absolutely not. Take him to The Hollywood Hills Clinic, I can get him seen much quicker. I’ll meet you there.’
He slid the phone into his pocket and stood there, taking several deep breaths.
‘Your dad?’
‘Turns out even the thought of seeing me gets him worked up. His breathing’s off, his oxygen sats are down. They’re taking him—’ He exhaled his irritation as he started to pace up and down. ‘Why did I say we’d go for dinner? I know he gets stressed just at the thought of me. I shouldn’t have arranged anything.’
Lola knew what a burden it was to be the absolute focus of someone else’s hopes; that it felt as if you carried sole responsibility for a parent’s happiness—and in Jake’s case their health too. She also knew that at some point you had to unshackle yourself from that, to stop taking the blame for their problems. ‘This is not your fault, Jake.’
The look he gave her was bleak as they marched towards the car. ‘Well, it sure as hell isn’t anyone else’s.’
* * *
‘How’s he doing?’ Jake dashed into the HDU and found his mom, pale and red-eyed, by the side of the large bed. Her fingers absentmindedly worried the handles of her worn-out bag. She was dressed in a shabby beige coat he remembered she’d been excited about buying years ago. Her shoes were scuffed and a little battered. Like her heart. Looking after an obstinate old fool who preferred to eke out a tired life than take a hand-out from his son had worn her away at the edges.
Anger rose in his gut. His dad might have been too proud, but his mother could have had her pick of anything in Macy’s. She’d have liked that, he was sure.
And, hell, that was not what was important right now.
‘He’s a lot better than he was. He got really out of breath and worked up—he’s been in a lousy mood all day. He went a little blue and I was...well, let’s just say I’m grateful we’re here. The nebulisers are definitely working and it’s a really nice place. Thank you, Jake... Oh!’ His mom looked surprised to see Lola behind him. Why the hell he’d asked his mom to cook them dinner he didn’t know. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He’d never mentioned the word ‘date’, of course, but his mother’s head would be working overtime, trying to join dots that didn’t exist. ‘Hello, you must be...?’
‘Lola.’ She stepped forward with a smile and gave his mom’s hand a shake. ‘I hope it’s okay for me to be here? Jake said—’
‘It’s fine for you to be here.’ He grabbed her a chair and had her sit next to his mom. ‘This is my mom, Deanna, and my dad, Bill.’
His father lay propped up by pillows, his breath rattling in and out, with an oxygen mask over his face. His cheeks were dark hollows, his eyes scared and piercing. He’d lost more weight, Jake noticed. Constantly fighting for air did that to a man.
Jake laced his voice with as much positivity as he could muster. ‘Hey, Dad.’
‘Son.’ The word was breathed, pained. Oxygen was dragged in. Out. In. Out. A conscious act, desperate. ‘Got. Your. Way. In. The. End.’
‘Dad, please don’t start. I was trying to help. I didn’t want you sitting for hours in a cold cubicle struggling to breathe until someone was free to see you. It’s so much better here. See, you were admitted straight away. Whatever you want, just ask. I’ve got this.’
His dad didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. He just turned his head away and closed his eyes. His silent comment: I don’t want anything from you.
And right now Jake didn’t care what his dad thought about being here. It was better than the public hospital and Bill Lewis deserved the best. But Jake understood that being there would put a dent in the old man’s pride.
He picked up his dad’s admission notes and scanned them. Blood pressure was erratic, blood gases were haywire, his lung function was severely compromised. This visit was just one of many he’d probably have over the next few years. COPD was a long, slow struggle of fighting infection and trying to halt further deterioration.
There was silence as everyone looked at their feet. It was so damned sad that they had nothing to say to each other at a time like this. He went for the mundane, to keep the peace. ‘How’s the house? Garden?’
His mom’s face brightened at the distraction, a bit of normality. ‘Oh, you know, same as always. I’d like to spruce the place up a bit, but...well...’ She nodded towards his dad. ‘You know...’
He did. The wallpaper in the dining room had been exactly the same all Jake’s life, the carpet too—too much upheaval, they’d said, to change it all. Too much dust—and no respite for a man with damaged lungs. The dining suite must have been thirty years old, the upholstery fraying on the seats.
Jake nodded. ‘Fresh air helps—if it’s not too humid. How about trying to get outside? You’ve got that nice outdoor furniture—sit out a while.’
Mom shook her head. ‘The garden’s got away from us these days—it’s too big to deal with. And things grow so fast. I couldn’t sit and look at that mess.’
‘Then I’ll come round and sort it out.’ No excuses. ‘You can sit out and feel the sun on your back.’ She was too drawn and pale these days, looking after an obstinate man who put pride before any kind of enjoyment.
‘That would be lovely, Jakey. Thank you. We were so looking forward to you coming for dinner today. Such a shame...’ His mom’s voice died away and silence fell again.
Meanwhile, Lola sat to his left, her hands in her lap, knees tight. She looked about as uncomfortable as Jake felt.
He checked the oxygen flow, read the heart monitor. Again. Pulse rate was fast but settling. Blood pressure a little lower than before. Sats still low but rising. ‘So, Dad, how’re you feeling now? That medicine doing its magic?’
‘Can’t. Complain. Son.’ A shallow breath. Heaving chest. Another breath. But his skin was starting to pink up. ‘How’s that job?’
‘Just fine.’
‘Good.’
This was how it was. His father never commented on how he felt and they kept conversation to anything other than personal. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. No. Not right. He could think of a million things to say but they wouldn’t listen.
He thought about his old home, the photos that lined the walls. Pictures of him when he was a little boy, high on his dad’s shoulders. Of the three of them at a baseball game. Christmases. His birthdays. Of his graduation. In all of them they were smiling. So proud. Even though money had been woefully tight on the salaries of a part-time nurse aide and an untenured teacher, they’d been happy. A fist clamped tight round his heart. At what point had they gone from a unit of three to strangers? Would they ever get it back?
Was it too late?
‘So he kicked towards me, grabbed me tight and swam hard to the beach.’ Lola’s voice brought him back—she was showing them her war wound. ‘It was a plant, would you believe it? A plant can do that much harm?’
‘There are a few plants you need to avoid in California that you may not have in London. Jake’ll tell you all about poison oak. He once—’
‘Not necessary to tell Lola all my secrets, Mom. Especially the ones that involve me being naked.’ He turned to Lola. ‘I was four at the time. We were camping.’
‘Sounds painful. But I bet you were super-cute then.’ She smiled. Heat flashed across her eyes and she swallowed, the glimmer of a private smile on her lips. Then her gaze caught his and the word ‘naked’ had stoked his memory. And he was surprised at the heat that flashed through him. Intense. Immediate. She turned back to his mom and dad. ‘Well, he won’t admit it, but I’d like to say he saved my life.’
His mom looked impressed. ‘That’s my Jakey.’
Lola nodded and smiled, knowing damned well he hadn’t saved her life. He knew what she was doing, trying to make him out to be some kind of hero. It was a kind gesture. Smoothing things over, making light of them, her smile ready for everyone. She had an easy manner that seemed to cut through the tension. It had never occurred to him to bring any of his friends to meet them before. At first it had been due to—he was ashamed to realise now—embarrassment of the lowliness of his origins in comparison to those of the other medical students. Then anger had overshadowed the embarrassment. Then there had seemed little point, because there was nothing to say when he came.
Lola smiled at his mom. ‘And you were a nurse, Mrs Lewis? Is that right? Is that why you decided to be a doctor, Jake? Following your mum’s footsteps into medicine?’
‘Oh, no.’ His mom blushed and waved her hand in front of her face. ‘Jakey was far too clever to follow me. We knew that from when he was a little boy. He did everything faster, better than the other kids. He was singled out at school. They have a name for it now, gifted and talented. But back then he was just top of the class in everything. His father used to give him extra lessons to keep him from getting bored.’
‘That’s enough about me, Mom. Thanks. We don’t want to bore Lola to death.’ But his mother wasn’t listening.
‘We don’t see enough of him now, of course. He’s so busy.’
‘I know, Mom. I’m sorry.’
‘Your...mother...misses...you.’ It was the first thing his father had said for what felt like hours. It was a barb. It wasn’t warm, like his mom’s joking. It was a dart targeted at Jake’s heart. And they both knew it. Staying away had been the way to avoid all the arguments, but it had made coming back all that much harder.
The temperature on the unit felt like it had plummeted. Things could go in one of two ways now, depending on how he handled this. He chose compliance. ‘I know, I’m sorry, things get busy. I come when I can.’
‘Not enough.’ His father shook his head. ‘You should come home more.’
‘When you’re better you could come to see me—a trip up to the city? Mom would like that. I could pick you up. It would be easy. You could get out of the house for a while.’
‘What’s wrong with the house?’
‘Jake, I’m fine. It’s fine. Bill, leave it. Please.’ His mom’s lip quivered, and just like that the tension spilled over.
‘It’s not fine, Deanna.’ His father was shaking now, gulping air. ‘Not at all.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with home, Dad. I just think it would be nice for you two to get out a little. We could take a drive. Have lunch out. Go to the ocean. Mom likes the ocean, remember?’
‘I’m fine, Jake.’ His mom’s voice began to shake too. She’d always trod a fine line to keep the peace and made resolutely sure never to take sides. It must have been so hard for her. Every time. ‘Please—leave it. Don’t go upsetting your father.’
His dad’s shoulders heaved up and down. ‘Still...not seeing you means we...don’t have to listen to all...those damned instructions...you bark at us. Get a new car. Buy this. Change the kitchen. I’ll buy that. Like we can’t manage.’
Lola stared down at her hands. Easy how things could go from hero to zero once he and his dad were in the same room.
‘I’m sorry, Mom, Dad. I know I should let you be.’ Show gratitude, Lola had said. ‘I just want the best for you. I want you to know how grateful I am and that’s the only way I can think of showing it.’
‘Oh, Jakey, we know you’re grateful. You don’t have to do anything. Nothing at all.’ His mom gave him a weary smile, popped her hand over his father’s tight fist and waited until he’d relaxed a little. ‘We’re both so proud of you.’
And so he sat and tried to control the anger that was swirling inside him. And not to focus on the pain in his mom’s eyes and the slump of her shoulders and the shabby coat. He tried hard not to notice the old shoes and the fraying handbag. He tried even harder not to listen to the rapid inhalation of his father’s broken lungs, and tried not to think about all the things he could do to make their lives easier. If only they would listen.
Keep a lid on it. Gratitude. At the very least, be nice.
As they spent the next ten minutes chatting about nothing he focused on smiling and nodding at the conversation. He listened to Lola’s attempts at jokes and he liked her even more for trying. Any other woman would have excused herself by now or thrown him I want to leave looks, but not Lola. She just carried on asking questions about his childhood as if there wasn’t a thick cloud of doom hanging over them all, as if she didn’t notice the dreariness and the atmosphere.
Gradually his father improved enough to take the mask off a little and, feeling reassured about his progress, Lola and his mother disappeared to get coffees. So Jake was left with his dad and the anger and the frustration, and he tried to suppress it. He wanted to try gratitude one more time, but the words wouldn’t come because it wasn’t their way. It wasn’t how they did things.
He should have left it, buttoned his lip, but it was all too much for him to ignore. ‘So, I get it that you have too much pride to use my money, Dad, and I know it’s all just accumulating in some account somewhere and will all come back to me when you’re both gone, just as you want. But look at Mom. Just look at her. She’s tired, she’s getting old, she needs a break. You both do. When was the last time you went on holiday?’
His father’s face sagged with ill-concealed frustration. ‘How can I go on holiday like this? Get real, Jake.’
He still tried to keep a lid on his temper, but it was wriggling loose at the edges, out of his grasp. ‘It doesn’t have to be hard. First class gets you decent help. I could hire a nurse. Two. Somewhere with great fishing. Mom could relax, and while you’re away we’ll organise some house renovations. Fresh paint, the garden—’
‘For heaven’s sake, Jake, how many times...?’
A little bit anger more wriggled loose, and he was just grateful Lola wasn’t there to witness it. He tried to keep his voice quiet but, goddammit, sometimes it got loud. ‘Hear me out, Dad. Please. I don’t want you getting worked up. I know you don’t want me to help, I know you say that providing all those years is a father’s job, but it’s a son’s job too. How do you think I feel when I see you struggling? When I can help? When I can make things easier—if not on you then on Mom? I could organise a home-care nurse and give her a break...or just some housekeeping help. Doesn’t she deserve a break?’ They didn’t need to be here, doing this. If his dad had better housing he wouldn’t get so sick. If he got better treatment, these attacks would be fewer. If he’d sought help at the beginning... If...if...damned if...
His dad didn’t have much time left and for the most part he could be well enough to travel—a short way, with help. They needed to be ticking things off a bucket list—or at the very least living in a place that wasn’t making his condition worse.
‘Dad, you remember when we went on vacation to Yosemite? D’you remember what fun we had? How much Mom laughed? You said you loved it when she did that. When was the last time you saw that?’ And despite every attempt to keep it locked in, his anger finally wriggled free. He pressed his hand over his dad’s, something he’d never done before. His dad’s skin was paper thin, his fingers were frail and cold, but inside that man, Jake knew, there was a determined heart—it may have been damaged over the years and fighting to keep going, but it was full and proud. Hell, he’d gotten his grit from his father after all. ‘Just stop being so damned stubborn. Please. You might not want to enjoy the last few years you have, but she deserves to. She wants to go out. She wants to have nice things. Stop trying to look after me. I don’t need it. I’m all grown up now—it’s my turn to look after you. I need to do this. You need to listen.’
There was a silence except for the rhythmic whirr of the oxygen cylinder, the irregular intake of breath. His father looked at him with dark sunken eyes, lines of ribs showed under his pyjama top, his thin wrists gripping the sides of his duvet. He looked and he kept on looking.
Jake looked right back. At the man who had taught him how to ride a bike and how to fish, how to change a car tyre and how to put up a shelf straight. And then at what he’d been reduced to—for him. And the anger solidified into a hard physical lump in his chest. ‘Oh, and just for the record, Dad, you don’t get the monopoly on love either, you know. You don’t get to make hard sacrifices for me without knowing this one thing; I’m very grateful. Really. I know I could never have got where I am without you, that’s why I want to help. Why I have to help.’ Jake took a wild leap. It was raw and angry but it was said. ‘I love you, Dad.’
With that, Jake turned away. There was nothing more he could do or say. His throat was sore. His chest felt as if it was going to explode. He didn’t know if it was enough—because how could words be enough after his father had sacrificed his health? But it was all Jake had—that and his repeated offers to be there for them if they needed him. That, after all, had been what he’d been trying to say for the last ten years through the anger and the fights. Just that. I love you.
And, damn it, just as Lola and his mom bustled back into the room, all polite smiles and coffee cups, he could have sworn he heard his father say, ‘I know, son.’ But he wasn’t sure.
He didn’t turn round to speak to them, he turned back to look at the man he’d adored with every childish breath. His eyes met his dad’s again and they held. The older man’s softened as Jake felt his soften. And he felt the strength of this once mighty man emanate from what was left of his broken body and pass to him. From father to son. A handing down, a rite of passage. A gift.
Nothing was said, but something gave. Finally. It wasn’t a battle won, it was a war ended. ‘Let’s make it work, Dad,’ he whispered, under the pretence of fixing the oxygen tubing.
And there, for a moment, was his dad’s hand on his. A pat. Warmth in those bluish fingers and a fragile smile. The pride, though, his dad still had a good grip on that. And so he should, Jake thought. There was nothing wrong with being proud of what he’d achieved. ‘Right you are, son. Starting now.’
Lola’s hand was on his arm and she gave him a wary smile. He didn’t know if she’d heard anything of what had been said between himself and his dad but she gave no indication of her thoughts. ‘Jake, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve had a call. I need to get back to Bel Air.’
His heart was swollen but his mind was immediately on Cameron’s pregnancy. ‘Sure. Anything serious?’
‘Depends on what you mean by serious. In her eyes, yes. She’s a perfectionist and wants to get things right first take. She’s got an important final shoot tomorrow and she wants to go over her lines,’ Lola explained with a shrug. ‘I should have said no. But I can’t...I just...I’m so sorry. You know how it is. Work comes first.’
‘But...’ What was the point in arguing? He would take her to Bel Air and then come back here. End of. Although it was usually him breaking dates for emergencies. It was uncomfortable to feel it from the other side.
‘I said I’d be there within the hour if possible.’
‘Sure.’ He was about to excuse himself from his parents, just for the time it’d take him to get her home.
But, as if she’d read his mind, she interrupted. ‘No.’
Her gaze travelled from him to his dad and back. ‘You stay here. They need you here. I can make my own way.’
‘I’ll call you a cab at least. And—well, thank you.’ He almost said more, but didn’t. How could he? The fantasy he’d had about ending the day together in bed fizzled out. He’d wanted to show her his appreciation of how she’d helped him today—although that fantasy had also included him having a spectacularly great time too. It would have to wait until...until another time when they could both carve space out in their diaries.
One more night shoot and they’d have to work extra-hard at carving out that time because their paths wouldn’t cross like they did on set. He’d be back to a full-time clinic and on-call roster. Cameron had already prepared him for the time-suck her pregnancy would be for Lola, at least in the short term. And with that and her work and her stubborn determination to win a battle only she was fighting, it would be hard to carve out anything meaningful.
In fact, if he looked at it rationally, her leaving now was a good thing—it meant they were both committed to the important things, they could sharpen their focus on their careers and consign this, whatever it was that they had, to a happy memory and not a distraction. And yet there was a strange twist in his chest at the thought of this coming to an end.
‘Okay, Lola?’
‘Yes, thanks. I’ve had a smashing day.’ She gave him a sort of wobbly smile that meant she was sorry but...and he understood. Because work always did come first.