Mitigation

Matt shrugs his shoulders and resumes walking. “Truth be told, Mac… I’m not really sure why I’m here. When I got into the office this morning, Miss Anders told me what happened. I guess Macy called her.”


“Yeah, I vaguely recall telling Macy to call the office for me.”

“Well, I called Macy back to get more details. She was beside herself fretting about you. Said you hadn’t called her, and you weren’t returning her calls. She wasn’t sure whether to get on a plane to fly to be by your side or not, but then she said you sort of told her you didn’t want her there, so she didn’t want to intrude. I’m telling you… she was a mess.”

Guilt courses through me for doing that to Macy, and honestly… I don’t even remember doing that. I think I was operating in a state of shock. I make a note to call her as soon as I finish eating something.

Matt continues. “Anyway, I decided to take the worrying away from Macy and told her I would fly down here to help you out. I made a quick stop at home to pack a small bag, and here I am.”

“Thank you for coming,” I say in a small voice. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” is all he says, and then the subject is closed.

Matt walks me through the line but nothing looks good to me, so he proceeds to fill my tray up with a variety of items. After he pays, we find a seat and he points at the food. “Eat.”

“You always have to be in control, don’t you?” I grumble, even as I pick my fork up and take a small bite of mac and cheese.

Damn, that’s good.

Matt just gives me a knowing smile and watches me while I eat. If I look like I’m ready to slow down, he points at the food and that’s all he has to do to urge me to eat. When I’m done to Matt’s satisfaction, I push the tray off to the side and lean back in my chair. I’m exhausted, and I scrub my hands over my face in an attempt to revive myself.

Finally, I focus on Matt, who is patiently waiting for me to talk… if I want to.





“I don’t know what to do,” is the first thing I say to him.

He gazes at me in understanding and sympathy. “Tell me what’s going on, and we’ll talk it out.”

I inhale deeply, sucking all the oxygen in that I can hold. After slowly letting it out, I tell him, “The doctor is going to come by tonight and talk to me in more detail about her condition, but from what they’ve told me so far, she isn’t going to recover. She has minimal brain activity… The machines are keeping her alive right now. I think tonight… I think he wants to talk to me about taking her off life support.”

“Did your mom have a Living Will or any other health care directive?”

I knew this question would be coming from Matt—he’s a lawyer after all—but it’s like a sharp slap in the face when it comes. Tears well up in my eyes, and I shake my head in the negative.

“I’m so stupid,” I say vehemently. “I’m a fucking lawyer, and I never thought to have my mom do one.”

Reaching across the table, Matt takes my hands and attempts to soothe me by rubbing them gently with his own. “Don’t do that to yourself. It has no purpose here to dwell on those things.”

Pulling my lower lip between my teeth, I bite down hard to feel some type of physical pain that will force the emotional tears back. It works and, with a few blinks, the wetness dissipates.

“Did you and your mom ever talk about this?” Matt asks.

“No,” I say miserably, staring at the Formica table in front of me. “Not even when my dad died. He had a heart attack. It was so quick… We never thought about something like this happening. I never thought I’d have to make these decisions.”

Matt’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Okay… let’s figure out what your mom would want then. Tell me about her?”

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