Chapter six
Ben
July 2022
“You’ll never get laid with a face like that,” Amy says.
“What?” I heard what she said, but I’m sure I’m hallucinating.
“That tragic bottom lip. It’s practically on the floor.”
She laughs then, her face lighting up, thinking she’s got one over on me. My sister-in-law has perfected being a pain in the ass. Every year, she seems to get better at it. Her humor gets darker, her tone drier. I’m never sure whether to hug her or throw her out.
“Getting laid is not on my priority list,” I mutter. “Not even on the radar.”
“It should be, Bex wouldn’t—”
“Stop.” I hold up my hand, palm in her face. She snaps her teeth. “I know what you’re about to say, and I don’t want to hear it.”
She picks up an apple from the fruit bowl on my island and throws it upward. It hits the ceiling light, which rattles as if ready to fall. Her shoulders rise to her ears; her eyes jump to the sky.
“Anyway, what’s wrong?” Her subject change is so damn obvious, not wanting to take responsibility for her near miss.
“Another rejection,” I say with a sigh.
“Who?”
“Brentwater Pharmaceuticals. They said it’s too niche,” I tell her. “Not scalable. Not commercially viable. Apparently, grief doesn’t generate substantial return.”
Her expression says it all; she doesn’t have to speak. She wants to launch into a lecture on ‘manning up’ and to stop whining. So, I double down.
“I can barely get past the reception desk to speak to anyone about Bex’s retreat. How can I see this through if no one will speak to me?”
Amy clears her throat, the way a teacher does when about to impart wisdom. I brace myself for impact.
“First of all, stop being a drama queen.” She walks over and sits down next to me on a stool. “You’ve achieved a lot in a few weeks. You have the plan, the premises, and the grants in process. Don’t fall down the rabbit hole.”
“I’ve sunk every penny I can into architects, lawyers. What if it’s all for nothing? If I’m just holding on to my grief because I can’t imagine life without her.”
The panic that visits in the night appears here, right now. A hot ball of dread burns in my chest that I won’t make this work.
“It’s for Bex,” she says, quietly. “It’s never for nothing. And it’s for you, for the kids. Don’t pretend this isn’t about saving yourself, too.”
“I’m beyond saving.”
“That I’ll ignore this time. Tell me again what you have in place.”
We sit for a few hours discussing everything I’ve achieved since I stepped off the plane from Chicago. My meetings in the past few weeks with the local government went well. They ate up my twelve-page business plan outlining how the retreat will support families with a terminal illness diagnosis.
My contact linked me up with relevant funding schemes for land grants, start-up funds, and anything that could help. They love that I’ve sunk my own money into the project. Money saved for a rainy day is now being gambled on something that matters.
More funds became possible after speaking to the National Health Service. There are pots of money there for the taking. What I’m proposing ticks boxes for so many, but with all of it, there is one caveat. One issue that could bring down the house of cards I was building. I need a major donor.
Without a corporate backer underwriting phase one, the land grant won’t release. Without the land, the rest collapses. The government agencies want collateral, someone else who can pick up an invoice if I can’t pay it.
Two rejections so far, straight out nos after the meetings. Many others didn’t even bother to respond. After working at lightning speed for weeks, seeing the plan that's been in my mind since I lost my wife start to come to life, hitting a brick wall has knocked me off center. I thought everyone would be as excited as me. That one meeting would prove how important it is that this facility opens.
I twist the band on my finger. Amy’s eyes drop to my hand. She doesn’t say it, but I know what she’s thinking—it’s time to let her go. But until I do this for her, I can’t. I let Bex down so many times in life, I won’t do the same in her death. I’m going to see it through to the end. No matter what it costs me.