Wish You Were Here

by Renee Carlino

  “Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. I don’t even get a cuddle?”

  “We can cuddle at the hospital.”

  “Come here, calm down. What’s going to happen?”

  “You’ll get in trouble.”

  “Ha! Are they gonna put me on restriction? I’ve already been reduced to Jell-O and broth. What will they do next, take away my TV?”

  “Maybe they’ll tell me I can’t stay.”

  He tilted my chin up so we were eye to eye. “Charlotte, are you worried about that?”

  “Of course.”

  “They wouldn’t do that. Plus, my dad is paying for a new cancer wing. They’re not going to kick my girlfriend out and jeopardize getting a fancy new Adam Bramwell Memorial Wing, complete with Adam Bramwell paintings.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  He tensed. “I mean . . . friend. Whatever. Hey, you’re the one who said you were my girlfriend. Remember that little fib you came up with that night at my loft?”

  “I liked that story,” I protested.

  “Me too.” We were silent for several moments before Adam spoke in a strained voice. My face was resting on his chest so I couldn’t see his expression, but it sounded like it pained him to speak. “Why does the story have to end?”

  “It doesn’t,” I said immediately.

  “Then tell me about our life, Charlotte.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well . . . okay, let me see . . . we moved into your loft together at some point. I loved your loft, by the way.”

  “Me too.”

  “So we lived in the loft and then we . . . got married? Yes, we got married. I finally said yes to you.”

  “Of course. I had to make an honest woman out of you. But that’s not why I married you.” The story began to take on a life of its own, with both of us participating. “We got married because we were in love.”

  “Yes, we were in love.”

  “Tell me more. Tell me about the wedding and the honeymoon.”

  “We did our honeymoon first, actually. You surprised me by whisking me off to Paris. We wandered along the Seine and bought trinkets at the bouquinistes. We toured all of the major museums, wandered through Saint-Germain, ate at the brasseries where the American expats used to hang out in the twenties, and spent hours at Shakespeare and Company. Then you took me out on a boat and taught me to sail.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah, on the French Riviera.” I had closed my eyes at that point and was imagining a healthy Adam wrapping a line around a winch as we sailed on the crystal-blue Mediterranean.

  “How’d you know I could sail?” he asked. “Did I tell you that?”

  “I saw a copy of a sailing magazine in your loft that night.”

  “So, I taught you how to sail and you were a quick study?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Is that what you want? Is that your dream, Charlotte? To learn how to sail in France?”

  Don’t ruin this, Adam. I don’t like reality very much right now. “I’m just telling you what we did.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay, go on.”

  “So you taught me how to sail and then later that day we found a little chapel and we got married.”

  “That sounds nice,” he said, but then he went quiet for several moments.

  “It was, Adam. Not just nice—it was perfect.”

  “Hmm.” Several moments passed before he said, “Too bad, isn’t it? Too bad it’s not true.”

  I leaned up and kissed him. “We have right now and yesterday and the night we met. That’s all real to me, and it’s enough.”

  He smiled piteously. “I know you have someone else waiting for you, Charlotte.”

  I swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you have someone in your life. I overheard you and Helen—”

  I put my finger to his mouth. “Shhh. I’m here with you now, Adam. I want to be here with you.”

  “We should get back to the hospital,” he said.

  I sat up on the edge of the bed with my back to him. “Please don’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Please don’t ruin the time we have.” I turned to face him. “I love you. That’s not a story. That’s not a lie.”

  “You shouldn’t. You can’t. You barely know me, and I’m dying.”

  “I know enough . . . and will you please stop saying that?”

  “I’m a charity case to you, but I’m not a fool.”

  “Charity case, Adam? You obviously don’t know me. I don’t even buy Girl Scout cookies. I fell for you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the night we met. I just didn’t think you were into me. I wished that someone felt like they wanted a future with me and loved hearing my fantasties without getting scared off. No one has given that to me, ever. Not until you. That night was the first time I ever felt worthy. You changed me, Adam, and you’re changing me now.”

  With a furrowed brow, he said, “So you feel like you owe me?”

  “We need to get you back for your meds. You’re getting grumpy.”

  I stood and walked to the bathroom to gather our things. Before we left, I took a quick shower and then got Adam into his gown and chair. He sat with me in the bathroom and stared at me in my bra and underwear while I blow-dried my hair near the counter. In the mirror, I saw his face grow penitent as he watched me. Over the sound of the hair dryer, he shouted, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I shouted back.

  “I ruined it!”

  “You ruined nothing!”

  “I loved the story, Charlotte! Thank you!”

  “I love it, too, and you’re welcome!” I still sounded angry, but then in the mirror I could see Adam laughing behind me and it made me laugh.

  “You’re moody, Adam Bramwell!”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” He was still laughing.

  21. Miracles

  It was a miracle, but we made it back to the hospital without anyone knowing we were gone, except for Leah, of course. As we passed her at the nurses’ station she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You get your hair done out on the wheelchair track, Charlotte?”

  I ignored her and just continued to wheel Adam into his room. “See, no one cares,” he said as I helped him into bed. I lay beside him in the crook of his right arm. He held me to his body and for a few minutes it felt like everything was normal, even though we were in a crappy hospital room.

  Even with the faint sounds of machines beeping and the medicinal smells wafting through the room, I still felt like Adam was my boyfriend, like we were just two people in love, lying together in the afternoon for a lazy nap. When I felt him doze off, I checked the Padres game on my phone. Seth sat on the bench for the second half of the game due to a wrist injury. I was tempted to text him but I held back. I would be seeing him in the next couple of days and I was sure I’d have a lot of explaining to do.

  Adam had a rough night. I don’t know if it was because he had overdone it earlier in the day or if it was because he was getting progressively worse. Probably both. He had three seizures throughout the course of the night. After the third, he cried. I held him and rocked him. He wasn’t embarrassed; he was frustrated that he couldn’t control his own body. My heart ached for him. I wanted so badly to be strong but when he broke down and sobbed in my arms, I fell apart, too. I felt robbed, victimized because I wouldn’t have more time with him.

  Both of us were exhausted after that night. We had a couple of mellow days inside the hospital, just watching TV and taking short walks. The day before Seth was scheduled to come back, Adam had the worst seizure yet. He was in his wheelchair when it happened. I couldn’t protect him. He fell to the floor and started seizing, his head smacking the tile. I hit the call button before dropping next to him to try and prevent him from injuring himself further. His spasms were so strong that I couldn’t do anything besides try to place my hand between the floor and his thrashing head. I ended up with two
bleeding fingers and Adam ended up with a gash from his ear to the crown of his head. He felt so guilty about my fingers that he couldn’t even look at me for the rest of the night.

  The nurses bandaged my fingers and wrapped up Adam’s head with white gauze. He was quiet the following day as well, even though I told him over and over not to worry about my hand.

  He said sorry at least twelve times an hour until I finally told him that I would break my other fingers by punching him in the face if he didn’t stop apologizing.

  Early the following day, he was quiet again and I thought maybe he sensed my anxiety about Seth coming back. I hadn’t heard from Seth yet and I was in no place to contact him, so there was nothing to do, really. I selfishly hoped Helen had explained the situation to him so I wouldn’t have to do it myself, even though I had asked her not to.

  Adam sat in his chair and watched me move around the small hospital room, throwing away trash and straightening up. “What are you cleaning for?” he said.

  “Just picking up.”

  As I walked by him, he grabbed my arm and swung me around to face him. He looked weak. His eyes were hollow and the whites had begun to take on a yellowish tint. I touched my thumb to his bottom lip. “You need ChapStick. Let me get it for you.”

  “Wait, Charlotte.” He reached for my arm and gripped it hard. “Let’s get outside. It’s a nice day. I want to leave here and put on normal clothes. Please take me away from this place.”

  “Adam, don’t.”

  “Don’t what? This place isn’t extending my life in any way.”

  “You don’t know that. I can’t take you out of here anymore. I’m scared.”

  He didn’t say anything; he just stared up at me, pleading with his sad eyes.

  “Please tell me you understand.” I bent down and kissed him. Just a peck on the cheek, but he kept his eyes closed for a long time afterward.

  “Will you take me to the bridge? It’s sunny out. I need to get out of this room.”

  He was referring to the long glass-encased footbridge between the north and south towers. Sometimes I would wheel him over there to sit, and he would stare at the cars going by below us. I agreed and took him immediately. When we reached the center of the bridge, I stopped and turned his chair to face the street.

  “After we got married . . .” he said, as I stood behind him, gripping the handles of his wheelchair. He was motionless, slumped over and gazing at car after car as they drove by.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What happened after we got married?”

  “Oh, right. We came back and had a bunch of babies.”

  “How many?”

  “Like, five.”

  “Five? Really? I always thought I would have two.”

  “We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, obviously,” I said.

  His body jerked with laughter and it was a relief. His spirits had been down since the night after we went to the hotel.

  “What are their names?”

  “You chose the names, remember?” It was becoming harder and harder for me to talk as I felt a lump growing in my throat.

  “Five, hmm. Three boys and two girls.”

  “Yep, but they’re all grown now. They have their own families, their own lives, but we still have each other.”

  “Life went by fast,” Adam said. His voice seemed distant. I bent and kissed the top of his head. Without looking, he reached back and held my hand on his shoulder. “That’s what happens when you live it well, right? When you have someone to love? It goes by fast. You blink and it’s over.”

  “You’re making love sound tragic,” I said.

  “No”—he shook his head—“I wouldn’t want it any other way. Tell me about us. What do we like to do?”

  “Paint and sail and eat and drink. Just simple things.”

  “Don’t forget about sex,” he said.

  “Yeah, lots of sex. Before the children were born we were practically naked every second of the day.”

  “I like that.”

  “When they got older, we’d sneak away for weekends and leave them at my mom’s.”

  “What are they like? Our children.”

  “Happy. That’s all we wished for. We put our love first and it just spilled over into them and now they’re happy.”

  Tears sprang from my eyes and ran down my cheeks. Isn’t that what we all hope for when it comes to our children?

  His tone suddenly changed. “That’s beautiful, Charlotte.” It was like he was waking up from the dream. I didn’t want to go back to reality yet, but I knew these fantasies were just to help Adam get his mind off the cancer.

  “I can imagine a long life with you,” he said. “I can imagine what a great wife you’d be. You’re going to make someone a very happy husband.”

  I pulled my hand out of his. “The story is about you and me.” He didn’t say anything; he just nodded and then continued to stare out the window. I bent and kissed the top of his head again, and whispered, “It’s about us. Don’t take that away from me.”

  From the corner of my eye, I caught a figure walking near the end of the footbridge at the entrance of the south tower where we had come from. I turned and froze when I spotted Seth standing perfectly still, staring at us. He had stopped about twenty feet away.

  I straightened my body and turned in his direction like I was going to walk toward him, but I couldn’t move. My feet wouldn’t work. I mouthed the word Hi.

  He didn’t say anything. He looked upset.

  I finally took a step toward him, but he stuck his hand out, stopping me. His lips were turned up very slightly. His gaze moved to Adam, sunken in his chair, and then his eyes were back on mine. Adam wasn’t aware of anything going on behind him.

  He was still facing out the window, silent. Seth’s right wrist was wrapped in a bandage. I wanted to ask him about everything, I wanted to go to him, but before I had the chance, he turned and walked away. He knew.

  As I stood there, cemented to the ground, I realized I had thrown it all away with Seth. Did it matter?

  “Charlotte?” Adam’s voice was urgent. My stomach churned with anxiety.

  I ran around and bent over near the front of his chair. His eyes were wide. By that point Adam could sense when he was going to have a seizure, so I was certain he was going to warn me that he wasn’t feeling well. But, instead, he smiled.

  I scowled. “You scared me. Why’d you shout?”

  He reached for my hand. “You have to take me somewhere. You have to take me now.” He seemed stronger in that moment, more alert.

  “Please, Adam, I told you I’m too scared. What’s gotten into you?”

  When I stood up next to the arm of his chair, he reached for my hand and yanked me onto his lap. “Oh my god, Adam, what are you doing?”

  He pressed his hands to my cheeks and kissed me. “Promise me something, Charlotte?”

  “What is it?”

  His eyes were still wide, searching mine. “Promise me this is the last moment in your life that you will let fear stop you from doing what you want.”

  “What?”

  “Will you do that for me? Stop giving a fuck and take me somewhere right now and promise me you will not be scared of your own shadow anymore. I need a legacy, Charlotte, and I can’t make one sitting here in this fucking chair.”

  “Adam, are you insane?”

  “Yes, maybe, who cares? You were all-in that night. Just take me somewhere because I need to do something besides sit here and die, please!”

  “If this is about your legacy, you have one. The art world is calling you a genius. When they find out who you are, your paintings will be worth millions.”

  “I don’t care about any of that. Please get me out of here.”

  I hadn’t agreed to anything yet. I wheeled him back to his room, where Leah gave him a dose of medication and his lunch of broth and Jell-O. He slurped it up with a smile and then did a wheelie in his chair and said, “Let’s hit i
t.”

  “Fine, Adam, but this whole thing freaks me out.”

  “Just calm down. We don’t have much time; we need to go. We need to hit the art supply store first.”

  “I thought you couldn’t paint?”

  He smirked, “I’m a genius, remember? I’ll figure it out. Let’s go.”

  We hit a Michaels nearby. Adam threw brushes and paints into a basket on his lap as I pushed him through the aisles. Back in the car, he directed me through downtown, until we hit a street near my apartment. “Park here.” He pointed.

  Directly across from us was the mural of the winged man. “You painted that,” I said.

  “Oh, I know. That’s why we’re here. I need to finish it.”

  I hadn’t realized it was incomplete. “But Adam, it’s the middle of the day. Someone will see you. If anyone recognizes you, you’ll make the news.”

  “Who cares?”

  “At least let me take you to my apartment to get some of Chucky’s clothes.”

  “Fine, but we have to go fast.” We went to my empty apartment and grabbed a sweatshirt, jeans, and some slippers from Chucky’s closet. Adam was so skinny that his jeans barely stayed up, so I quickly found a belt and then helped him back down the stairs. He was weak but lighter, so I was able to help him easily.

  I pushed him over to the mural. In his lap, he carried paints and brushes on a cookie sheet. “I need to sit on the ground. I need to finish the bottom part.”

  “It’s gross on the ground, Adam.”

  “Jesus, Charlotte, will you just help me?” I helped him to sit on the ground in front of the mural. “You keep watch,” he said. I sat in the wheelchair in front of him and tried as best as I could to block his hunched figure, sitting near the wall.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  “It’s tough,” he said. “But it’s going to work.”

  Half an hour went by. I checked my watch. “You okay?”

  “I’m done. You can look now.”

  I stood, turned around, and helped him back into the seat. When my eyes finally registered what I was seeing, I stumbled back and steadied myself against the arm of Adam’s chair. He placed his hand over mine. “What do you think?” he asked.