Just Once

by Lori Handeland

  ‘Right.’ He lowered his arm, stuck his hands behind his back. ‘Stupid question. Are you taking care of yourself?’

  ‘I’m not sick.’

  ‘You will be if you keep going at the pace you have been. Maybe you should take your parents up on their offer to pay for some help.’

  ‘No one’s taking care of my brother but me.’

  She might let her mother help – or maybe not. As she recalled, whenever one of them had sniffled, Mother had slept at her office until the nanny told her the coast was clear.

  Since an offer from their mother to nurse her son wouldn’t occur before the end of days, Hannah didn’t have to worry about how she’d turn it down.

  ‘Why don’t you go out for something to eat? Heath and I will watch the game.’

  ‘You brought something to eat.’

  ‘Get out of the apartment for a while. Go to a coffee shop and read a book. Call a friend and meet for a drink.’

  Getting out did sound appealing. If she stayed all she’d do was eat half an apple pie and listen to the two of them talk baseball. While she did enjoy listening to Charley talk about anything, she should probably stop.

  Sadly, what she really needed to do was work, but she could do it at a coffee shop.

  ‘OK. Thanks.’

  He patted her again. Sometimes, around Charley, she felt like a poodle. If she bit him, would he finally notice her? Probably depended on where she bit him and how hard and if she kissed it better afterward.

  Her face flooded with heat.

  ‘You’re flushed.’ Charley put the back of his hand to her cheek.

  She had to grit her teeth and hold very still lest she rub her cheek against him like a cat.

  Too much animal imagery.

  And now, she was having flashes of other animal imagery that only made her cheeks flush darker.

  ‘Hot in here.’ Hannah bustled around the room, collecting her files. ‘I turned the air conditioning off because Heath is always freezing.’

  ‘I thought you were going to relax.’ Charley tapped her files. ‘Not work.’

  ‘I need to work.’ The entire day had been sucked up with the doctor appointment and then radiation and then barfing from the radiation.

  ‘Have you applied for a transfer from the photo department?’

  Hannah shook her head.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I can’t when Ray’s being so great about my hours. I can apply later.’

  She didn’t say when later would be. They both knew.

  Heath was asleep when they returned to the living room.

  ‘I’ll be back by ten,’ Hannah whispered.

  Charley nodded and picked up his camera. As she left, he took a few shots of Heath, his meds, the used Kleenex, the puke bowl, then he lifted the camera and fired off a shot of her.

  She wore ancient jeans and an equally old T-shirt, no make-up; her hair was in a ponytail. She probably had barf on her elbow and lunch lettuce in her teeth. Whenever Charley took a photo of her she was a mess. Though, right now, she couldn’t recall the last time she hadn’t been.

  Her aunt popped out of the elevator when it opened. ‘Oh, hi, sweetie. Where you going?’

  ‘Charley is with Heath. I thought I’d work at the coffee shop.’ There was one right across from the apartment.

  ‘I came to pick up a few things.’ Carol blew a breath upward, causing the bangs on her new super short haircut to ruffle.

  ‘There’s something I should tell you.’ She hadn’t shared Heath’s diagnosis with Carol yet. It wasn’t something that should be imparted over the phone. Unless it was to their parents, as she’d done earlier.

  The exchange of information took less than a minute, then Carol gathered Hannah into her arms and gave her a hug – quick and businesslike, but a hug nevertheless. ‘You tell your parents?’

  Hannah nodded.

  ‘Are they coming?’

  Hannah shook her head.

  Carol sighed. ‘They’re not right, you know that.’

  Hannah wasn’t sure if Carol meant ‘not right’ in their behavior, or their belief that Heath was ‘off’. Or maybe the not right was a statement of them being ‘off’. Regardless, Hannah already knew. Had known even before this had happened.

  ‘I’m going to have to hire someone for Heath’s position.’

  Hannah bit back an automatic No!

  Carol couldn’t keep doing Heath’s job as well as her own forever. But she was surprised at how panicked the statement made her feel. As long as Heath’s job was waiting for him to pick up right where he’d left off, well … so was his life.

  A stupid belief, a foolish hope, but didn’t she need belief and hope, however stupid and foolish? Heath certainly did.

  ‘I’ll work for you.’

  Carol, who’d headed on down the hall toward the door, paused. ‘What was that?’

  ‘I’ll take Heath’s job until he’s able to come back to it.’

  ‘You know that you could get a job anywhere after working at National Geographic?’

  ‘I don’t want a job anywhere. I want a job at You.’

  She didn’t – shudder – but she was afraid of what would happen if Heath discovered his job no longer waited for him.

  ‘If you leave National Geographic now, you’ll have to start over again when you go back.’

  Hannah shrugged, but only because she couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat.

  ‘If you’re really serious, you’d save my ass.’ Carol, who’d looked tired and frazzled when she’d gotten off the elevator, looked a little less tired and frazzled now.

  She’d done so much for them; Hannah couldn’t be depressed about doing something for her. She wouldn’t be.

  ‘You’ll give notice?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’ Hannah’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat.

  Carol hugged her, no less businesslike than the last hug, but she added a cheek press too. The scent of her foundation, the faint whiff of her perfume still left from that morning’s spritz, was pure Carol. ‘Thank you.’ Then she rushed off.

  Hannah finished laying out a photo spread at the coffee shop. The place was deserted at nine p.m. on a weekday and she draped her stuff over two tables. She’d deliver the mock up to Ray in the morning along with her resignation. She thought he’d understand, maybe keep the door open, but who knew.

  She returned to the apartment right before ten.

  Heath was still sleeping. Or maybe sleeping again. A half-empty teacup sat on the table. The box of Saltines was out and open, though she couldn’t tell if any had been eaten.

  She heard the low rumble of Charley’s voice from the back hall. He was on the phone.

  She went to the refrigerator. Only one hot dog and a small slice of pie remained.

  Charley ate like a Sumo wrestler and never seemed to gain an ounce. He said it was because when he was on an assignment he forgot to eat at all.

  Hannah couldn’t imagine forgetting to eat. Choosing not to was another story. She shut the refrigerator door, wished momentarily for a padlock.

  ‘I’m leaving tomorrow, Fancy.’

  Hannah tried not to listen, but the apartment wasn’t that large. She could have moved out of the kitchen, back toward the front door, but she didn’t.

  ‘Sorry. I meant to tell you I was stopping in DC.’ He paused, listened. ‘You know I’m recording this on my own time.’ He sighed. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

  He sounded annoyed. She wished she could hear the other end of the conversation.

  ‘I’ll take Lisa to Door County, just her and me. You can have as long as you want to yourself.’

  Charley’s wife wanted time to herself when she could have time with Charley?

  ‘OK, baby. I’ll see you soon.’

  Hannah scrambled to sit in a chair in the living room before Charley caught her eavesdropping.

  ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

  She glanced over her shoulder a
nd smiled. ‘Just got here. Everything OK?’

  He tilted his head as if gauging how much she’d heard. ‘I need to get home. I promised.’

  Hannah nodded. What could she say?

  Stay with me. I’m frightened. I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t bear to watch him die.

  If she started admitting those things, even to Charley, when would the panic stop? Charley couldn’t be here all the time. He was here too much already from the sound of things.

  ‘I’ll be back in a week or so. I’m taking the kid to our cabin.’

  ‘Sounds fun.’

  ‘I’ve never been alone with her for more than a few hours, maybe a day.’ His expression became sheepish, as if that embarrassed him, but a lot of men would say the same. That might not be right, but it was the way it was.

  ‘She’s seven,’ he continued. ‘How hard can it be, right?’

  He sounded like he needed convincing and Hannah, of all people, knew how that was.

  ‘Right. Seven-year-olds practically take care of themselves.’

  Later she’d wonder if what happened was partially her fault. Foolish thought. He’d barely seemed to be listening to her. His mind on the phone call, his wife, his child. Not Hannah.

  Never Hannah.

  When he left, he patted her shoulder same as always, then stared at a sleeping Heath with a worried expression before walking out without another word.

  The next time she saw him, everything had changed.

  Frankie

  Charley lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. His face was gray; his lips were white. His eyes seemed incredibly blue.

  ‘Which one?’ she asked.

  ‘Napalm.’

  The napalm dream was one of the bad ones. From what Frankie had been able to piece together in the darkness following the times he’d had it, his company had been under attack by VC. His lieutenant had been killed, the radio operator as well. Their sergeant had called in an air strike, but he hadn’t called in the coordinates quite right. As a result, the napalm had fallen far too close to the soldiers. The napalm had fallen on to some of the soldiers – the sergeant included.

  ‘Where’s Lisa?’ Charley whispered, and her heart lurched.

  ‘Gone.’ Her voice sounded hoarse; her eyes ached.

  ‘Camp. Right.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Forgot. Last time I had the napalm dream she woke me. She shouted “incoming”, you know how she does?’

  Frankie had forgotten that and it scared her. What else had she forgotten about her little girl while she was doing her best not to remember every second of every day that she was dead?

  ‘Should have never taught her that,’ Charley continued.

  ‘She loved it.’

  Lisa would run across the room, either launching herself into her father’s arms when he came in the door, or on to the bed with him in the morning shouting, ‘Incoming!’

  ‘That morning, that dream, the end of it, right before the napalm hit, I shouted …’ His voice tapered off.

  ‘Incoming,’ she finished. It was what he always shouted when he had that dream.

  Which did make her wonder why he’d taught Lisa to shout it in joy. Maybe he’d thought it would help him to stop remembering it with terror. With Charley, who knew? Maybe he hadn’t thought about it at all.

  ‘Yeah.’ He blinked and came back from wherever he’d been, perhaps the jungle in 1972. ‘She startled me and I … well, I’d never forgive myself if I hurt her.’

  Anger rose, flames licking at Frankie’s throat, heat pushing at her forehead. She clenched her hands and fought for calm.

  Charley had done a lot more than hurt Lisa, but what good would bringing that up do? He didn’t remember. He wouldn’t believe her.

  ‘It’s all right.’ Frankie hadn’t meant to say that. Why was she soothing him?

  Old habits, they said, died hard. Or maybe they never died at all.

  He got to his feet.

  ‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with your family, your friends and colleagues.’

  ‘What?’ he asked. ‘Why?’

  ‘You’re sick. Remember?’

  ‘Of … course,’ he said, except his brow furrowed.

  Had the damn radiation caused him to lose that knowledge too? She could not bear to re-tell him every day that he might be dying.

  ‘Mass in the brain.’ Charley touched his head. ‘They radiated it.’

  Frankie let out a soft sigh of relief. ‘That’s right. Next there’ll be chemo. You’re going to need some help.’

  ‘But …’ His confusion deepened. ‘I have you.’

  ‘I’m not …’ she began, then stopped, uncertain herself.

  There were many things she was not.

  A nurse. A caregiver. A lady of leisure.

  His wife.

  ‘I need you,’ he said.

  She walked out of the room, then out of the house. She kept walking, no idea where she was going until she reached a playground – new school, she’d never been here before, no memories of the place, thank God, she had enough of those dancing through her head – and sat on a swing.

  Night was falling. The place was deserted. Could she stay here forever?

  No. When morning came and the kids spilled from their buses, they’d be scared of the old lady on the swing, crying.

  He’d never said he needed her.

  Loved her. Adored her. Worshipped her. But need?

  Never.

  Because he hadn’t needed her. If he had, he never would have left.

  Frankie scrubbed the tears off her cheeks. This had to stop. All of it.

  She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called Hannah again. She nearly bungled the phone when Hannah answered.

  ‘Where are you?’ Frankie demanded.

  ‘DC.’

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Her voice was too loud in the silent playground. She needed to keep it down or someone in the neighboring houses would call the cops.

  ‘Why would I kid you?’

  ‘Why would you leave your sick husband in one city and fly to another?’

  ‘Didn’t you get my note?’ Rustles, movement and tiny thuds from Hannah’s end revealed she was unpacking.

  ‘“I can’t?” What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘Seems self-explanatory. I can’t take care of Charley.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My brother. He … died.’

  Frankie was well aware. The photographs Charley had taken of Heath Cartwright’s battle with AIDS had won him another goddamn Pulitzer. They’d been published in several major magazines, as well as in a book that was on the New York Times Bestseller List for light years. Charley had donated his advance and his royalties to AIDS research. The attention his work brought to the disease had resulted in a lot of donations. Not long after, the landscape of AIDS research changed.

  Because of Charley and his photographs of Heath? No. Though Charley’s groundbreaking study had reached a lot of people and perhaps made them see, for the first time, the agony of not just the dying but of those watching them die.

  All that attention for a man Frankie didn’t know while she’d been mourning a child no one seemed to remember but her had infuriated Frankie. Stupid to be angry with Heath; he’d had a bum deal.

  But so had Lisa.

  ‘I took care of him, beginning to end,’ Hannah continued. ‘It was excruciating. I can’t watch another man I love die, inch by inch. I just can’t.’

  ‘So I’m supposed to?’ Frankie stood and the swing bopped her in the ass. She began to pace. She could not sit still.

  ‘I didn’t think you loved him any more.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Frankie said, too fast.

  ‘Then what’s the problem? I seem to recall you saying you hoped he died screaming.’

  Silence fell over the line. Had she said that? She’d said a lot of things back then. Who could blame her?

  ‘You’ve got your revenge,’ Hannah continued. ‘Don’t
you want to watch?’

  Who was this woman? When had she changed from the pudgy, adoring waif Charley had married into … whatever she was now? And why? Because of Heath? Or because of Charley?

  ‘Listen,’ Hannah said briskly. ‘I’ve got problems here that I have to deal with. I’ll be back. We’ll see how he is then.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘I’ll let you know.’

  ‘I have problems of my own. Work of my own.’

  ‘Get help.’

  ‘I tried. His brothers still aren’t talking to him. His army buddies are in worse shape than he is.’

  ‘Colleagues?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘The ones I knew who are still working are working. The ones who aren’t are old. Why don’t you call the ones you know?’

  ‘The ones I know are still working too. And they’re … well, you know how they are. Like Charley. Always on the road to the next war zone, natural disaster or gorgeous landmark that everyone needs to see ten photographs of right now.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Frankie said. ‘Hear ya.’

  It felt weird to commiserate with Hannah, but it also felt good to talk to someone who understood. Someone to whom she didn’t have to explain Charley Blackwell.

  ‘I don’t know why I thought any of them would nurse Charley.’

  ‘Nurse!’ Hannah blurted as if the word were new. ‘I’ll get you one.’

  ‘What I need is a lawyer,’ Frankie muttered.

  ‘Go ahead. It’ll take you longer than he’s got to get any action that way.’

  All her warm, fuzzy feelings of commiseration vanished.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ Frankie demanded.

  ‘Same thing that’s wrong with you. Charley.’

  Frankie sighed. Arguing was getting them nowhere.

  ‘You said you two hadn’t been getting along.’

  A distinct chill came over the line. ‘I did?’

  ‘To Charley. At the hospital. Is something going on that I should know about?’

  ‘Not really. I want him to take it easier. He’s Charley. He won’t.’

  Silence descended. Frankie waited for Hannah to say goodbye or maybe just hang up but she didn’t.

  ‘You’ll stay with him?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘I don’t …’

  ‘Remember those pictures of Lisa that Charley took?’ Hannah blurted. ‘From the instant she was born until …’