Beautiful Lies

by Heather Bentley

  I give his hand a gentle squeeze. “Anything for you, Thomas.”

  With an appreciative smile, he responds, “Thanks, Christina.”

  I finally turn my attention to CJ in the chair next to Thomas’s bed, and gather up as much politeness as humanly possible. “Can I speak to you a moment out in the hall, please?” I don’t give him the chance to respond before I turn on my heel and walk out the door.

  I make my way down the hall, far enough to be out of earshot of any of the patients, before I turn to him. Crossing my arms on my chest, I ask sharply, “What are you playing at?”

  “Christina …” He reaches out for me, but thinks better of it and drops his hand.

  I hold my own up in protest. “This is not happening.”

  “Christina …”

  I lean in and pointedly whisper, “No, CJ. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you do not get to play it with these kids. Especially Thomas.”

  His words are cautious, slow. “I’m not playing any game. I’m here because I want to help.”

  “Well, I think this should be discussed with the volunteer coordinator.” I take a step but he blocks me.

  “Christina …” He reaches to touch me, but again pulls back.

  With my hands fisted at my sides, I cut him off. “Don’t. Just don’t. These kids are in the fight of their lives, and it’s our job to give them every opportunity to get better. That includes surrounding them with people who would do anything in their power to help them get through this living hell.”

  “And you don’t think I’m that person.” It’s a statement rather than a question.

  “CJ …” I look up to him with apology in my eyes, because I know whole-heartedly he is, and I know Thomas and the other kids grew to adore him during his visits. And with every day that passes, I’m seeing more and more that this is my fault. Selfishly, I let him get close to me when I’ve known all along that one day I’d be leaving. It wasn’t fair to either one of us. I can’t make that mistake again and I’m afraid that will happen if he’s here.

  He moves aside as I make the short walk to my office, not even bothering to shut the door because I know he’s close behind. I dial the volunteer coordinator, as he stands patiently on the opposite side of my desk, just a few feet from his gift that remains exactly where he left it.

  A few minutes later, I hang up the phone. She kindly informed me that CJ had passed the background check with flying colors and there is no reason to deny him the opportunity to volunteer.

  Without admitting defeat, I turn his way. “Anna can introduce you to the other volunteers and get you acclimated. Keep in mind that you are no longer here as my …” I motion with my hand back and forth, and he nods in understanding. “There is much more to volunteering than playing video games and goofing around with the kids. You are here to work and be of help in any way that you can. But most importantly, stay out of the way of the doctors and nurses.”

  “Of course.” Hands clasped in front of him, he nods again.

  “And it would be for the best if we kept our distance as well.” I fight back the pain of those words.

  There’s a pause before he nods once more and responds assuringly, “Of course.”

  We look at each other in silence until he finally turns to leave. Just when he’s at the door, I call him back.

  “CJ.” He turns to me, one hand on knob. “I just want you to know, you were right. What you said that day in the apartment … I will eventually leave.” I let those words absorb, then finish. “This is for the best.”

  His lips pursed, he nods a final time then leaves my office, closing the door behind him.

  Over the course of the next few weeks, CJ quickly proves his worth as a volunteer, just as I knew he would. He’s here everyday as the sun rises and stays through until lunch. I can’t help but wonder how he’s able to hold down his job at the distillery at the same time. I casually ask Anna one day and she confirms what I suspected, he’s working nights. He’s got to be exhausted. It’s not your problem, Christina. I’ve barely spoken to him since he started, and that was only to ask him to stop leaving me gifts and notes on my desk, to no avail.

  Most days I come in to find a small dessert, like a piece of gourmet dark chocolate, while other days it’s a tin of my favorite tea or a book by an author he knows I like. There’s always a note with the gifts, but I never read them. I want to be strong enough to throw them away, but I’m not quite there yet. I tuck them all under a notebook in my desk drawer, waiting for what, I don’t know.

  He has respected my request for space and has just let me be, and I hate myself for starting to wish he wouldn’t. Being around him every day, watching how much he cares about the kids, never once complaining about the dirty work involved is starting to wear me down. The nurses love him. The parents and patients love him. I love him.

  I shake my head and push the thought away as I finish up the last of my work before lunch. As the elevator doors are about to close, a hand appears, pushing them back open. It’s CJ.

  “Sorry. Do you want me to take the next one?” He takes a step back, apprehensively.

  “Oh, no … no, that’s not necessary.” I immediately move to one side of the small space while he steps in and takes his place at the other side.

  As the doors close, he breaks the heavy silence. “How have you been?”

  “Fine. Good. You?” My response is automatic, courteous, never taking my eyes off the elevator doors.

  When my words are met with silence, I look his way. “What?” I ask with honest concern.

  His voice is quiet. Strained. “You haven’t read any of my notes, have you?”

  “I … no …” I shake my head, embarrassed. His look of defeat eats at my resilience.

  The elevator stops and the doors begin to open. With a hint of hurt to his voice, he responds before stepping out. “If you had read my notes, you wouldn’t be asking me how I’m doing.”

  My mouth hangs open and he’s gone before I can respond. Not that I’d know what to say anyway, but I do know one thing. I’ve pushed this too far.

  When I leave for the day, a large envelope with CJ’s notes is securely packed in my tote.

  I kick off my shoes as I lock the door to my sitting room. Seated on the floor with my legs crossed, I dump out the contents of the envelope, take a deep breath, and unfold the first one.

  Today I am thankful for wi-fi so Thomas can play his brother in Minecraft from home. And I wish I could touch you.

  My chest tightens as I quickly reach for the next folded paper.

  Today I am thankful for the look on Emma’s face when she watched Wall-E find that plant in the old fridge. And I wish I had never doubted you.

  Today I am thankful for disinfectant. That’s all I have to say about that. And I wish you would just look at me.

  Today I am thankful for Dr. Carroll and the songs he makes up for each of his patients. And I wish you would believe me when I say I never touched that girl.

  Today I am thankful for how happy the kids were after Carly Fierce stopped in for a surprise visit. And I wish I could tell you how amazing you are for making that happen.

  Without thought, I bring my hand to my chest as I grab yet another.

  Today I am thankful for taking Thomas outside to the covered patio so he could watch the rain. And I wish you were there to share that moment with us.

  Today I am thankful for being slimed by Jacob at his “No More Chemo” party because it meant he got to go home. And I wish I could kiss you.

  Today I am thankful for you and all that you make possible for these brave kids. And I wish you’d stay in the same room with me long enough so I could tell you that.

  The notes don’t seem to end, but I have to stop. I’m not sure how much more of a reality check I can take.

  What am I doing? Staring at my ceiling, my thoughts racing, it hits me full force that I can no longer stay away from this man.

  This is what you wanted, C
hristina. A man who stands by you.

  He was fighting for me all along. Even when I was pushing him away. A part of me wants to jump in the car and show up at Eric’s apartment and put an end to this break-up, but it’s late, and I’m too far outside of the city for that to make sense. But I now know one thing for certain.

  Tomorrow morning, I get my man back.

  I’m up early. I spend a little extra time on my hair and make-up and make sure to wear my navy pencil skirt and cream blouse with the draped neckline. It fits me like a glove, and I know from the past look in CJ’s eyes, it’s one of his favorites. I grab my matching tote and head down to meet Max.

  Stepping out of the elevator, I notice it’s quieter than usual. I chalk it up to the early morning hour, but just as I’m stepping into my office, I’m pushed in from behind and hear the door close. When I swing around, I’m met with an achingly distraught Anna. My stomach drops, and my throat swells in panic.

  Without thinking, I drop my bag to the floor and bring my hands to my face.

  “Who?” I can barely get out the word, the anguish in that one gasp crystal clear. No matter how many times we’ve been through this, it never gets easier.

  Anna covers her mouth with the back of her hand and sharply shakes her head, physically unable to utter a response. But she doesn’t need to. Only one patient here could affect her this deeply to render her speechless.

  I violently swing the door open and run toward Thomas’s room, the noise of my heels hammering through the hall as I go. His door is open, but the curtain is pulled shut, and it’s eerily quiet. Only a few slow beeps come from one of the many machines that take up space in his room. I pull the curtain back just enough to see Thomas, pale and weak, surrounded on all sides by family.

  “What? No … when? What happened?” I run my hands through my hair and pull.

  Jackie turns to me. She holds a palm to the top of her son’s head with one hand while she reaches the other out toward me. I fold my hand in hers as she pulls me forward. She gives me a weak, pained smile as understanding hits me full-force.

  My eyes hold hers as a strained whispered, “No,” escapes my lips. “No. No.” I’m shaking my head, looking from her to Thomas then back again. She squeezes my hand, but doesn’t speak, because she can’t. Her face is a sheet of tears, much like her husband’s and everyone else’s in the room.

  My own tears are silently falling as I gently lift my hand away to pull her in for a deep hug. She instantly breaks into a sob, clutching my shoulders as the pain rattles her chest. I hold her tightly and lock my knees, knowing that I am the only one keeping us upright. As much as it hurts me to see the life leaving Thomas, it’s nothing compared to what I imagine this woman is feeling right now. Not even close.

  I hear others quietly crying around us, but I don’t let go. I will give this woman, this family, every bit of strength I can offer in this dark hour. She finally pulls back at the same time I feel a hand on my shoulder. Tom Sr. is looking down at us with more pain in his eyes than any parent should ever know. I wipe my cheek and turn her into his arms, taking a step back to leave the room and give them privacy.

  “Stay.” I turn back as Thomas’s parents make room for me at his bedside. I simply nod in appreciation and step into the empty space.

  Over the next few hours, Thomas’s pain medication is increased as machines are slowly turned off, reducing the incessant beeping and pulsing that only serves to increase anxiety in the small space. The hospital priest has been called in to bless Thomas and pray with the family. Drinks and small snacks are wheeled in, none of which are touched.

  Thomas’s breathing remains slow and shallow. Every tube has been removed, and all that remains is the heart monitor. It takes everything in me not to focus on the machine that is essentially providing a countdown to the end of Thomas’s too-short life. Although the sound is turned off, I want to take the expensive piece of metal and smash it to the ground. Tell it how much I hate it and all it stands for.

  Thomas’s parents begin speaking to him softly. His father has moved to the opposite side of the bed where both parents stroke his hair and tell him that it’s okay to go, as they kiss his thin face, pale arms, and cool hands. His brother lays his head on Thomas’s stomach, hands gripping him so tightly his little knuckles are white. I watch his shoulders shake as he sobs into his big brother’s belly, and I know this is a memory that will haunt me forever.

  So many times I’ve heard people refer to a beautiful view as breathtaking, but they’ve got it wrong. Watching this family fall apart in front of my eyes, living a moment they’ve dreaded for years, physically takes my breath away. I place my hand to my chest, making sure it hasn’t actually caved in, because the pain I’m feeling for these people would have me believing otherwise.

  Jackie tells her “beautiful boy” again and again that he is loved and that he’s not to worry about his brother because she and Daddy will always take care of him. Tom tells him how proud he is of him and how in awe he is of his brave little man. He promises him to take the family zip-lining through a jungle and never make his brother eat cauliflower. Thomas’s little brother isn’t able to get a word out over his continuing sobs.

  It’s not much longer until a voice is gently heard announcing, “It’s time.”

  Everyone but Thomas’s family pulls away from the bed. I take the opportunity to hold one of his small hands in my own, kissing the top for the last time, and lean in to his ear.

  “You’ve got this, buddy. Now go climb your mountain.”

  I move down the hall by memory, my vision blinded by tears. When my ankle twists on my high heels, I put my hand out in hopes of reaching the wall before I crumble to the floor. I never make it to the wall, or the floor. I’m instead delicately lifted and carried the few steps to my office. I hear the door close at the same time a voice hovers over my ear whispering, “I’ve got you, Christina. I’ve got you.”

  CJ sits on the couch, holding me tightly. Barely a moment after we’re settled, I latch on to his shirt and begin to claw and pound at his chest as heaving tears pour down my face. He takes my abuse, never once holding me back or telling me to stop. When my fighting momentarily recedes, he wraps one hand around my head and the other around my waist, and begins rocking me slowly as I release another round, of what’s sure to be many, tears.

  I don’t know how long we sit like this. From the second I saw the look on Anna’s face, I’ve lost all sense of time. Nothing exists outside of the burning pain and sense of unfairness I’m feeling for Thomas and his family right now.

  I pull back from his chest as my crying slows, allowing CJ to wipe away my tears and place a soft kiss on my forehead. I tilt my head back and look into his eyes. For the first time in weeks, I’m looking into the eyes of the man I can no longer deny that I need in my life. That I am in love with.

  I know I needed to be strong and protect myself, but I’m exhausted by it all. Thinking of how much I’ve ignored his attempts at reconciliation, doing whatever necessary to just be near me, causes my tears to break free once again. Losing Thomas has reminded me not only how short life is, but what a fool I’ve been.

  “Easy, babe. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He begins lightly rocking me again.

  He thinks I’m still crying for Thomas, which is only partly true. I take a harsh breath and rush the words out before another round of sobbing begins. “I’m so sorry, CJ. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He pushes a stray piece of wet hair behind my ear, shushing me. “We don’t have to do this right now.”

  Ignoring his words, I bring my cheek to his shoulder and continue on. “I was trying to protect myself. To be strong.”

  “I know. That’s why I was giving you space. I didn’t want to force you.”

  “I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of living like this. Waiting for a day that may never come. I don’t want that anymore. I just want you back.”

  He pulls me from his chest to cup my face in his hands, and I feel h
is nose run alongside my own. I hope he’s not wanting to look into my eyes right now, because they’re scrunched up tight, fighting to hold back all of the emotions this day has brought.

  “Good, because I’m yours, Christina. I am all yours. I never stopped.” Our lips are so close I feel him take a deep breath. I’m waiting for him to kiss me. I need him to kiss me. But he doesn’t. “Look at me. Christina, I need you to look at me.”

  I blink my eyes a few times to clear my tears as he says, “I know this day has been hell, but if I learned anything today, it’s that this can’t wait. I am in love with you, Christina. Totally, utterly, fucking in love with you.” My chest, that only moments earlier felt empty and hollow, fills in a rush of emotions that warms my body and fills the ache. “I’m not expecting you to say it back. In fact, don’t. I just need you to …”

  My hands warm as they wrap the back of his neck. “I love you too, CJ.” As my tears temporarily subside, I whisper, “I love you, too.”

  In the midst of all the pain that surrounds us, we both smile, and I finally get the kiss I have been waiting for.

  Today is Thomas’s funeral. I slip on my heels and straighten my black sheath dress while giving myself one last pep talk before we head to the church. Keep it together. You cannot show him the dignity he deserves by melting into a puddle. What would Thomas say right now? And, without a second thought, I whisper to myself, “Let’s do this.”

  I’m about to leave CJ’s room when I feel a hand slide across my hip. I don’t hesitate to turn his way. “You ready?” he asks. I take him in, wearing the beautiful tailored, black suit I had my stylist put a rush on. He’s beautiful and he’s mine. A wave of guilt rises for thinking so selfishly on such a sad day. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” God, I love this man.

  I slide my hands down his lapels. “You didn’t upset me at all. I … I looked at you and thought how amazing you look and then it hit me why we’re dressed like this and …”