Can't Go Without

by Angelisa Stone

  After nearly an hour in the waiting room, the double doors open and Leah walks out slowly, looking pale and frightened. One look at the four of us, and Leah busts out in loud, violent sobs. The four of us dash to her side. I reach Leah first, holding her to my chest as she cries uncontrollably.

  “Doll, it’s okay. I’m here… we’re all here,” I say, trying to console her and stop her from trembling. “Do you need to sit down?” I ask, leading her to the chair. She sits down in the chair, shaking and sobbing. I kneel in front of her, wrapping my arms around her waist as she cries into my shoulder.

  “Leah, what’s going on?” Jill asks, her face full of fear.

  “Can I… can I… talk to Tristan for a second?” Leah asks through crying gasps of breath.

  Jill nods. The three of them walk away, slowly and suspiciously, eyeing us every step of the way. I hold her until the crying subsides and her trembling body slows. “Tristan, I—”

  “Leah, I know you’re hurting, but please, let me say this before you say anything,” I beg, holding her face in my hands. “Leah, I love you. I love everything about you. I’ve loved you for so long—before I even realized it myself. I know we had a crap start. But I don’t care. I want to love you. I want to be in love with you, for so many reasons,” I say, my eyes filling with tears for the first time in ages.

  “Leah, I love your spirit and drive. I love your snarky sarcastic comments, the way your nose crinkles up when you think something is funny… and when you think something’s gross.” I’ve released some sort of floodgate in her, because the tears keep flowing, more rapidly now. “I love how we started in shambles, and how we just keep fighting to put us back together. I love how strong and brave you are and how vulnerable and delicate you are… Leah I love you… every single part of you.”

  Continuing, refusing to lose my courage, I add, “I want to be with you… every day… every night… every morning. I’ll live here in New Hampshire with you… or in Charleston… but it has to be with you. With you… nobody else… not now… not ever. I love you.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks, her eyelashes damp with tears.

  “I just spilled my guts. I’m pretty fucking sure, Franchetti,” I say, kissing her with everything I’ve got, reiterating everything I said and felt in one single kiss.

  “Okay,” she says, nodding.

  “That’s it? That’s all I get. ‘Okay?’ You’re gonna need to do a little better than that,” I say, chuckling, silently agreeing with Jill that Leah is hands down the most stubborn woman in the entire world.

  “The surgery—”

  “I know you just went through a lot, and you’re probably in a lot of pain, so I won’t push you to talk about it now. Just please promise me—”

  “Just listen, would you?” she says, cutting me off and wiping her eyes. “They have to do a lot of blood work before you can have surgery, ya know? Well, I came in yesterday for my pre-op workup and testing.”

  “Okay, that’s good,” I say, running my hands up and down her arms.

  “When I got here today, they started prepping me for surgery. I had to drink this sour shit to settle my stomach, standard stuff like that. Well, my blood work came back… and… and…”

  Terror covers Leah’s face. Jill and Shayla gasp, apparently eavesdropping from across the room. My skin crawls in fear and panic. Whatever she’s about to tell me, scares her, scares her so badly that she can’t speak, can’t formulate the words to reveal the horror.

  “What? What is it?” Jill asks behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder. Jill’s face and her father’s mirror each other’s in terror, sending chills down my spine.

  “I didn’t… I can’t have a hysterectomy today,” Leah says.

  “Why? What’s… what happened?” Leah’s dad kneels down next to me, taking Leah’s other hand in his.

  “They can’t do surgery on me, Dad,” she says, letting go of his hand and putting hers around his neck.

  “Leah, honey, what is it?” he asks, tears welling in his eyes. I feel the wetness on my cheeks as well, knowing that whatever she tells us now that we’ll get through together. “Leah baby,” he says, “whatever it is, we’re going to get through it. We’re going to beat it, baby.”

  I suddenly understand the fear and terror. Leah’s future is uncertain; she’s always known she had that damn gene, the Cancer gene. Adrian said that she’d be fine. Fuck him. Fuck this. My tears flood; I can’t hold them back. This can’t be. No fucking way.

  “They can’t take out my uterus… because… because… I’m going to need it for the next nine months,” she says, her face lighting up.

  Jill is the first to react, jumping on her, hugging her ecstatically. Leah’s dad puts his head on Leah’s lap, crying freely and openly. Meanwhile, I’m staring stunned at the scene unfolding in front of me. I’m speechless, motionless, reactionless and breathless. Holy fuck, I did not see that coming.

  Shayla pounds me on the back, and says, “Well lookie here, Superman does save the day in the nick of time.”

  “Guys? Guys? I need some time with Tristan,” Leah begs, maneuvering out of their embracing clutches.

  After promising them all that we’ll meet them at Jill’s for a celebratory dinner later that night, Leah and I are alone in the waiting room, partitioned off from the rest of the families.

  “Well? Are you mad?” Leah asks, dropping her head. Before I can answer, she continues, “Listen, I know I said that I didn’t want a baby… and I didn’t think I did. But when they said that I was pregnant, nothing ever made more sense to me in my whole life. I want this baby. I want to be a mother… but Tristan, you don’t have to be a part of this bab—”

  “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” I say, covering her lips with my finger. “Leah, I couldn’t be happier. I rushed in here today to stop you from having surgery. I came here to tell you that I want to be a dad—a father to your child—our kids. You just beat me to it. I want this baby. I want you. I want it all”

  “Are you sure?” she asks, holding my hand to her chest.

  “I’m sure, Leah,” I say. “For three years, I’ve chased girls, money, and Hell even my father’s approval, knowing full well that none of those things were ever going to change how I felt about myself, about my life.”

  Tightening my hold on her hands, I continue, “I never realized it, but it all makes sense now. Those things never made me feel better, because all those things I was chasing before don’t matter, Leah. You matter. We matter. Our baby matters. All those other things—they’re just things. You… me… us… our baby—that’s real. That’s love, pure and simple.”

  “Tristan, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, longer than you can imagine,” Leah admits. “I can’t believe it’s possible, but hearing you say all that, makes me love you even more.”

  “I can walk away and turn my back on a lot in life, but Leah, you are the one thing, the only person in this world that I can’t—absolutely cannot—go without.”

  “By the power vested in me by the state of South Carolina, I now pronounce you, husband and wife… you may kiss your bride.” The congregation erupts in applause and catcalls.

  “Ladies and gentleman for the first time ever, I’d like to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Franchetti.”

  Give me a fucking break. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I’m as pussified as Adrian now, did you? Christ, give me a little credit would ya? Vincent and Lanette Franchetti just got married here at the Oasis. I was the best man, as I should’ve been last year at this time too, but hey, who’s holding grudges at this point?

  Leah and Jill were bridesmaids, Piper the maid-of-honor. Adrian gave Lanette away, while Rory performed the nuptials. Apparently, you can get ordained or some shit like that online. Rory was pumped to perform the rites and once he’s set on something, damn does he get it done. His hotel opened last month. He hasn’t had a vacancy all month—booked every night. Sydney’s been coming around a lot late
ly too. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with the two of them, but Rory’s as happy as pig in shit these days.

  Adrian and Kathryn are expecting a boy in a few months. Kathryn wants to name him “Nigel” or “Cato.” I’m hoping it comes out dickless, to save them the trouble of raising a dickless asshole with a name like “Nigel” or “Cato.” Christ. I’m not sure where I went wrong in raising my little brother, being his role-model, but man, I definitely made a wrong turn somewhere.

  Piper just started her senior year at the College of Charleston. She and Jose are still going strong. I’ve heard some whisperings here and there about him moving back to Costa Rica after graduation. Ade and I think she’s planning to go with him. We’ll see how easy it is for her to move when we have her chained to a palm tree out back. Ain’t no way my baby sister is moving to Central America alone.

  Jill and Shayla are on their fifth round of insemination. If Jill doesn’t get pregnant this round, then they’re going to try some other form of impregnation. I’ve offered a couple times, but that only gets me a swift kick in the balls or a blow to the gut. I prefer the gut for future reference, in case you were wondering.

  My mom’s still in Portugal. She’s apparently hooking up with some 40-year-old man with a yacht in the Mediterranean. Evidently, the “cougar life” works for her. It was hysterical when she learned to Skype. I’d never seen her that happy. Piper went to visit her on spring break and actually came back liking her. I’m glad too. They need each other. Leah taught me that, among other things. Girls need their mothers, just like boys need their fathers. Well, not me, but most boys need their fathers.

  My mom was right about my dad. He didn’t do one thing when he found out she left him and divvied up all of his money. Guess he knew he was beaten—for now anyway. My dad’s like Rocky; you can’t really ever beat him. He’ll always come back looking for another fight. Oh by the way, when my mom gave me all that paperwork, guess who was on the payroll? Samuel Phillips, that’s right. Sam-the-Jackass was working for my dad. What slime balls, taking all that money from Leah, especially after she paid him back. I never told Leah. I figured she’d been hurt enough by that jackhole. I’ve got some plans to take him down too. Ade and I are just biding our time right now. Turns out, Ade’s got a pretty devious mind—when Kathryn’s not in earshot. Lest not forget, we’re all O’Donnells; we aren’t exactly saintly.

  As for Leah and me, we’re great—better than great. She sold her gallery in New Hampshire and bought a small gallery over by Rainbow Row. It does fairly well. Her art isn’t as eclectic as it was up north, but she still enjoys creating things, even with a southern flare to it. We haven’t gotten around to tying the knot yet, but it’s on our “to do list.” We’re in no rush. It’ll probably happen some day when we’re out walking on the street and we pass the courthouse. We don’t need all that ceremonial shit; we’ve got each other.

  Leah’s busy all the time, between the new gallery and the twins. Oh yeah, when I do something, I do it twice as better than anyone else. Take that! Mothers need daughters; fathers need sons. I figured we’d just have both at the same time. One boy. One girl. I’ve always been an overachiever. Get in and get it done. Tap it hard and tap it well. Leah has a mother-daughter relationship back, and I’ve finally got a father-son relationship to be proud of.

  I didn’t get any sort of say in the twins’ names—not one vote. After Leah caved and let me name our Black Lab, Lucifer, I had to relinquish all human naming rights. Everyone on the beach loves Lucifer. They think it’s hysterical. Leah thinks they’re laughing at me. I say fucking let ‘em. I’ve got a gorgeous woman, two great kids, and a kickass dog. They can laugh their asses all the way back to their sad, stupid little lives.

  Leah named Marianne after her mother and Michael after my middle name. I like it. Who could argue with that? I’d like to challenge any dude to argue with a pregnant woman, carrying two kids around for nine long, sweltering months in the South. You can’t do it. Just can’t be done. I learned quickly how to nod and say, “Sure, whatever you want,” always armed with a pint of ice cream and Oreos.

  Needless to say, I was wrong about having kids. I used to loathe the thought of it, cringe at the idea of being responsible for someone else, giving up my life for someone else’s. I was wrong—dead wrong. And damn, was my mom right. You can’t really explain what it’s like to have kids. You just have to experience it. Jump in head fucking first and enjoy the ride. Holy fuck, do I recommend it—definitely something you can’t go without.

  Who is Angelisa Stone? Angelisa Stone is a typical Midwest wife and mom, frazzled by parenting and housework, and overwhelmed with sports schedules, doctor appointments, and three-dimensional creative projects due “tomorrow morning.” Angelisa dreams of white sandy beaches, clear-blue waters, and Midori coladas in hand, but realizes that her loving husband and four not-so-perfect children are her real dreams-come-true. Writing and reading are her passions, and she hopes (and prays with her fingers tightly crossed) that readers will find enjoyment and escape through her words and characters.

  Email Angelisa for fun chatter and banter, giggles and chuckles:

  angelisaauthor@gmail.com

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  @Angelisaauthor https://twitter.com/Angelisaauthor

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  http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18176355-can-t-go-home

  My family: Thank you for bearing with me and understanding when I spend hours on end tapping away at the keyboard, responding only with random “uh-huhs” and what not. Your love, support, and patience helped make my dreams come true. Having a family who believes in you and loves you throughout all of your journeys makes everything worthwhile and possible.

  The Book Enthusiast Promotions: Thank you for all of your promotional expertise and advice. The only following I have gained is because of you. Please contact The Book Enthusiast Promotions if you’re looking to market your novels. http://bookenthusiastpromotions.com

  Fictional Formats: Thank you for making my book so beautiful and visually pleasing. Thank you for bearing with my technological inferiority. My covers are artistic masterpieces that I just cannot believe are really mine; they’re stunning. Fictional Formats is an incredible company, creating the most gorgeous books and eBooks. Check them out! You won’t be sorry. https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats

  My friends and beta readers:

  Jenny Aspinall: I am so thankful that I trusted you with my writing secrets and mysteries. Without you, the first book in the Oasis Waterfall Series, Can’t Go Home, wouldn’t have done as well as it did. I owe you my heartfelt gratitude and appreciation.

  Stephanie Bailey: Gazoo, I just love you. Our chats, our laughs, and our vulgarity brighten many of my days. Thank you for always reading whatever I send your way and offering your kind words. You are insightful and wise. I know that 2014 is going to be “your year,” filled with moments that will take your breath away. I’m lucky to be one of your “quarters.” I can’t wait until the day we watch a football game together.

  Mari Brown: Thank you for taking a chance on me and helping me get started in this crazy writing world. Readers: You will fall in love with Brown’s sweet read Destiny’s Detour.

  Michael Burhans: You truly are “the bomb,” even though it’s an outdated phrase. It fits you literally and figuratively. Thank you for helping me with my technological inadequacies and always reading whatever junk I send your way. It’s nice to have a male perspective on my writing. You have the kindest and most giving heart. Maybe that’s why it’s acting up so much lately—you’re using it too much!

  Juliana Cabrera: Thank you for making me such beautiful and visually pleasing teasers to market my book. You are a truly talented and remarkable friend to have.

  Virginia Tesi Carey: You make me feel like the world’s best comedienne. Thank you fo
r always supporting me and trying to get my book noticed. I appreciate all you do for me and for all other indie authors.

  Debra Celentano: You are a Godsend, my little butterfly. You are truly a remarkably generous and thoughtful person. Thank you for all that you do. You’re really helping me “plow” through the indie world.

  Gitte Doherty: You put me “on the map” and I cannot thank you enough. I truly appreciate all that you have done for me. Your insight is truly inspiring.

  Shannon Girard: Thank you for always offering advice and ideas, and for always making me laugh. I’m grateful for your encouragement and compliments.

  Mallory Grant: Thank you for pushing me and forcing me to do writing sprints with you when it’s the last thing I want to do. Readers: Check out My Real by Mallory Grant. You will just love Bailey and Andrew.

  SK Jean: I need you in my life. I need your fun and flirty ways, coupled with your insight and wisdom. I’m lucky to have you as a friend.

  Skye Jordan: I love your spunk and fire; it inspires me. (And scares me a little.) I love that friendships can occur miles and miles away through type strokes. Thank you for writing a blurb for my book. Readers: You need to read Rebel, by none other than the spitfire, Skye Jordan. You will heat up when you read Rubi and Wes’ story.

  Tiffany Kasmetskie: Your last name sucks. It’s way too hard to spell! But I love you nonetheless. I’m grateful for your help and encouragement. I feel like Harper Lee when you’re around; you’re always praising me and making me feel confident in my writing. Thank you.

  Aine Kelley: I love spending our evenings writing and sharing. It makes it so much more personal and enjoyable. Readers: You’ll love Finding Home. Check it out and toast to Ben and Samantha.