We headed down the corridor, our feet scuffling the shiny white floor, past the nurses’ station, past the gurneys lined up against the wall, around the corner to the long cushioned seat. We kind of plopped down together, and the cushion made a whooshing noise.
“Jess, please do this,” I said. “I know it sucks, but please, do it.” He was right, the place did smell bad—a sickening combination of Lysol and misery.
“Maybe it’s better if I just stop now,” Jesse choked out, still leaning on me. “Maybe we could have a few good months, at least.”
“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Seeing him in such anguish, I felt like my heart was going to split right open. “It’s because of last night. You want to be like you were last night.”
Jesse blubbered into my shoulder.
“Dr. Slater to OR three, stat. Dr. Slater to OR three, stat,” an announcement blared.
“Jesse, sweetheart, I don’t know what to say, except it just can’t be that way right now. But maybe you’ll get better. Maybe this treatment will work, and then—”
“I want to make love to you, not just lie there… . ”
I rubbed his back. “You don’t just lie there, Jess. You’re incredible—always.” God, I hoped Gwen wasn’t listening around the corner; then we’d be screwed. Compassionate or not, Gwen wouldn’t stand for Jess and me having sex.
He sucked in a breath, blew it out. “I want … to be … a real man.”
“You so are! You don’t think I liked it before last night?”
His fingers dug into my sides. “Yeah, but—”
“You’re willing to throw away the possibility of survival for a few months of great sex?” It was flattering, actually, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “Talk about fucking yourself.”
Now I really felt guilty for having suggested that room. Even worse, because knowing what was happening as a result, I wouldn’t change a thing. Part of me wanted to grab Jesse’s hand and flee with him, far from that scent of sanitized torment, and back to the room that had turned out to be paradise after all. But the desperate need to keep on trying—well, that filled a bigger part of me.
“Look, Jess. We have to stop talking about this for now, okay?” I leaned into his ear. “Your mother’s waiting for us. If she decides to eavesdrop around the corner, we’re pretty much over and done. Get it?”
“We’re pretty much over if I go in there, Sam.”
“Only if you decide we are.” I pushed him off my shoulder and stared into his red eyes. “Jess, you might feel good after it’s all over, after the transplant.”
“Yeah, sure.” He blinked, releasing another tear. “Even if that happens, it’ll be after how much time? Time we can’t ever get back … ”
I kissed the tear from his cheek, then looked him in the eyes again. “Hey, you’re not going to start the chemo for two weeks, you know.”
He shrugged, but something in his eyes softened.
“And … ,” I broke back in, “for the next five days, they’re only giving you drugs to make more stem cells. Think about what we can do in your bathroom when I visit.” I raised my eyebrows, trying to be funny and suggestive at the same time.
He had to smile. “But what if I have a roommate?”
“He’ll need to find his own date,” I said.
***
Gwen looked even more frozen when we got back to the room. She was perched stiffly on the corner of Jess’s bed, her black Prada bag beside her, staring at the white wall.
“Mom?” Jess said.
She turned to us and blinked—like she hadn’t realized we were there.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“The doctor was here looking for you, Jesse,” she said. “I told him to come back in a little while.”
“Thanks.”
She turned to me, her gaze sharpening. Things falling into focus. “Samantha, shouldn’t you be leaving for school?”
“I have a final at noon.” I’d had one at nine, too, but it was math and I was failing anyway. I’d decided to complete my dazzling free fall by cementing my fate with the New York State Board of Regents.
“I’m sure you’ll do well, having spent last night carousing with Jesse instead of studying,” said Gwen. She was real sharp now.
Unfortunately, she had a point.
“Speaking of studying,” Jess said. “Mom, would you go to Midland and get me some lessons? I might as well do something while I’m lying around here.”
“You mean you’re going to start your school work again?”
Jess shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Sam and I can study together over the summer. I mean, I might as well get my diploma, right?”
That was great news.
“That’s great news, Jesse,” said Gwen.
Swell. Now Gwen and I were sharing thoughts.
Gwen shifted her position on the blanket, recrossing her not-at-all-bad-for-late-forties legs. She wore a short black dress—her usual hospital color.
Jess opened up his suitcase. He took out his pajamas, toiletries, and a notebook, leaving in the rest of his clothes. He flipped the case cover closed, then opened it again, dug under the clothes, and took out his cat pillow. He propped it on the bed covers.
Gwen stared at it.
She got up, stood in front of Jesse, kind of hesitating. Then she put her arms around him, leaned her head against his chest. “I love you, Jesse.”
Wow.
He hugged her back, grasping tight.
The look on his face was a little boy’s. A third grader who’d just given his mom a kitty pillow he’d made so she’d feel better.
Who would have thought that nine years later, that cat’s time would finally come?
***
“Mom, what are you doing here?” I’d come back from my chemistry final to find my mother at the hospital, sitting with Jesse. He looked dazed—kind of sleeping with his eyes open. “Jess, you okay?” He didn’t answer, and he didn’t seem to know I was there.
“He’s fine, Sam. Don’t worry. He just woke up. They had him in the OR, inserting a tube into his chest—I think the nurse said it was called a Hickman line—to take blood from and give him his treatments with.” I winced. It sounded painful.
“It didn’t hurt him, baby,” she said softly. “He was sedated—that’s why he’s like this now. It’s better for him. Now he won’t have to get all those injections.”
Mom got up. “You sit next to him.” She gave me a kiss, moved into the chair facing the bed.
I sat and took Jess’s hand. No response—he was all zombied out. But maybe somewhere inside he felt my touch.
I noticed a cookie bouquet on the night table—a vase of cookies on tall sticks in the shapes of happy faces, hearts, and flowers. “Mom. You brought that, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “I not only brought it. I baked it.”
Mom was so doofy, bless her heart. She said, “You know, when I walked in here, when I saw Jesse lying there unconscious”—she stopped, looking at Jess with this genuine caring, and I loved her even more for that, that she could selflessly feel for the boy who was screwing her daughter—“I realized why you act so irresponsibly about everything else in your life. Being seventeen and in agony over the welfare of someone you love—that’s probably the hardest thing you’ll ever have to endure.” She sighed, crossed her legs. She was wearing slacks instead of her usual sweats. Fancy, for her. “But, Sam, I don’t know what to do with you.”
“What do you mean, ‘do with me?’ ”
Mom gave me a hard look.
“What? What’d I do?” I asked. “You’re not mad about last night, are you?”
“No, Sam. I’m not mad about last night.” The words came out slow, each one carefully pronounced. “I’m certainly not thrilled, but I’m not angry.”
“Then what is it?” I wished she would just tell me; my nerves were stirring, and I must have passed the feeling through to Jess because he shuddered. Mom and I stopped and watched him,
but he was still a space cowboy.
“I went to your school today, to try and arrange for you to have home study over the summer. I told them you were trying so hard, but the problem was that you just couldn’t concentrate in school with Jesse in his condition. Do you know what they said?”
I had an idea… .
Her voice was rising like an airplane on takeoff. “They said if you were trying so hard, how come you didn’t show up for your math regents?”
Bingo! “But I was already failing—”
“Samantha!” That was the sharpest my mom had ever said my name. It made my soul cringe. “I never want to hear about you doing anything like that from anyone but you again. If you’re going to act like a fool, don’t make me look like one, too. Have the courtesy to inform me beforehand. And then I’ll know not to try and help you anymore.”
Now that is sad. It made me feel just awful. My mom was ready to give up on me. I wiped my eyes with my free hand.
“Don’t cry, Sam,” said Mom, in a tone still angry, but not biting. “I said next time I’d know not to help you. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you now.” She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a bunch of textbooks. “I had to speak to each of your teachers, the dean, and the headmaster, but I got permission for you to work at home. You can also home-study in the fall.”
“Mom …” I was touched. I let go of Jess’s hand so I could run over and hug her. “Thanks.”
She clenched her fingers into the hollow of my back. “Sam, please take this seriously. You’re the only one who can truly help you.”
“I will, Mom.” I meant it, too.
When I sat down again Jess smiled. “Sam! You’re back!” he exclaimed, all slurry. He reached out and I took his hand. “Ready to head into the bathroom?” He gave me a drunken wink.
I felt Mom’s heated stare on me. “Shhh, Jess. My mom’s here.”
“She is?” He looked around. It took him a moment to spot her in front of him. “Hi, Ellen!”
I wanted to evaporate or something. “Sorry, Mom,” I told her. “I—I had to promise him. Uh, it was the only way I could get him to start his treatment.”
“You enticed him into his hospital bed by offering sexual favors?”
I nodded.
She let out a long, low whistle. “I should never have let you read my books.”
Chapter Seventeen
We never did make it into the bathroom that day. Mom left to pick up Teddy, but Jess was way too woozy. Thank God, because then Gwen came in with deli food for Jess, so he wouldn’t have to eat the hospital slop. She brought him egg salad with extra mayo on a pumpernickel bagel with tomato, a Caesar salad, ginger ale, and rice pudding. Jess needed extra calories so he wouldn’t lose too much weight.
Jess wasn’t that hungry. He took like, two bites of the sandwich, and I think he only did that to show Gwen he appreciated her effort. I hadn’t given food a thought all day, and seeing it set those salivary glands in motion. Like a human garbage disposal, I practically slid that salad down my throat without chewing. The bagel was more of a challenge.
“Rice pudding?” Jess asked, after I’d scarfed down everything else.
Hmm … creamy pudding. Tempting, but I felt Gwen’s heavy stare, and suddenly I felt like I’d snatched the food out of Jess’s mouth. “Save it for later. You might get hungry,” I told him, even though I did want it.
I eyed Jess’s cookie bouquet. Yum. I took a heart, pulled off the clear wrap, and bit a chunk.
The nurse came in and gave Jess his medicine—right in the tube in his chest. I couldn’t bring myself to look directly at it. I just hated the thought of a tube jammed into him—it made me ill.
“Does … does it hurt you?” I asked him when the nurse left, keeping my eyes on his face.
“No. I’m just a little achy all around it. They told me that’d pass.” He smiled. “I’m all right, Sam.” He buttoned his red pajama top again. “I can take showers, do whatever I want.” He gave me a knowing look. It was the perfect combination of suggestion for me and ambiguity for Gwen.
I didn’t dare look at her, though. I’m no good at covert operations.
I bit off another piece of cookie heart, crunching it in my mouth.
Gwen sighed. “Well, it’s getting late. I’m going to go. Samantha?”
I guessed she was offering to share a cab, and I guessed it made sense, except I didn’t want to go yet. I didn’t want to go at all.
“I’m gonna hang out awhile,” I told her. After a second I added, “But thanks.”
She shrugged, stood, and gave Jess a quick kiss and a hug, which he returned. I was glad for him.
Then the door slid shut with a “shoosh” sound, like someone whispering “quiet” to us. It felt that way in there, sitting next to Jess with that tube in his chest, helpless and soon alone—it felt like we’d been shooshed into uneasy silence. I set the gnawed remains of Jess’s heart cookie down on the swivel table and felt sick.
But Jess didn’t share my discomfort. He had something else on his mind, looking from me to the bathroom, then back to me, and then the bathroom. Real subtle, this guy of mine.
“Jess, we have like twenty minutes before I get the heave-ho.”
He made a sad face—pretty phony, but with a little truth to it.
“Jess, I don’t have a final until twelve tomorrow. I’ll come first thing, okay?”
He smiled. “Okay, then I’ll come.”
“You are the biggest perv!”
“Yeah, right. And who was it that suggested the bathroom in the first place?”
“I’m just glad you don’t have a roommate,” I said. “Our luck, he’d have a big mouth and a bad bladder.”
Jess laughed, then patted the mattress. “C’mere.” He reached down and lowered the bar. “See how it’s done?”
“Three’s a crowd,” I said, pointing to his kitty pillow grinning up at me from beside him.
He chucked it to the end of the bed. I slid in next to him, between the white cotton sheets, and into his arms. We kissed, kind of awkwardly because I was trying to stay away from his chest.
“It’s okay, Sam,” he said. “Touch me.”
I leaned into him, still feeling kind of nauseous. I had to remember to eat regular meals; it was one of those functioning details of life that were so hard to focus on right now.
We made out, with a little petting thrown in for good measure—the kind of stuff we’d be working our way up to if we’d started dating the normal way.
If we’d started dating …
If all the bad hadn’t happened, would Jess be all over me right now at a movie, or Cindy Evans?
Why was that in my mind?
Ding, ding, ding. “Your attention, please. Visiting hours are now over. Please make your way to the nearest exit. Thank you.”
I started to get up, but Jess held me back, giving me one last consuming kiss.
“First thing, right?” he asked, looking lonely already.
“First thing,” I agreed.
God, I wished I didn’t have to turn my back on those sad eyes.
Ding, ding, ding. “Visiting hours are now over. Visiting hours are now over. Please make your way to the nearest exit at once.”
I stopped at the door, went back for one more last kiss. “Sleep well.”
“Not likely.”
I headed out the door, swiping at my tears. This sucked, walking away.
***
I cried all the way home in the cab. I pictured myself in that bed with Jess, snuggling under the blanket—holding him, touching him, smelling him. Then suddenly I wasn’t there with him. Cindy was. And that brought on a whole new round of tears.
***
Ding! The elevator door slid open and I stepped into Oz again.
My life seemed punctuated by bells—first at the hospital, and now here. A reminder of time running out, like the grains of sand pouring through the wicked witch of the West’s giant hourglass. I stood on the yell
ow brick carpet, frozen with that thought. My eyes wandered up, up to the white ceiling to avoid the green lines on the walls. And there it was, spelled out above me. A message in black, billowy letters, as though the witch had just left the scene: surrender dorothy.
The hallway spun, turbulent and sudden, like life.
Whirling, twirling.
I ran to the wall, swiped at emerald to try and stay up. But how could I, how could anyone stand in a world that at any moment just sweeps you up and hurls you aside?
Dizzy, so dizzy … My fingers skidded down, down the rough green stripes … I fell with them.
How could I fight? How could I win? There’s no winning when there’s no rules. Why was everything so fragile, so hinged on chance? Or on nothing at all … ?
I curled up on the golden rug and squeezed my eyes shut. But I kept seeing those words swirling, circling in my mind: surrender dorothy. surrender dorothy.
Surrender to what? Was the message from the wicked witch, or from the wizard?
That dumb wizard was a fraud, and that goody-two-shoes witch Glenda was useless, with her bad advice and false optimism. The only one you could count on was the wicked witch—she alone was as good as her word.
What was I supposed to do with that?
Stupid hallway. Stupid Glenda, acting like wishes could come true if you worked hard enough for them. Stupid sham wizard, pretending to produce happy endings. Stupid me, for believing in wishes and happy endings, for begging for them still.
I felt wetness on my cheeks, pressed my fingers against my lids hard. I didn’t want to cry in Oz. I didn’t want to surrender, not really.
For a second I could swear I felt a touch on my head. A warm palm on my crown, giving comfort. Like my dad used to do… . Further proof that I was mad.
And if it was him … if he was some spirit reaching out from the grave … what good was that? What good was having him for a moment, then losing him again?
God, it was unbearable.
Ding. Another bell. But it was far … so far away this time. And I didn’t know whether that was good or bad. I only knew that I was sick of not knowing anything.
And then my mind went black.
Chapter Eighteen
The Girl Next Door Page 9