by J. Saman
That said, if it’s positive, I’ve already decided I’m leaving Seattle.
It’s part of the reason I haven’t been as active at finding a new apartment as I should have been. Maybe I’ll travel around. Maybe I’ll just go off and find a new gig for a while. Live by the ocean. A warmer ocean. I’ve always wanted to go back to Europe. Who the hell knows?
“Is this about Kyle?”
I shrug again. Ryan clears his throat, and for some reason, that makes my eyes raise up to his. His expression is one of tortured indecision. I’ve never seen anything like it on his face.
“Can I ask you a very personal question?”
My jaw drops.
“I know we don’t really do this shit, Claire. You’re the equivalent of my bratty little sister, but all that means is that I love you.” Ryan pushes up the bridge of his black glasses and then runs a hand through his thick inky hair.
All I can do is stare at him, my heart hammering just a bit harder.
He knows.
The look on his face cannot mean anything else.
“Go ahead,” I manage through a choked whisper.
One of the babies starts to fuss, and without even thinking about it, I rush over and pick Leah up, snuggling her warm, squirmy body close to mine. I think I need the comfort more than she does. Ryan steps back, grabbing a bottle of breast milk out of the warmer and hands it to me. I’ve only ever fed them a couple of times, but I was well-coached, and now I sort of feel like a pro.
I hold her small head in the crook of my elbow, elevating it some and then stick the small nipple into her mouth. Leah sucks away happily, and that slurping and suckling noise is the perfect diversion.
Ryan watches me holding his daughter for a moment, our attention on her. I sit down on one of the barstools, and then my eyes lock with Ryan’s. My breath catches, and my eyes instantly glass over with moisture.
God, he really does know.
32
Claire
* * *
“Why have you never told me about the fact that you might have Huntington’s Disease?”
I laugh. I don’t know why, but that’s my automatic response, even though there is absolutely no humor to it. It’s really just a burst of noise that comes out of my mouth, sounding pained and awkward. “Why would I have? What would me telling you about it accomplish?”
He frowns, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the counter.
I sigh heavily, refocusing on Leah’s small body eating in my arms because that’s so much easier than looking at Ryan.
“How do you even know about it?”
“Your father told me when he called about your mother’s suicide. He said he wants you to get tested and tried to get me to force you to do it.”
“Asshole,” I mutter. “No wonder he showed up here.” I look up at him, a sad smile on my face. “You know, he only wants me to find out so he can take over my life. Control everything for me, including the money my mother gave me when I graduated college. He thinks I’m an idiot who makes bad choices.”
Ryan blanches.
“If I have Huntington’s, then I can eventually be declared mentally unfit, and he can take control of everything. He tried to do that with my mother after she was diagnosed, but they were divorced and he had no claim.”
“He can’t do that to you either if you designate another party.”
I nod. I already know this. I just haven’t done anything about it yet.
“I told your father that I wasn’t going to force you into anything.” A wry smile pulls up his lips. “First of all, it is impossible to force you to do anything.”
I smile at that.
“Second of all, I told him it was your decision to make, and if you felt it was easier to live your life without knowing, then that was your call.”
I nod my gratitude at that, swallowing past the massive lump in the back of my throat.
“I get it, Claire. I do. Which is why I haven’t said anything. In all honesty, I don’t know if I’d want to know, either.”
Ryan walks around the counter, collecting the now empty bottle and setting it down. He tosses a burp cloth over his shoulder, takes the baby from my arms, and puts her up on his shoulder, patting her back gently. I get up, walking over to the playpen thing and pick up Will, who is all too happy to snuggle into my arms. I breathe in his sweet scent, kissing his soft, bald head.
“I didn’t want to know. Ever. At least until I started to show symptoms, and then I figured I’d know.” I sit back down, holding Will in my arms. “I found out my mom’s diagnosis my senior year of college, and three years later, she killed herself because she couldn’t take the symptoms anymore.” I look up at Ryan, who is staring at me with a small baby on his shoulder. It’s amazing how much has changed since I met this man. “She was forty-two,” I tell him, leveling him with my eyes. “She was only thirty-six when she started to show symptoms and that is really freaking young. I’m twenty-five now. See where I’m going with this?” I tilt my head at him.
“You said didn’t.”
“Huh?” I furrow my eyebrows, completely lost as to his meaning.
“You said you didn’t want to know. Not that you don’t. Past tense. What’s changed?”
I look back down at Will. How do you tell your friend, your boss, that you’re in love with his brother? That you want something real even though you know the likelihood of having it is against you.
“Is it because you’re in love with my brother?”
I look up at him, oddly annoyed by the way he seems to know everything. “What are you, a fucking oracle? Do you always have to know everything?”
He shrugs at me like he can’t help it. I roll my eyes at him.
“Yes. I love your brother.” I pause. Then I sigh, resigned to telling him everything because I figure at this point, he’ll just find out anyway. “Kyle and I had a fight tonight. I had the blood test and they called with the results. Kyle answered my phone, thinking it was his.”
“So, he knows?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t get the results, and I didn’t tell him anything about the Huntington’s. He was pissed and we yelled, and then I left.”
“Do you want me to call for the results?”
God, that’s such an amazing offer. I can’t imagine him hearing that news would be much easier than me hearing it, especially since he’d then have to be the one to tell me I’m dying. I shouldn’t let him do it. I shouldn’t. It should be me.
But I’m too much of a fucking coward.
Part of me wants to know, and part of me doesn’t. I’m still so completely torn about this that I may never make that call. Unless he does it for me. Now.
I take my phone out of my bag and slide it across the counter to him. Leah lets out a surprisingly loud and satisfying burp and I can’t stop myself from laughing, despite the gravity of this moment.
“Damn girl, I needed that,” I tell her through my laughter. “Sounds like you did, too.”
Ryan chuckles as well, kissing the side of her head and rubbing her back some more. Will is almost asleep in my arms, but there is no way I’m putting this kid down. He’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.
“Leah’s going to poop in a few minutes. It’s sort of her MO after she eats.”
I look up at him, smirking like a son of a bitch. “Poop?” I laugh. “God, you’re such a dad now. Where did my cool hipster boss go?”
Ryan rolls his eyes at me.
“Is there a reason you felt the need to tell me about Leah’s bowel habits?”
“Only that if I make this call and shit gets intense, Leah is probably going to poop in the middle of that moment and I’ll have to change her diaper.”
“I really have no words for you. Just make the fucking call, Ryan. I’m losing my nerve here, and there isn’t enough wine in the world to bring it back.” I lift my half-empty glass with my free hand, holding it up as proof. “It’s the last call in my log, and don’t even bulls
hit me by playing you don’t know the password to unlock my phone.”
He winks at me, but I can see just how nervous he is. I can practically feel his pulse rising with mine. His hands are trembling. Mine are, too, and I down the rest of my wine in one impressive gulp.
Ryan brings the phone to his ear, taking in a deep breath. “If you’re going to get drunk, can you put my son down, so I know he’s safe?”
I shake my head. “He’s safe, Ryan. But there is no way in hell I can put him down right now.”
He gets it. I’m about two seconds from losing my shit and allowing this panic to consume me. Baby Will here is my talisman. I just stare at him because I can’t look at Ryan.
“Hi, um. This is Ryan Grant. Claire Sullivan asked me to call you to get her test results.” Ryan goes silent for a moment, and then I hear him move closer to me. “Claire, she won’t tell me the results unless she speaks to you.”
I swallow, shaking my head.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Holy fucking shit. I can’t do this.
“Just tell him the results, Dr. Krauss. I’m too much of a wimp to do it myself,” I yell just loud enough that she can hear me, but not enough to wake up the now sleeping babies.
“Is that good for you?” Ryan asks, and suddenly, I can’t sit anymore. I stand up quickly, placing sleeping Will down softly into his playpen, and begin to move to the other side of the kitchen. I want to grab that wine and drink it straight from the bottle. I want to find some stash of heroin that I know they don’t have and inject it into my heart and brain. I want to run as fast as I can from this house and never look back. I’m going to be sick.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper, my whole body shaking to the point that I have to grab onto the sink for support before I collapse.
“Okay, thank you,” Ryan says, and then I collapse. I can’t hear anything except the blood pounding through my ears.
I draw my knees up to my chest, and I start to lose it. This is why I didn’t want to know. I can’t do anything to change it. And now Ryan knows. Goddamn it, why did I do this? Why did I have that stupid test done?
A moment later, I feel Ryan next to me on the floor, his large body pulling mine into his warm chest, and he just holds me, rocking me gently, running his hands down my hair and soothing me like I’m Kate or one of his kids.
He doesn’t say anything for a beat and that tells me everything.
I’m sick. I’m dying of Huntington’s Chorea.
Oh God, what does this mean for me? What does this mean for my life and my future and Kyle? I need a plan. I need to—
“It’s negative, Claire,” he whispers, his mouth pressed right up against my ear so that I don’t have any other choice but to hear him. “You’re not going to be affected by the disease. Your neurologist is going to follow up with you on Monday to discuss your potential risk to your future children and answer any questions you might have.”
“There is none if I’m negative,” I reply automatically, and then I begin to sob, loud and hard. “Are you sure, Ryan?” I gasp out, balling up the cotton of his shirt into my fists. “Are you absolutely fucking positively positive?”
“Yes. You are not going to get sick.”
“Holy sweet baby Jesus eating ice cream,” I whimper, and Ryan laughs, holding me tighter to him. “Shit,” I sputter out. It’s like I don’t even know what to do with myself right now. I’ve had this ever-present fear hanging over my head for the last three years. It’s like a weight has been lifted. A death sentence reversed. “Watch,” I say, pulling back from Ryan and wiping my face, “now that I’m not going to get Huntington’s, I’ll leave here and get hit by lightning.”
“Who thinks like that?”
I shrug.
“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’re like a demented little ally cat,” Ryan laughs, wiping some of my tears from his black Henley.
“You’re not going to tell Katie Duck, are you?”
“No. It doesn’t seem like there is much to tell now, anyway. And it’s still your story, not mine. But,” he pauses, waiting for me to look at him. We’re both sitting on his kitchen floor in between the sink and island, knees bent. Ryan looks like a giant. “I’ve never told you how to live your life. It’s your own and I have zero judgment for the things you do. But my brother is in love with you, and if you are not feeling that way about him or do not want to be with him, then you need to move the fuck out of his place and go back to being the way you have been for the last month.”
“Okay,” I say softly.
“And no more taking unnecessary risks with your life.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad. Can we stop with the lecture now and allow me to enjoy my new lease on life or my kicking death’s ass or my second chance, or my whatever the hell you call this sort of thing?”
“Yeah. If I weren’t responsible for the twins, I’d get really drunk with you and watch Empire of the Sun.”
“God, I love that movie,” I tell him with a smile.
“Yeah. It’s good shit. We’ll definitely have to rain check that one.”
Suddenly, we hear what can only be the sound of a baby filling her diaper. I burst out laughing and so does Ryan. “Wow, you weren’t kidding,” I say through my laughter. “That’s nasty.”
“It’s not all baby shit and vomit,” he says and then tilts his head. “Well, a lot of it is actually, now that I think on it. But in a good way. If baby shit and vomit can be good. Okay, I’m not making sense. It’s all this emotional crap throwing me off my game.”
“Yeah, that’s my bad.”
We both look at each other with a smile of understanding.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “You changed my whole life.”
The look in his eyes tells me he understands I mean more than just what he did for me tonight. I lean forward, giving him a kiss on the forehead, and then I get up.
“Come on, papa bear,” I sniffle, because my nose is still running like a faucet even though my tears have dried. “I’ll change baby Leah’s poopy diaper. But only because she’s so damn cute, and I want another crack at those chubby cheeks of hers.”
“Do you mean her butt or her face?”
“Definitely both.”
And after that, I need to find Kyle. I need to tell him everything.
33
Claire
* * *
I had walked to Ryan’s, and I was walking home despite his protests. I needed the walk and the air to gather all my thoughts. To make sense of everything that is now my reality. The frigid night air is welcome as it glides across my face. I’m wearing one of Kate’s Patriots football knit hats, her coat, and a pair of her gloves. For October, it’s a particularly chilly night.
I feel stupid, really. Unlike myself. Detached, almost.
And I can’t place why.
It’s funny, after the first time Kyle said he loved me, I started to think about getting tested. I mean, I figured if his affection wasn’t all that strong, then why do that to myself? But the moment he threw the word love out, things started to shift. Then I had the what-ifs and the maybes running through my head on perpetual repeat. But it still took me nearly getting killed, and a lot of failed attempts, for me to pull the trigger. Pun intended.
But now? Now, I just feel . . . wrecked.
The overabundance of excitement and joy I was rocking at Ryan’s has morphed into something else, and it in no way resembles anything good.
Fear? Yeah, that’s what this is.
Because on the one hand, I feel like I have a fresh start. An actual life I can go out and live knowing that my actions have consequences. Most people seek out the opposite, feeling too restricted by the demands of their existence. But I’ve never lived within that realm.
Sure, I went to work and paid my bills, but I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, with whomever I wanted, regardless of the outcome. I simply didn’t care enough.
No regrets.
That was sort
of my slogan, but now, I’m filled with them.
And they all revolve around one person. Kyle.
Deep down, I know I’m too late. Yes, he says he loves me, but to what end? How many times can I push him away until he says enough? Three? Yeah, I think that’s what we’re up to now. After the last time, before tonight of course, he didn’t speak to me much. In fact, until the attack, he had little to do with me for over a month.
I pulled him out of a date that was making me crazy with jealousy, and then when he tried to kiss me, again, I ruined it. Like I ruin everything. And everyone.
The sad part is, I wouldn’t blame him if he said no.
The city streets are thickly lined with people going out to dinner and drinks and doing their shopping. Families. Husbands and wives. Couples. I feel so disconnected from all of it. Yes, I have Ryan, but he has Kate. And Luke has Ivy. And they’re expecting a baby and planning a wedding.
Who do I have?
Never once have any of my friends asked me why I am the way I am. Not once has anyone said, hey Claire, why do you sleep around the way you d?. Why do you live your life like you’re running from something? Like you’re being hunted? If they ever had, I would have looked them in the eye and said, because I am. It’s really that simple and that complicated for me.
But you know what, that’s just life.
I don’t expect pity because things haven’t always been a bed of roses for me. Because my life wasn’t constructed the way I had envisioned it to be when I was six. I mean, hell, most people generally accept that shit happens and that life can be a real motherfucker.
Look at Kate. That girl lost both her child and husband in a car accident. Kate. I mean, can a person be any nicer, sweeter, or more understanding? No. Luke? Hell, I can’t even go there. I know very little about his past, but what I do know, is dark and scary and messed up. His present isn’t much better, though he’s changed a lot of it for Ivy.
Ryan? His parents are a mess. Apathetic alcoholics that don’t want help. I guess that one goes for Kyle too. When I met Ryan, he was dating this total bitch, Francesca and he had just been betrayed by his cousin, Tristan. Both were after him for his money. Tristan’s stupid-ass got busted for whatever crooked crap he was into. Francesca decided that the guy Ryan was working with would come out ahead, and he would be her ticket to easy money. She fucked around on Ryan and left him with a broken heart. And Tristan left him with even more crazy trust issues.