After Care

by L. B. Dunbar

  I nodded, afraid my voice would crumble to begging. “But I can’t.”

  “Why?” he said, pushing me back and trying to make me focus on his face.

  “I’m going to die.” Thoughts of cancer consumed me. It wouldn’t be fair to involve him in my history and any potential of relapse in the future.

  “When?!” He barked, his eyes wide like I’d left out the details of my doom. Panic filled his face.

  “Someday,” I cried, tears streaking my face.

  “When, beautiful?” he asked, lowering his voice, a smile in his tone.

  “I don’t know,” I said, exasperated. “I’m in remission, but I can’t saddle anyone with this,” I added, tugging at my short hair. He chuckled, and I looked up, surprised and hurt.

  “Who’s saddling? Besides, I want to ride, Edie.” He tugged me to him again.

  “I’m being serious,” I cried.

  “Me, too.” He kissed my forehead.

  “Why me?” I asked, suddenly changing directions as I continued to think of all the reasons we shouldn’t be together, when it was the very thing I wanted.

  “Why not you?”

  “Don’t answer a question with a question,” I mocked, laughing through tears, sensing I’d reached hysteria in my grief at our departure.

  “Okay,” he softly laughed. “Timing.”

  I rolled my eyes, hating that answer. Someone once said the same thing about David. The timing was right, and David was there, so we were together. I got pregnant; that’s why we were married. And if relationships were about timing, how many had I missed out on? How much time had I lost? Sensing my displeasure with his answer, he tried to continue.

  “Okay, it’s because—”

  “I can’t have children,” I blurted.

  “You think I want them?” he said in frustration. His brows furrowed. “I’m surrounded by children.” He snorted, implying the wayward actions of the band. “Plus, I’ve been around Ivy since the day she was born.”

  I sighed, and he tugged me to him again.

  “Edie.” When he said my name, I knew he was about to say something serious and I immediately missed him calling me darlin’. “Let’s ride, beautiful. See what happens. I’m not talking marriage here, just sex and some fun.”

  I nodded, although I didn’t fully like that answer.

  “Remember what fun is, darlin’?”

  “Actually, no, not until recently,” I replied, rolling my forehead against his chest.

  “Well, then, that’s why I’m here. Fun,” he stated adamantly, and cupped my cheeks to press my face up to his. His mouth covered mine, sweet and slow and heartbreakingly tender as he lapped up the salty tears on my lips and drank up my sobs with his tongue. We stood several minutes kissing like this, and I clutched his T-shirt in my fists, holding on to him like my life depended on it. In many ways, I felt I hadn’t lived until I met him, which meant my life had just begun, and now it was about to end. How was that for timing?

  + + +

  We returned home to blustery, negative degree temperatures and the start of a new year. Masie would finish her senior year of high school in a few short months. Caleb would leave for spring training in Iowa for the farm team of a Chicago MLB team. David was pleased by the Midwest proximity, but spring training would take place in Arizona. To my surprise, he cashed in frequent flyer miles so Masie and I could attend a weekend of games during her spring break. He even gave up hotel points to cover the stay. After the trip to Hawaii, I couldn’t afford another vacation, so I didn’t turn down the unexpected gift in order to see my son on the verge of the major leagues.

  I’d held Masie’s hand through most of the return flight. Her tears matched my previous ones, silent and steady. I had nothing left after Tommy let me finish packing. We decided to part ways in the condo instead of risking a repeat of my meltdown by the car in the parking lot. However, he didn’t keep his promise and stood next to the Jeep before we departed. He shook hands with Caleb, thanking him for his permission to take me out a few times. He hugged Masie, whispering into her hair as she nodded against him. My heart broke further at his tenderness toward my children. When he hugged me one more time, I thought I’d break in two.

  “I—” he started, but I cut him off.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted. He pulled back to look at me. “Family always says sorry, and I’m apologizing for that break down up there. We promised to keep things fun and light and I messed it up.” I shook my head and tried to laugh off my ridiculous behavior. He smiled slowly.

  “Family loves unconditionally,” he whispered, and my lips curled in response. His eyes searched mine but I didn’t know what he was looking for. My mind was a jumble, and an ache had developed from all the tears. I just wanted to close my eyes and return home, knowing I’d feel as if I’d been in a dream—Dorothy returned to Kansas, a world of color restored to black and white.

  When the Uber dropped us off at my townhouse on the edge of Chicago, I sighed as I turned the key. Home was sweet, but Hawaii was sweeter. Instantly, I felt rappelled to the old me. Turning up the thermostat, telling Masie to call her father, searching through the mail, I’d slipped back to who I’d been, as if I’d never left.

  An hour later, I noticed a text.

  Miss you already, beautiful.

  I smiled to myself.

  Just got home. Tired. Miss you, too. XO, I typed.

  Get some rest. Talk soon.

  Minutes later, my phone rang.

  “Hello.” I laughed after checking the caller ID and answering.

  “Too soon?” The rough voice of Tommy filled my ear, and my heart leapt.

  “Perfect timing,” I replied.

  “That’s what I like to hear, darlin’.” Silence followed, and I continued smiling knowing he was on the other side of the phone. “So, I’m not great at this phone thing,” he began. “But I wanted to hear your voice.”

  “It’s okay. I’m happy to hear yours, too, but I’m tired. I need to work tomorrow.” I should have taken another day off, but I told myself I’d make it through one day before another weekend started.

  “Okay, beautiful. We fly out early, but I’ll text you later in the day. Have a good one tomorrow.”

  I told him the same, and we hung up. The room suddenly felt empty, filled with silence. How was I going to make it through each day?

  + + +

  I didn’t have time to ponder that question as the alarm went off too early. I prepared for work in a fog of jet lag. Returning to Hartcore Manufacturing after a ten-day reprieve was like walking into a waterfall. The work rained down on me, and my boss, Maximillian Hartcore, jokingly told me I was never allowed to leave again. Only, a serious tone underlaid his tease, and for the first time ever I noticed my boss looking at me. Thinking I had food on my face or spilt something on my dress, I swiped at my lips and brushed down the middle of my outfit.

  “You look different,” Max said, his eyes roaming my body. My boss was only a few years younger than me. Handsome in his own right, his hair had begun to speckle with gray, but his clean-shaved face remained salt-and-pepper free. His eyes were a pretty, piercing blue, and his smile was more of a smirk. I noticed he was actually rather attractive. Something I was aware of before, but suddenly more aware of.

  He’d known David for years, as my ex-husband had been his business accountant. They weren’t really friends, but professional acquaintances. When I wanted a new job around the time of the divorce, and needed special consideration during my treatments, David had done a decent thing and suggested the position with Max. I owed Max for his generous gift of the vacation.

  “Seems a little sunshine agrees with you.” My skin pebbled with the appraising look he was giving me.

  I had sex. It was as if he could read it on my skin and was curious to keep reading.

  “Thank you. The vacation was wonderful. My kids and I really appreciated the time together.” The mention of my children seemed to snap him out of his leering stupor
, and he looked away.

  “Right. Well, if you need anything else, you know to ask.” His head remained lowered as if the report before him was the most important paper of his life. “But on that note, could I ask you to stay a little longer today? I’d like to get organized for next week. It’s been a shit show without you.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. It was nice to be needed, and I agreed to stay. I’d gone through the holiday mail, organized emails by priority, and made a list of a few things I thought should be first on his schedule for the next week. Entering his office around five, he motioned for me to take a seat as he finished a call. His eyes narrowed in on me as he concluded his conversation.

  “Fine, fine. Next week, then,” he hissed, a touch of anger I’d often heard in his voice when addressing some of his business counterparts. He eventually ended the call and brushed a hand down his face.

  “Rough one?” I asked, nodding to the phone.

  “Long day,” he said sitting forward. “Hey Edie, do you like Chinese food?” It was a strange question, considering I’d often ordered lunches for him and he allowed me to add myself on occasion.

  “Sure.”

  “Would you mind ordering dinner for both of us?” My brows pinched, as I answered, “Okay.”

  “Great. We’ll make it a working dinner,” he said, pressing back from his chair. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. When it’s delivered, join me in here.” He stood and turned his back to me as he exited his office for his private bathroom. The door shut with a soft click, and I stood to order dinner.

  When dinner arrived, Max had been professional as always, but I hadn’t noticed how funny he was until he regaled me with stories of the holiday temp who replaced me.

  “She got her wrist stuck in the copy machine fixing a jam, but the best was when she propositioned me.”

  “No!” I gasped.

  “Yep. Asked me outright if I wanted to sleep with her.” Max was divorced like me. He had three younger children, as he married later in life. I could see the appeal from the temporary assistant’s side—Northwestern grad, successful business owner, still-young, millionaire—but I could never image being so bold.

  “Did you take her up on the offer?” I asked before realizing what I’d said. Max’s eyes widened, playful and gleaming.

  “Would you be jealous if I had?” His voice lowered, and that pebbling skin returned. I swallowed before I answered.

  “Of course not,” I laughed, dismissively swiping at the air. The sexual escapades of my boss were none of my business. Rocking slightly back in his chair, his blue eyes narrowed. He bit his lip. “Green really isn’t my color,” I added, remembering all the times Tommy mocked me for being jealous of other women’s attention to him.

  “I don’t know, Edie. I think you’d be pretty in any color.” The comment caught my breath, and I found Max staring at me as he had when I first entered the office that morning. He smiled slowly, and my heart pattered. Was he coming on to me? I patted at some curls near my ear, dismissing the thought.

  “Thank you,” I said, lowering my eyes and smoothing down the skirt of my dress. “If we’re done here, I’d like to go home. I need to get organized there as well after the trip.”

  Max sat forward, his eyes still on me. “Of course, Edie. Whatever you need.”

  + + +

  My hands trembled as I started my car, although I did not feel threatened in any way. I chalked it all up to being overly tired. There was no way my boss was coming onto me, I decided, not after all this time, not at my age. He was younger than me, and David’s business associate. I checked my phone while the car heated and noticed three missed calls from Tommy during my working dinner. I immediately called him back, only to have it go to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message. I didn’t know what to say.

  I miss you.

  I don’t know how I’ll survive without you.

  I want to see you again, now.

  The list was so desperate sounding. Even saying something as mundane as I hope you had a good day sounded weak and clingy in my head. I hung up, but dialed again to hear his voice, even though it was a greeting message. I hung up a second time, determining I was the most ridiculous woman on the planet. I wasn’t a teenager. I was forty-three, but I felt like a girl again, and not in a good way. Insecurity trickled through my veins.

  Around one in the morning, my phone buzzed. I was a light sleeper, and I immediately answered.

  “Hey,” my voice rasped, heavy with sleep.

  “I woke you, didn’t I, darlin’?”

  “It’s okay,” I said, happy to hear his voice.

  “The time change throws me off. It’s only eleven here.” Tommy and the band had returned to their homes just outside Los Angeles, California. I had no concept of what that looked like. I’d never been to California.

  “It’s fine.” I shrugged like he could see me and shifted on the bed.

  “You in bed, darlin’?” His voice lowered and a tickle rose in my lower belly.

  “Yes,” I exhaled.

  “Describe it for me.” I laughed in response, but explained the layout of my room finding it similar to the resort condo. I only had a queen-sized bed at home, but my dresser stood opposite of it, with a chair to the side and a night stand closest to where I slept. The description reminded me of the night Tommy knelt before me, lapping at my core before making love to me. My heart rate increased and my hand slipped to cup a breast before skittering down my belly.

  “And what are you wearing?” The question asked with seductive intent caused a chuckle in response.

  “A T-shirt and underwear.”

  “The red ones?” he asked, his voice lowering.

  “Nope.”

  “The purple ones?” I laughed again, curious that he seemed to have memorized my boring, bright underpants. “Don’t say the pink ones.”

  In fact, they were the pink ones, the same ones I’d worn on the night haunting my thoughts.

  “Yes,” I exhaled again, too breathy, too deep.

  “Where’s Mr. Bob?” he questioned, and I blushed as he referenced the toy buried in my bathing suit drawer in hopes my children would never find it.

  “Too far away,” I whispered as my fingers hesitated at the top of coarse hair, curly and crisp near the edge of my legs.

  “Darlin,’ I want to touch you. Can you do it for me?”

  I nodded as if he could see me. I sampled myself, tickling through the hair and pressing the nub that ached for him.

  “Whatcha doin’, beautiful?” His voice sounded strained, and I was curious if he touched himself. Without waiting for an answer, he spoke again. “Describe it to me.”

  I should have been embarrassed. I was mortified, but I was thrilled at the same time. I was too close to the edge to stop myself, and my legs shook in desperation, the pulse between my thighs beat faster than my heart.

  “I’m touching myself.”

  “That’s my girl,” he stressed. “Tell me more.”

  “I’m parting the folds, and I’m wet. Really wet.”

  “Fuck,” Tommy hissed.

  “My fingers aren’t as good as yours.”

  “That’s right, darlin’, nothing feels as good as my fingers on you, spreading you.” The comment sent a surge through my middle, and I gasped. My fingers increased the pressure. “Keep talking, beautiful.”

  “I’m stroking fast, pressing hard. Oh, God, Tommy, I’m so close. So close, baby.” I moaned, spreading my legs wide and twirling over the folds, rocking my hips upward, reaching for something deeper.

  “Feels good, darlin’. So good. You’re almost there, almost there.” He was panting through the phone.

  “Are you touching yourself?” I asked, my voice too high, filled with surprise, despite my assumption.

  “Fuck, yeah, darlin’. Just thinking of you makes me so hard, so needy.” He paused for a breath, and it was the only sound from both our sides of the phone.

  “Slip a finger inside, darlin
’.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered.

  “Do it, darlin’.” His voice came out in a rush, his breaths jagged. I stroked over myself, rubbing harder, picking up the pace.

  “I can’t,” I stuttered, feeling myself on the edge of something, but not getting there. My fingers were coated, the slick sound of my skin echoing in the room.

  “You can,” he barked, his breath hitching.

  “I’ve never—” I started, but he cut me off.

  “Inside. Now, Edie. Now.” I did as he said, slipping one finger in deep and I bit back the scream as I came. My back arched off the bed as my finger delved inward. My eyes rolled back, and I forgot the phone for a moment.

  “That’s it, girl. Keep stroking, keep going. Oh, darlin’. So good, so wet, so sweet.” His raspy voice encouraged me, and I rocked on my finger until I was replete.

  I exhaled into the phone, resting back flat on the bed. My legs shifted, and my arm swiped along the sheet. Aftershocks rippled through me, and I longed for him to be with me. It was good but not enough.

  “Miss me?” he questioned, his voice near a whisper.

  “So much more than you know,” I replied, a tear slipping from my eye. “So much more.”

  12

  Sex. Period.

  I got my period.

  I stared at the text I’d sent, knowing tone was difficult to read in a few rushed words over a screen. However, I wanted him to know he had nothing to worry about. We were nearing two weeks apart, and my period was almost two weeks late. I didn’t tell Tommy that, but remembering his freak-out over coming inside me, I wanted to let him know. This was a good thing. Honestly, at forty-three, who wants to get pregnant again, and start the cycle of life over? But strangely, a small part of me was disappointed, and so my rash text was sent by my crabby mood.

  I didn’t wait for a reply. He was two hours behind me, and most likely, still sleeping. His schedule was one social activity after another, plus days filled with band practice and extinguishing shenanigans from the boys. My first call had actually been to my doctor. I’d made an appointment based on my growing nerves, but needed to cancel. Minutes later, Dr. Crain called me. We’d become friends in the professional way doctors befriend patients they see often.