Love, Michael: A second chance romance

by Gina A. Jones

  "Wow," was all I could say. I couldn't even feel my glass of wine and feared it would fall from my hand. "Even the honeymoon?"

  "Yes, Paris. Mom…please tell me you're not mad."

  "No. I'm in shock, Monica. He…he's paying for the entire wedding?"

  "Yes. And the photographer. It's like thirty grand, Mom."

  "Oh, I imagine it is. One thing. What's the catch?"

  "Well, you know how we always said Uncle Scott or Grandpa would walk me down the aisle one day?"

  "Oh, no. Don't tell me."

  "He wants to give me away, Mom. That's all he asks. How do you think Grandma and Grandpa will react?"

  I took a deep breath because I knew exactly how they would react. The same way when I told them I was pregnant. Michael was coming back, and I had to prepare my parents and Scott. I picked up the bottle of wine and topped off my glass. I was going to have to prepare myself.

  Now

  No! This isn't happening. Not again. She—Cathy, is still talking, but I don’t hear a word. It's all a blur as she rambles on. Make her stop. Please! Somebody make her stop.

  "Jill? Are you there? You need to be strong. Michael is going to need you."

  "What? No, I don't believe you." Now, I wished she was just a call girl or an affair. I could maybe deal with that. But not this again. Death is final.

  I hear someone whisper my name and look up to see Tammy as Marilyn again, standing across the room.

  "What are you doing here?" I curse at her in anger.

  "I think you know, Jill."

  "What I know is you can't stand the fact that I'm still alive, and for that, you're taking Michael away from me. Wasn't it enough that you left me?"

  "Jill, not everything is up to us."

  "No. I refuse to believe you. None of this is real. You're not real," I scream and throw the phone at her. It only hits the wall, because she's not really there. I run out the door, screaming Michael's name. "Michael? Where are you?" Running through the living room, I see him sitting on the patio through the glass door. I can't get to him fast enough and swing the door open with force. It hits the back wall, and he looks up at me with red, swollen eyes.

  "Michael. I'm here. I'm so sorry for everything I said."

  "Jill, I'm so, so sorry. This is not I planned. You have to believe me." He pulls me in with a crushing hug. "I love you so much. I never wanted this to happen. If I knew the cancer would come back, I never would have done this to you."

  Grabbing his shoulders, I push back and look into his crying eyes. "What are you talking about? Come back?"

  He reaches for my face and wipes my tears. I cup his and kiss his tears. "I've been in remission for almost three years. I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. After a year of chemotherapy and stem cell treatment, we thought we had it beat."

  "We'll do it again. We'll beat this thing. Together."

  "Jill, please forgive me. Forgive me for everything. I wanted to be with you for a long time."

  "Michael, you will be. It's always been you and me." Even in Michael's absences, it's always been about him and me.

  "Jill, the test came back. It's fast-growing this time and has spread to other areas. It's back, and it's back with a vengeance."

  "I'm not giving up, Michael." My voice trails off. "I never have."

  "I know, Baby. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I wasted twenty years of it. If I had it all to do over again…"

  "Michael, you do. That's why you're here."

  Somewhere through all the tears and heartache, he smiles. "That's right, Jill. That's exactly why I came. I thought I had another shot at life, and I wanted it with you."

  "Oh, Michael."

  I hold him tightly as the chilly fall air whips around us. Leaves falling to our feet. No longer is this a season of beautiful changes and colors. It's cruel and heartless, and I hate everything about it. How will I ever look up to the sky and see the golden and red canopy of trees without thinking of this moment? The sky is no longer blue, but a dark cast against the orange leaves. November will be just as ugly, leaving these trees bare and lifeless—an empty portrait of what once was. A reminder that life and nature are not always up to us, but what we are to do with it.

  "Jill, please believe me. I thought I was cured. I thought I would never have to tell you. And I thought I never would have to. Because I never wanted you to think that it was death knocking on my door, leading me to your door. I wanted you back long before I was first diagnosed. But, I thought you had found happiness with Drake."

  "How would you know that?"

  "I was there that night, Jill. Clementine's. You were so beautiful, so perfect…and so in love. I watched the way you looked at him. The way your eyes would light up, and I wanted it back. I wanted those eyes to see me that way again. Though I never earned a look like that from you, you gave it to me so unconditionally, and I took it for granted."

  "Michael, I swore I heard you that night. I thought it was all part of what made me doubt Drake's love for us."

  "And that, I'm so sorry for. You should have been with him from the beginning. Not me. I never deserved you."

  "But, then I wouldn't have Monica."

  He chokes on his cries, forcing his words out. "You would of have a beautiful baby with anyone, Jill. But you chose to have my baby. How'd I ever get so lucky?"

  "Michael, stop this past talk. This doctor, Cathy McGregor. I heard you say she was the best. She will cure you again."

  "She would if she could. But it's too far advanced, and more treatment and chemo will only leave me with no quality of life with what I have left."

  My eyes search his face in massive disbelief. "No. No. I refuse what you are saying. You can't…you can't just give up."

  "I'm not giving up. I've just gone as far as life has allowed me. And guess what?" Tears run down his cheeks, and I kiss them, tasting the love leaking from his eyes. "It allowed me to be with you. I can't think of a better way to go." I fall into his arms and cry allowing him to comfort me.

  "I love you so much, Michael," I cry into his chest. All the things I should had picked up on. His friend with cancer. His concern for Tammy. Our daughter's wedding and the look on his face when he saw us. The deep appreciation I saw when he bent down and let the water run down his hand after our photo shoot. It was all there. His second chance of life and he wanted it with me. "How are we going to tell our daughter?"

  "Monica knew. But she doesn't know it's back."

  "How did she know?"

  "She came and took care of me. Something she learned from her mother. Unconditional love. Forgiveness. Respect and loyalty. Everything her mother is. Can I have just this day for ourselves before needing to tell her?"

  "Michael. I have nothing and everything to say. Things I don't want to ask and things I want you to know." The wind blows my hair and wraps around our faces. I want to keep him here. Tucked away and never to leave. Everything passes by in a moment as Michael holds me in his arms, gently rocking us in a wordless song. Each time I gasp with another cry, his lips press to my forehead, followed by as shush. I learned to live without him, not knowing he was always there. There in my heart, my soul, my anger, my love—he was still there. No matter how much I thought I walked away from his memory. But that's what memories are. They’re ours to hang on to. Cherish. It's only how we want to remember them. I have him here right now. And even this memory will be cherished—as hard as it is.

  I squeeze him with all my might, wishing I could crawl inside and go with him. Always be with him. "How long, Michael?" Don't answer. "No, I don't want to know."

  "It doesn't matter how long. As long as it's with you. That's what I want us to focus on. Let's not mark my life with time, but with who."

  "I'm here, Michael. I'll never leave your side."

  "I know. I've always known."

  Then: Michael

  The sun beamed down a guided path as I trailed along Highway 2, taking the Great Northern Road trip. I dro
ve up and over the volcanic Cascade Range, climbing above sea level. I took in all the wonders along with way. The Columbia Plateau, the Grand Coulee Dam, and the Idaho Panhandle before climbing into the western Montana. I was on a journey to claim a life I didn't deserve, a life I took for granted and a life I was going to beg to get back. I didn't need music or company on this long trip. My regrets sat along for the journey. Soon, I would be walking my daughter down the aisle and giving her to a man to love and cherish her. A man much better than myself.

  I rolled down the window and held my arm out, enjoying the feel of the wind. It was early May, and everything was blooming. I hadn't missed it, and I would never take another moment for granted. Remission was the word my oncologist said just five days ago. I was cancer free. And I was going to get my wife back.

  I took pleasure in making this a long county road trip. Sure, the freeways would have been faster, but I had almost a month before Monica's wedding, and I wanted to use this time to focus on life. I had been given another chance, and this time, I would slow down to appreciate everything in this life that was here for me. Things I discarded and never saw the beauty of. Jill was one. A young girl I used for pleasure and to feed my selfish ego. The limits I put her through, never giving her the love or desire she deserved. I wanted her back long before the cancer started. But I was too late.

  It was two years after Jill found me with Cami. Though my business was successful, my life was spiraling downhill, and I needed to grow up. I thought chasing the corporate dream and women would satisfy all my desires. But, I was only fooling myself.

  Each night, I felt empty when I put my head down to sleep. My mind roamed back to my time with Jill and my baby girl. I would lie awake wondering what they were doing, how they would now look and who was the lucky guy to have Jill as his own. A woman with youth and beauty, with the heart of a mature woman. I had found that this quality lacked in every woman I met. But the problem wasn't always them. I was with the female version of myself. Taking and never expecting to give. I thought since I had plenty, I would give when I chose. Only to find I had nothing because of my unwillingness to give. They say when a woman sleeps with a man, part of her soul goes with him, leaving less for the next man. But what does that say for the man who took it? Thinking he has the right to damage her for the next. I hated to think this was what I was doing, and I did it to the woman who gave me everything. The woman who saw me as perfect in her eyes, and I was far from it.

  One night, I jolted up in bed, determined to get her back. In the middle of the night, I booked a flight to Michigan and landed when the sun was rising. I rented a car and drove around the little town, where I was once a husband and father. I couldn't believe how much I missed this place and the little nest Jill had made for us.

  I drove past my old home, now her house, and I wanted to run inside. I wanted to smell and touch the good memories I had there. The memories I never knew I had until they were all gone. I wanted to pick her up, spin her around in my arms and promise her a life of happiness and promises. I would never break her heart again.

  After the second day, she never came home. So, I went and waited at the hospital. There she was, leaving in her car and I followed her. She didn't go home. She didn't go to her friend Tammy's or her parents. But we ended up outside of town at this farm. I pulled back, careful not to be spotted, and watched as she ran into the arms of another man. God, it hurt, and I deserved every bit of that pain. I then recognized the man as Drake Daniels. I soon discovered he had become a Doctor of Veterinary. Monica followed behind them, running down the porch steps with a slew of dogs chasing after her. After Drake held and kissed Jill, Monica jumped up in his arms, and I saw the happy family I could have had.

  I drove on back to my hotel and stared at the ceiling until I could no longer count another spot on the tile. I showered, drove down to Clementine's and ordered myself a round of bourbon. Maybe tomorrow I would send flowers and meet her at the hospital.

  Taking a shot, my eyes fell on the two of them walking in. Oh, she was even prettier than the day I met her. And she had aged to perfection. She was wearing the black dress the night of my Christmas party, and I had to wonder if she saved it to remember me by. But the only thing I gave her were terrible memories. The dress gave me hope. Until I watched Drake get down on one knee and asked my wife to marry him. She had gotten the proposal she had always wanted—and deserved. She said, yes, and the two them look so happy. I took another shot when she came walking right towards me. Her eyes were full of tears and for a moment. I thought she recognized me. I turned when she bumped into me and apologized. She hadn't recognized me—and I had lost. I walked out wished her the best. Because she deserved it.

  Now, here I was, twenty years later, driving home with one last chance life had given me. I thought back to the first day of chemo and the letter I began writing to Jill. I poured myself into that letter with all the words I never said. I had no idea how I would get it to her and wondered if she would even care.

  Another week, more chemo, and I would add to that letter. I was the only one there who didn't have a spouse or friend with me. And…that was my own fault. An elderly lady who was scheduled for chemo on the same days befriended me and she told me of a long and wonderful life she and her husband had before he passed away five years ago. I thought of Jill as an old lady and what she would have to talk about when it came to me. And, I knew what that would be.

  "Let me tell you this, son," Ruth, my chemo companion, would say. "It's those first years of marriage that are tough, and, sometimes not so good. That's because while we are learning who our spouses are, we still don't know who we are ourselves. And we can do a lot of damage in the process. Let me tell you." She would laugh, and it would somehow shine a little light on our dark days. I thought how I knew it all as a young man, but next to Ruth, I didn't know shit. Especially when it came to love. Her talks and small gametes of wisdom helped me to craft my letter to Jill. She asked me once if I had any children. I didn't know how to respond. Monica was now in college, and I hadn't seen or spoken to her since she was three years old. I wanted to talk about her. Show her pictures of my beautiful daughter, but I had none. And then I thought about the pictures I destroyed.

  I began to cry when my phone pinged. Hoping it was the jet center, I looked as an excuse to hide my shame. It was a miracle, and when I looked up at Ruth, she smiled and pointed to my phone. "I bet that's her."

  How'd she would have known will always be a mystery. It was a friend request from Monica Danforth. My daughter wanted to meet me. At that moment, I had someone real in my life. I accepted and read her message.

  Hi, Dad. In case you don't recognize me, I'm your daughter. I don't really remember much about you, or that you and Mom were married. I'm in college now, and I was hoping to meet you this summer. I don't want anything, so don't worry if I'm asking for money. I just would like to meet you. Your daughter, Monica Danforth.

  My fingers trembled as I accepted and messaged her back. As soon as I accepted her, I was able to open and look at all her pictures. Years and years, I had missed. She was beautiful, just like her mother. And then, there she was; Jill. The two of them on a beach having a mom and me day, the caption said. Jill was still so young looking, and the two of them looked like sisters.

  I scrolled through more and smiled at all the silly Jill and Monica together pictures. They had gone on, were happy and I wished I was part of it. There was no mention of a stepfather, Drake. Nothing in her post or pictures suggested Jill had remarried. I messaged her back and asked how soon she could come and that I would pay all her expenses.

  "Here's my daughter," I said, showing Ruth the pictures. "She coming to see me." My words had all the proudness of a father, and for once, I felt something I had been missing all my life. Belonging.

  "She's gorgeous," Ruth said.

  "Yes, she sure is. Just like her mother."

  "Are you two no longer together?" I shook my head. "Oh, what a shame."


  "It sure is. But if I had the chance…" I looked up at my chemo drip, now almost empty and silently prayed. "I'm going to get her back."

  "Good for you," she said and padded my hand.

  I was still in my chemo treatment when Monica came to visit. The thought went through my mind of having her come after my chemo was over. But I had wasted enough years of not seeing my daughter. I couldn't believe my eyes when she stepped off the plane. Like she always knew me, she ran into my arms with a big hug.

  "Hi, Dad. It's good to see you. How've you've been?"

  "We'll talk about me later. I want to hear all about you." Maybe I would not tell her about the cancer.

  She told me all about college and her boyfriend, Jordan. The years growing up in Michigan and her mom. "Mom never remarried," she said out of the blue.

  "I thought I heard once she was engaged." I wanted to know what happened. But Monica said she didn't know. She told me she loved the man and he was kind to her and Jill. But never knew what happened. I let it rest there, but later I would ask more questions.

  The week turned into a few more weeks, and I hated to see her go. That's when I told her about the cancer. After that, she stayed all summer and cared for me, taking me to treatments and holding my hand. She met Ruth, and the two of them talked of young life and old life. I could see so much of Jill in her. I had indeed been blessed with a wonderful daughter. And I had left her behind.

  By the end of summer, she had to get back to school, and we made a pack. I would live to walk her down the aisle. She said, "Dad, you'll live to do a lot more."

  I kissed her before she boarded the plane and I made her promise not to tell Jill. I wanted to do it my way. I wanted Jill to fall in love with me. The new me.

  Ruth passed away a year later. I attended her funeral and met her wonderful family. When I was handed a book at the funeral, I asked what it was for. Her daughter asked if my name was Michael Danforth. I told her it was.

  “My mother instructed this cookbook be given to you. I’m not really sure why. I’m just granting her last wish.”