Love Undecided

by Denise Wells

  “Is that what this is all about? Some stupid fucked up notion that you aren’t good enough? Or that I’ll get tired of you? Of the cancer? Is that even your decision to make? No! It’s not! You are not qualified to make that decision. You think it’s so bad that I’ve only known you for the time that you’ve had cancer. Well, baby, that’s all you’ve known of me either.

  “So, what the fuck? Do you need someone who treats you bad? Who forgets about your treatments? Who doesn’t want to put you on a fucking pedestal and worship you? What? Only women who DON’T have cancer get those things? What about all that bullshit you’re spewing during your pep talks to the cancer patients? Is that just for their benefit? More of your ‘do as I say but not as I do’?”

  I want to fucking hit something. I can’t believe the absurdity of this conversation. How can she really feel this way? Does she really think so little of herself? So little of me?

  “This is absolute and complete bullshit, Kat!”

  “Keep your voice down,” she says.

  “I will not fucking keep my voice down. If people don’t like it, FUCK THEM.” I look at the ladies at the next table, sure that’s who she is referring to, they look away quickly. I keep talking.

  “YOU do not know everything. You may think you do, but you don’t. Just because you’ve got your fucking intuitions going in your head and get to help the police with shit does not mean that you have a handle on anything else. Especially not relationships and even more so not a relationship with me.

  “The fact that we are even sitting here with you thinking that you are cutting me out of your life is pathetic, Kat. So fucking pathetic. Don’t you think that if I didn’t want you then a month into our relationship, when you were first diagnosed, would have been the best time to end it? So, what, you think I’m going to put myself through that, put you through that, put our families and friends through all that just to leave you later? Are you that fucking insecure? That closed off? Well?”

  I know she doesn’t have an answer to that. I can tell by the look on her face. But I need something from her right now. I need her to admit she’s wrong. That I’m right. That we will be together.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she whispers.

  She starts crying.

  I’m such an asshole.

  I don’t want to make her cry. I want to make her listen. I want to make her understand. I want to make her change her mind. But I never want to make her cry.

  “Fuck, Kat.” I lean across the table, grabbing her face in my hands and trying to wipe her tears with my thumbs. She’s so fucking beautiful. Even when she’s upset. How could I do this to her? What kind of a monster am I?

  “God, baby, don’t cry,” I tell her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you or make you cry. You just make me so frustrated sometimes.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” she says. “I’m frustrating and you’ll get tired of it and then you’ll leave.”

  “Kat, I asked you to fucking marry me.”

  “When there was no evidence of disease!” She starts crying even harder.

  “Jesus Christ. Was I supposed to ask when you were in treatment? My bad. I’ll do it differently next time,” I say.

  “Brad, it’s never going to go away. Never! It’s always going to be with me, hanging over my head like a black cloud just waiting to rain toxic poison all over my life. I will never be able to live a life without knowing the cancer will come back. I won’t live a full life. It will kill me. It’s just a matter of when.”

  “Everybody fucking dies, Kat.”

  “I know, but not like this.” She moves to blow her nose, and it makes a loud honking noise, which makes her laugh. Before I know it, she’s bent over in her chair laughing and crying at the same time, sounding almost hysterical. Sure that she’s having some sort of mini breakdown, I move to her side of the table and pull her into my arms.

  God, she feels good.

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay. Shhh. I’m here,” I tell her. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.” I push her hair out of her face where it’s sticking to her tears. “You’re so beautiful, Kat.”

  And then, even though I know it’s wrong, and even though I know she probably won’t reciprocate, I lean in and I kiss her.

  But she opens for me and it feels amazing. I grab her head and deepen the kiss.

  I’ve missed this.

  I feel like everything is right in the world. In this one moment, my life is perfect.

  “Brad?”

  Kat pulls away from me. I look at her, but she’s looking behind me. I stand and turn around.

  Fuck.

  Stacy.

  What the fuck is she doing here?

  “Aw, Stace… Shit…”

  Stacy looks like she’s ready to cry, her eyes watering as they shift back and forth between Kat and me.

  Perfect. Now I’ve made two women cry today.

  “I… I was just going to see if you wanted to get dessert after your lunch,” Stacy stutters. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. But I can see now you are fine… really… more than okay. I’m… I’m gonna go.”

  And with that she turns and runs away.

  “FUCK! I’ll be back.”

  I turn to go after Stacy. Then realize if I do that, Kat will leave.

  “Kat, don’t move!” I tell her.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  Chapter 40

  Kat

  I sit there, stunned.

  What the fuck just happened?

  I stand up, throw a bunch of money on the table, and head for the nearest bar, pulling my phone out to text Lexie and Remi as I go.

  Shit. Fuck. Piss. Shit. Fuck. Piss. Shit. Fuck. Piss.

  I find a bar down the street and order a bourbon on the rocks because this is a hella serious situation that is going to require major reinforcements. I know from experience that this, on top of the wine earlier, will not settle well but I don’t care.

  I kissed Brad. I kissed Brad. I kissed Brad.

  Shit. Fuck. Piss.

  What does it mean? Why did I do it? Well, really he did it and I just participated. Right? I mean I don’t think I kissed him first. Did I? Why did he have to look SO good today? Why do my hormones have to be so out of control?

  I made him cheat on Stacy. Oh God, I’m a cheater. I am a horrible person. And she saw us. She saw us cheating on her.

  I finish my drink in one gulp and order another. The heat of the bourbon slides down my body like an elixir.

  He felt so good. So right. So right that I can’t even remember now why I ever left him. Only an idiot would do that, clearly. He’s hot, he’s successful, he’s a fucking fireman! He was the cover on last year’s calendar. You don’t leave a calendar cover fireman unless you’re an idiot. Right?

  And that’s not just the hormones and the bourbon talking. Or is it? I decide to ask the bartender. The place is pretty empty, I’ll probably be doing him a favor by asking him for advice. I wave him over, my vision is a little blurry, and that’s when I remember that I never actually ate my lunch and now I’ve had three glasses of wine and one and a half bourbons on an empty stomach.

  “Can I get some peanuts? And keep ‘em comin’.”

  He brings the peanuts over. “You doing okay?” he asks as I shove an entire handful of peanuts in my mouth.

  I look at him as I chew, he seems nice enough, and he’s got soft eyes. Mr. Soft Eyes the Bartender, he’ll definitely do until the girls get here.

  “I have a problem.”

  As I talk, little bits of peanut blow all over the counter in front of me.

  “Sorry.”

  I cover my mouth with one hand and try to brush the peanut bits to the floor with the other.

  “Is it a guy?” Mr. Soft Eyes the Bartender asks.

  “Isn’t it always?”

  He nods his head in agreement.

  I start talking. “I left him, but for a very good reason, but he always kind of hu
ng around and I know he still loves me and I thought I was over him, only now I think I want him back, except I asked him to lunch to break it off for good, but then he kissed me and pretty much rocked my world, until his girlfriend showed up and caught us, so now I’m a cheater and a horrible person and not only did I not break it off for good, but I kissed him, and she saw and now it’s just going to be a mess, and all I can think about is how good he looked and how great he felt.”

  I pause and take a big breath. He nods his head in agreement. I keep talking.

  “See, I had cancer and he was wonderful all the way through it and we were going to get married and there was going to be fireworks because he knew I had fireworks on my list, and it was going to be amazing, and then the cancer came back two weeks before the wedding and I broke it off with him because it’s not fair to him that he be tied to someone he just has to take care of all the time and who might die or throw up or lose her hair or something else equally horrible.”

  I pause again to take a breath, a drink, and a few more peanuts. Mr. Soft Eyes the Bartender slides me a glass of water, looking at me thoughtfully.

  “You’re the lady who sees the future and helps the cops, aren’t you?” he asks.

  “Well, not exactly. I mean I’m probably the person you think I am, but I can’t see the future like what you’re thinking. I can just get a feeling sometimes about what might happen. But it doesn’t happen all the time and I can’t really control it.”

  “Can you see my future?”

  “Well, that’s part of the part that I can’t really control.”

  “Then how’d you help the cops catch that killer?”

  “I keep wondering the same thing,” I mumble.

  He moves down the bar to help a new patron and I sit there intermittently putting peanuts directly in my mouth or tossing them in the air and trying to catch them in my mouth. I’m five for five with catching them in my mouth so far. Parlor tricks and bar games are my specialty. I spent a lot of time in bars as a criminal defense attorney.

  Mr. Soft Eyes the Bartender comes back. “So, you’re her, huh?”

  Didn’t we already cover this?

  “I guess I am.”

  “But you can’t tell my future?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Hmmph. Want more peanuts?”

  I nod my head in response.

  Maybe his eyes aren’t so soft after all. I pour my entire heart out to him, looking for some sort of guidance and advice about my life and all he cares about is his future.

  Then I laugh at the irony.

  I’m on my third bourbon and probably my fourth bowl of peanuts, when I start to wonder where the hell Lexie and Remi are. I say as much to the older guy nursing a beer a few stools down. He just looks at me.

  “What part do they not understand about emergency 911?” I ask a little slurrily. I hold up my phone to make sure I’m still getting reception, squinting slightly at the glowing screen.

  “They really need better lighting in here,” I tell him. He just looks at me.

  “Not a big talker, huh? No biggie. I’m a talker enough for both of us. I’d really like to be talking to my girls right now, but they aren’t here yet and I don’t know what’s taking them so long. I texted them forever ago.” He continues to look at me.

  “If they don’t get here soon, I’m gonna have to start talking to you.” I point at him and giggle.

  “And I’m pretty sure you don’t want to hear what I have to say. Nope. ‘Cause, it’s about a boy. Well, a man. A fireman to be exact. But I like to say boy in the same way I like to say puppy. You know? Like all dogs are puppies and all men are boys. Except for Brad, he’s a man. Oh and my last drunk fuck, he’s a man too. And so is Bauer. Jack Bauer. Twenty-four.”

  I start laughing again.

  “Get it? Jack Bauer? Twenty-four?”

  He just looks at me.

  “Oh pashaw!” I flick my hand at him.

  I look at my phone again. “He keeps calling you know. Sexy Ex. Not Jack Bauer. ‘Twenty-four’.” I laugh at my hilarious joke again.

  “And I just keep hitting ignore. Boop! Just like that. Boop! And the call is gone. Sent off to never-never land. Boop!”

  The older guy just continues to stare as he drinks his beer.

  “Cheers!” I say, raising my glass to him. At that he raises his glass ever so slightly in my direction.

  “Ha!” I say, feeling victorious that I finally got his attention.

  I look at my phone. “Nope, no new texts.” I motion to the bartender. “You haven’t seen my friends have you? Lexie and Remi?”

  He shakes his head and refills my water glass. “And I don’t have any new texts, right?” I hold up my phone to show him.

  “No,” he says. “But you do have that one there that you haven’t sent yet.”

  “Which one?” I pull my phone back to look at it more closely. He leans over the bar and points to the screen.

  “That one,” he says, pointing to my earlier emergency 9-1-1 text to Lexie and Remi. I look again.

  “I never sent the goddamn text!?!?”

  “You never sent the goddamn text,” he confirms.

  “Better hit me again barkeep, it’s gonna be a while.” And with that I hit send. And then I make the bartender double check, just to be sure.

  Chapter 41

  Kat

  Remi gets there. She gives me a hug, then orders herself a dirty martini, extra dirty, and me a cup of coffee and a burger with fries.

  “Oh, a burger with fries, that sounds good, God why didn’t I think of that? You’re a genius, Remi!” I look at her gratefully.

  Then I launch in to the retelling of my lunch with Brad, how good he looked and how the ladies at the next table clearly thought so as well. How he was so angry and how hot that was. And finally the kiss and then of course, Stacy. The thought of Stacy makes me want to puke. I bury my head in my arms on the bar top.

  “Ohmigod Remi, what was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking that you were going to marry this man and you love him, sweetie. There is nothing wrong with that.”

  “No I wasn’t! I called off the wedding. I’m an awful person! I’ve had sex with total strangers. I didn’t even ask their names. And I’ve wanted to have sex with Bauer. You know that right? That I’ve wanted to have sex with Bauer? I’ve had fantasies and used my vibrator. And I came. See what a shitty person I am? Oh God, that’s why I have cancer, isn’t it? Because I’m such an awful person.”

  Remi laughs. “Sweets, any woman in her right mind would use a vibrator to rub one off to Chance Bauer fantasies. That’s normal, it doesn’t make you an awful person. And I will never ever admit that again because I can’t stand the man and he drives me crazy.

  “And if you ever tell him I said that, I will pull your tongue out and feed it to my imaginary cat. But as far as kissing Brad, he had already told you he still loves you, we all already know you’re still in love with him even if you don’t always like to admit it. So, really, the problem is with Brad. He has no business being in a relationship with Stacy when he is still in love with you. He’s in the wrong.”

  Lexie comes bouncing in. “I can’t stay long,” she says. “I’ve got a hella busy night at the winery. We are racking all the Cabs and I’ve got to get back, it’s going to take most of the night. Oh, yummy, food!”

  I fill her in on what happened at lunch today as she eats the bulk of my burger and fries and hugs me intermittently while murmuring the appropriate empathetic and outraged epithets. Then, far too soon for my liking, she gets up to leave. She gives me a long hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “What? No earth-shattering words of wisdom as to how I should fix my life?” I ask her.

  She thinks for a minute, then says, “In the words of Sam Baldwin, ‘it was a million tiny things that, when you added them up, they meant we were supposed to be together… and I knew it.’ It’s the same with you and Brad.”

  Remi and I bo
th look at her blankly, not getting the reference.

  “Come on, guys!” she says, “Sam Baldwin? You know, Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle!”

  “Ohhhh,” Remi and I say simultaneously.

  Lexie rolls her eyes at us, then says, “Quit fighting it, Kat. Just choose to be happy and have that happiness with Brad.” And with that, she blows us a kiss and is out the door like the little whirlwind that she is.

  I turn to Remi. “That was a really good movie. I’m surprised we didn’t think of it the other night.”

  “Are we not going to mention the other things she said?” Remi asks.

  “Nope,” I tell her. I take a look around the bar we are in. “I think I’m done with this place. I need chips and salsa. And maybe a margarita.”

  Remi laughs. “We can do chips and salsa, but I’m not sure you need a margarita. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 42

  Brad

  I run after Stacy, finally catching up to her in the parking lot. “Stacy, please stop, just talk to me.”

  She stops and turns to me. “There’s nothing to say, Brad. On some level I knew this day would come, I just thought you were man enough to tell me first and not cheat.”

  “It just happened, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I have always had feelings for Kat, and I was honest with you about that.”

  “I know,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “You’re right. I guess I just thought with time that would change. It didn’t seem like she wanted you back. I just wish you would have said something to me.”

  “I meant to, last night, but then I was paged, and I already had these plans with Kat… “

  “Save it, Brad,” she says. “I don’t need to listen to your excuses right now. You’re right, you never promised me anything, but you still stayed with me, and that’s got to count for something.”

  And there it is.

  I knew that was coming and it made me sick to my stomach. Because she’s right. I loved to pretend that as long as I told her I wasn’t emotionally invested it didn’t matter what I did. But I was wrong.

  “You’re right, Stacy, and I’m sorry for that. It was wrong of me to do.”