by Julia Blues
Two short vibrations reminds me why I’m freezing. I grab the phone from the back end of the tub, see two missed calls; two new voicemails. Both are from my mother-in-law. I call her back.
“Is everything all right?”
“Well, hello to you too, Sydney.”
“It’s been a long day. Sorry if I seem short.”
“If you say so.”
“And what does that mean?” I put the lid down on the toilet, sit on top of it with the towel still wrapped around me. Don’t know why, but it feels like a draft has blown through all of a sudden. Makes me shiver.
“I haven’t forgotten what you said at the hospital.”
Here we go again. “Maybe not, but you seem to have forgotten I also said it was nothing.”
“Look, Sydney, I’m trying my best to get along with you for the sake of my son. You don’t make it easy.”
I lean my head against the wall, slightly bang it a couple of times hoping to bang out this conversation taking place. It doesn’t work.
She continues. “I don’t know why my son married you.”
As much as I’ve tried through the years to be respectful, this woman has made it hard. A daughter-in-law can only take so much abuse before keeping the peace in the relationship between mother and son is no longer a concern. I’ve never wanted to cross the line of respect, never wanted to go off on my husband’s mother like my mother didn’t raise me any better. Today, she’s caught me on the wrong day and at the wrong time. “Your son chose to marry me. He made that choice even after knowing how you felt about me. That says more about you than anything. So tell me, what’s really the problem?”
After a deadening silence, Elaine says, “Eric is awake and is asking for you.”
50
SYDNEY
Nerves do a number on me as I walk through the doors to ICU. Feels like any minute I should be sitting on somebody’s toilet. The last time my husband’s eyes were on mine, they held more contempt than a judge toward an out-of-order attorney in court.
I stand in front of the window to his room. The blinds are open. I see him, see him looking at me. It’s almost as if he felt my energy, felt me coming before I even arrived.
I nod.
He blinks slowly.
“It’s a blessing,” an approaching voice says.
I grab the familiar hand of my father-in-law as it wraps around my waist. Lean my head on his shoulder. “It is.”
“Your name was the first thing he said. Called you before his eyes even opened.”
Mr. Holmes’ words make me raise up my head. I give him a kiss on the cheek, squeeze his hand.
He rubs his other hand on top of mine. “You know my wife means no harm. Eric is our only child and she can be overprotective.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
He sighs. “She just… We both want what’s best for him.”
I squeeze his hand again and move toward the door. As I walk into the room, Mrs. Holmes walks out. She says nothing, neither do I.
Eric studies the tension between our nonverbal exchange. Watches her walk out, watches me walk in. Takes notice of the space between us. His eyes close.
I shut the door once my husband’s mother leaves. I nod at my in-laws through the blinds, then close them. Keep all outsiders outside of this room. My eyes focus in on the man I married. He’s still bandaged up, face still puffy from the blow. I walk over slowly. As I approach, his eyes reopen. I sit in the chair his mother was sitting in by his side; place my hand on top of his. “You scared me.”
“Thought you’d be here when I woke up.”
“I wanted to be.”
His hand moves underneath mine. “Where were you?”
“Went home to check on the kids. Had to make sure EJ wasn’t driving my mom crazy. You know how he can get.” I chuckle, both at our rambunctious son and to help calm my nerves some.
Eric looks through me, penetrates my thoughts. Searches for answers to questions I have yet to be asked. Questions I’m not sure I want to be asked or that he would want to hear the answers to. He slides his hand away from mine, reaches for his mouth.
“Wait, don’t touch. Is it itching?”
“Yeah.”
On the cart on the other side of the bed is some ointment and gauze. “Let me put some of this on to help.” A piece of glass from the accident cut the side of his mouth; had to get stitches. I dab lightly at it. “That better?”
His fingers wrap around my wrist, pulls my hand down. Looks deep inside me again. “We’re not okay, are we?”
I use my other hand to remove his from mine, place it on his lap. Take the gauze and throw it in the trash by the door. A shallow breath barely fills my lungs. Feel tears on the surface, but I exhale them away, turn back toward the bed. I look at my husband, press my lips together, and shake my head.
He says, “I can feel it.”
My legs grow weak. I sit back down by his side. “Do you remember what happened before the accident?”
He doesn’t look at me, he closes his eyes instead. “I remember more than I want to.”
The door opens. A woman in blue scrubs enters the room. A clear bag in her hand. “How are you feeling, Mr. Holmes?”
“I’m alive. Guess that counts for something.”
“Of course it does.” She nods my way while checking his temperature. “You must be his wife.”
“I am.”
“Met his parents earlier. Such sweet folks. Good to see someone cared for. Sometimes people are in here for weeks without anyone coming to see them.” She removes an empty bag and replaces it with fresh meds. Lowers his bed a little.
“Can’t imagine what that feels like,” I say just so she won’t feel like she’s talking to herself.
She writes a few things down on a piece of paper. “You think you’re ready to eat, Mr. Holmes?”
“Not right now.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll leave the menu with your wife, and maybe you’ll be ready by the time I come back.”
The moment she walks out, I tell Eric, “Why don’t you try to get some rest.”
“I’ve been resting for a couple of days now.”
“I know, I know.” I reach for the remote hanging off the back of the bed. “Want me to put on the news?”
“We can’t keep skipping around our marriage, Syd.”
He’s called me Syd for years, but all of a sudden hearing it makes me think of Brandon. Damn these thoughts. “I’m not trying to. Just don’t think right now is the time to go there.”
A heavy gust of air bursts from his nostrils. Settles him for a bit.
“The kids want to come see you. When I told them you were awake, EJ was so happy he ran circles around the dining room table.”
“How’s Kennedy?”
“Confused. Hurt. Doesn’t understand why her dad hates her teacher.”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I hang the remote back up. “What were you thinking, Eric?”
He shakes his head, shakes it like he’s trying to keep a bad thought from entering his mind.
I’m concerned about his head injury. “Are you hurting?” I reach for the button on his bed to call the nurse.
“It was Michael.”
I pull my hand back. “That’s what the reports from some of the people at the school said.”
“I was standing with Kennedy and her teacher talking about how good she’s doing with her math. I didn’t know Michael had gotten out of the car until he started asking Mr. Carter all these questions. He mentioned you and the teacher being at Riverpoint holding hands and seeing you two riding in your car together.”
“He had no right,” I interrupt.
Eric reaches for his mouth again. This time I let him. He touches the stitches, touches around them. Feels around the rest of his face. Then plops his arm back in his lap. “Was it true?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me, Sydney.”
I thin
k about what I said. It was the truth. I wasn’t at the park with our daughter’s teacher. He’s never been in my car. It was a case of mistaken identity, but Eric doesn’t need to know all of that. I get up from the chair, give my butt some relief. Walk over to the window and look outside. I watch as the sun makes its descent.
My mind reminds me how Eric and I began with a lie. How we couldn’t face our own insecurities enough to tell the truth of what we wanted. He denied himself of being with the woman he really wanted. I denied myself of loving me enough to know he wasn’t the one for me. I couldn’t love him out of his love for another woman just as much as he couldn’t love me out of my fear of ending up lonely like my mother. These years have proven that. We’ve wasted all this time running from the truth and ended up running right into it.
“I don’t want to live this lie anymore, Eric.”
51
BRANDON
Life as I know it changes the moment I walk through my apartment and see my mom bent over my wife. Mom’s sniffles could be heard and her tears could be seen ten states over.
I came home to think, to have a moment to process everything that’s happened over the past few days. Coming here was a far stretch for peace, I know, but I wasn’t expecting this.
“Is she—” Can’t bring myself to say it.
Mom comes over to where I’m standing at the foot of the bed, hooks her arm around mine. “She’s still here.”
Rene’s eyes are closed, her arms clasped around Bear. I don’t know what I was thinking bringing her here. Thought I could will her back to life with my love. But I couldn’t do that before I knew about the cancer, so how would that work now? She didn’t want to come here, didn’t want me to be part of this part of her life. She knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it. She pushed me away, made me pack up and move on with my life without her because she knew that ultimately I’d have to live without her.
I walk over to the bed, see Bear barely rise and fall against my wife’s chest. I drop to my knees, plant my head against hers. “I’m not ready for you to go.”
Mom gets down on the floor with me, her arms wrapped around my shoulders. Does her best to comfort her broken son. “We talked after you left. She never meant for any of this to happen.”
None of us ever mean for things to happen the way they do, but that doesn’t stop them from happening. Rene tried to beat cancer once. It came back. No matter how much we try, it’s impossible to change destiny. This is hers.
My lips touch her forehead, do the same to my mother’s hand. I get up from the floor, look on table next to the bed for Rene’s cell phone. Scroll through the contacts until I run across William’s number. He doesn’t answer. I don’t leave a message. Told him I could do this on my own, told him I didn’t need his help anymore. I was wrong once again. This is something I was never meant to handle alone.
My finger dials 9-1-1.
• • •
These are the final moments of my wife’s life.
Soon as we made it to the hospital, I told my mom to go ahead and check on Andrew. There was nothing else we could do for Rene at this point. At least that’s what the doctor told us. All they can do is pretty much make sure she’s as comfortable as possible. It’s only a matter of time.
A matter of time.
Time is everything. The thing is, we never know how much we’ll have. Our son didn’t have much time with us. We were just getting to know him, learn his likes and dislikes, qualities that would shape him in the years to come. Years we’d never see, years we’d never share with him. Just like we didn’t know our time with him would be cut short, I never thought my time with my wife would be cut short. When we married, when we said those vows until death… You don’t realize how soon that time could come.
A nurse walks in to check Rene’s vitals and interrupts my thoughts. The avoidance of eye contact lets me know we don’t have much longer.
When the nurse walks out of the room, I walk over to the woman I married nine years ago. All I can do is stand here and watch. Watch her clutch Bear as she sleeps. I pull the covers up over her shoulders. Tuck her and Bear in comfortably. A smile slowly spreads across her face; she grips Bear even tighter, if that’s possible. Part of me feels she’s nearing the bright light. Getting closer to reuniting with our son, her parents, those whose lives she touched once they reached their end. For a moment, those thoughts loosen the hold on my heart. They erase the anger that’s built up over time for the only woman who’s had my heart. A broken heart can only hurt so much before it becomes numb. She did the best she could.
So did I.
52
BRANDON
Rene and I are at the beach in Destin walking hand in hand.
She’s happy.
I’m happy.
It feels like it did in the beginning of our marriage, when we’d come and walk the beach every weekend and share our dreams with each other until the sun would fall behind the other side of the ocean. We were so in love, had so much hope for our future while living and enjoying the present. We’d talk about how we couldn’t wait to have a house full of kids. Growing up an only child, she wanted ten kids. Having a twin brother, I’d only wanted two. But I’d give her as many as she could have. We had our whole lives ahead of us to make it all come true.
“Why did we ever leave here?” I ask.
“Hmm, seems like we haven’t been good with making the right decisions.”
Her tone catches me off-guard.
Rene stops walking, bends over, scoops up a handful of sand and resumes walking. With each step, she lets go of a pinch of sand. Not taking her eyes off the sand, she asks, “When were you going to tell me about her?”
It’s my turn to stop walking. “What are you talking about, Rene?”
“C’mon, Brandon. Let’s not play games.”
I ask, “How’d you know?”
She drops another pinch of sand. “A woman knows when her husband has eyes for another woman.”
I neither deny nor acknowledge her assumption.
“I have cancer not dementia. Neither am I blind.” She turns to look at me. “I saw how you two looked at each other at the closing. More importantly, I felt more in that room than I actually saw. Felt enough to know lines had been crossed between you two.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Everyone always says that when they get caught cheating, only for it to turn out exactly how it was thought.”
“That was weeks ago. Why didn’t you say anything then?”
More sand falls from her fingertips. “I was hoping you’d be man enough to tell me.”
“Just like you should’ve been woman enough to tell me about the lump in your breast.”
“That’s not fair, Brandon, and you know it.” She tosses the rest of the sand from her hand, then picks up another clump. Tries to buy more time.
“It’s the same thing, Rene. True, I should’ve told you. Just like I had a responsibility as your husband, you had a responsibility as my wife.”
The sky turns from blue to a myriad of orange and pink as the sun begins to make its descent.
“Did you sleep with her?”
I tell the truth. “Yes, but not when you think.”
“Doesn’t matter when you go there. Just matters that you did.”
“You shut me out of our marriage. What did you expect me to do?”
She drops another pinch of sand. “Do you love her?”
I don’t have to think hard. “No.”
That settles her for a minute.
We keep walking toward the edge of the earth. Neither of us share words. Both of us in our own thoughts. My mind on where we’ll go from here. Something tells me her mind is on the same.
Rene breaks the silence. “Will you make love to me?”
That wasn’t what I was expecting, but I nod. She drops the sand, dusts the remnants off on her dress. I slip out of my shoes, put my keys and wallet inside, toss my socks on top. I grab her hand
and lead us to the water.
My wife kisses me with so much passion. It’s a kiss she never wants me to forget. I slide my tongue in her mouth where it remains as we tread deeper into the warm saltwater. She wraps her legs around my waist. I enter her ever so slow, scared I’m going to hurt her, but also because I want to make this moment last until the end of time.
It’s a little difficult loving my wife the way I’d like because my feet have no footing. I kick backward a little until I feel firm sand under my feet. “Better?” I ask.
She nods.
“I never stopped loving you,” I say as I hold her close to me.
“I know.” She holds my face in her hands, plants tender kisses all over my face, stopping momentarily on my lips. “I didn’t make it easy.”
“You were scared.”
“That’s no excuse.”
I make love to my wife slow, give her the utmost affection. Whether she told me or not, this is the woman I chose to marry in sickness and health. She’s all I’ve ever wanted. She’s always been enough for me. With each stroke, I apologize for giving up so soon, for packing up and moving out of the home we shared together. I apologize for stepping into the arms of another woman for comfort. “I’m sorry, Rene.”
I know this is the last time I’ll ever be inside her. It’s hard not to think about that as she moans in my ear. Moans I’ll never hear again.
“It’ll be okay, Brandon. You’ll be okay,” she says, reading my thoughts.
It’s not what I want to hear. In ways, I don’t want to be okay, don’t want to get over our love nor do I want to love someone new.
Rene turns my face to hers, makes me look her in the eyes. “I forgive you and I need you to forgive me.”
Deep in my heart, I know she was doing what was best for her. Selfishness and wanting to hold on to the anger would be the only reasons I wouldn’t be able to forgive her. I don’t know what it’s like to watch close family members die. Nor do I know what it feels like to know you’re about to die. I can’t let her leave this life knowing I couldn’t forgive her, or myself for that matter.