by Jules Dixon
“You ready to go?” I brushed Sage’s hair to her back and cupped her shoulder blade.
“Yeah. Have a good weekend, Oliver.” She smiled his way.
“Bye, Sage.” He didn’t extend the same to me but I didn’t expect him to either.
I helped her into the truck before I said something to him I might regret. But I never regretted anything. I meant what I said and followed through.
The rush hour to west Omaha was a bumper-to-bumper one.
“How are you feeling?” I squeezed her bare knee and my fingers rubbed small circles, enjoying the delicate skin under them.
“Pretty good, a little tired and a lot hungry. How about you?”
“Doing good.”
“Tell me about your day.” She laid her head on my shoulder.
I relayed the few routine tasks I’d completed because there were several contracts I couldn’t give specifics on. Confidentiality was number one in the business. I told her about Lake’s surprise visit.
“And she just gave up on helping to choose the finishes? No real protest?”
“It was odd and really weird for Laken. Usually the baby throws a fit to get her way. Maybe she’s growing up, but whatever the reason, she’s good with you helping, if you are.”
“I’d love the experience, Rahl.”
“Next week, Tuesday evening work for you?”
“I’ll put it in my calendar.” She dragged her phone from her purse and typed into her calendar.
“Did you call your doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Good, and when do you get in?”
“Same time, same date, two weeks from today.”
“Why not sooner?”
“Because he didn’t have any open appointments.”
“What kind of doctor can’t get someone in when they aren’t feeling well?”
Her breathing altered to a shallow pant and her body stiffened, like this morning.
“He’s a specialist. And, sadly, he’s extremely busy. I didn’t cry anymore today, so I’ll be fine to wait.” She waved the conversation off, but the specialist part was all I’d heard. Loud and clear, like a howitzer in the night.
“What does he specialize in? I’m assuming not tetanus shots.”
I never forgot anything but the lie seemed insignificant now, knowing she was seeing a specialist.
Sage took a deep breath and released one word on the exhale. “Oncology.”
“Cancer?”
“Yes.”
My brain jolted with the confirming word. “Do you have or did you have?”
“That’s a complicated question, Rahl.”
Not to me.
“Let’s pick up carry-out. This conversation needs to happen sooner rather than later.”
“Probably.” She leaned back into my shoulder, and that was the last thing we said to each other until we got to her apartment.
We both changed into casual clothes and ate dinner while sitting on her sofa. The subject of the oncologist had yet to make its way into the conversation, but it would. She wouldn’t get to ask for another day or later, it was time to come clean. Both of us.
“So, you’re okay with Easton and Laken?” Sage took a bite of her salad.
“I won’t act like I support it, but I won’t try to stop what’s happening anymore.”
“Well, that’s probably a good way to look at it. Your sisters seem so wonderful. Growing up as an only child, I was really jealous of other kids who had siblings.”
“They have their moments of wonderful. Fiona is definitely more grounded than Laken. I do regret not being able to attend Fi’s wedding to Tyson two years ago. I was in Afghanistan and couldn’t get leave.”
“I’m sure she knows you were there with her in spirit. Ask to see her wedding photos, and she’ll relive it with you. Every woman eats that up.”
“That’s a good idea, Sage.” I tipped my beer for a long drink.
A good idea that sounds like torture, but I’ll do it anyway.
“Thanks, and thanks for feeding me again. I should go work-out tomorrow morning before I meet with Presley.”
“I’ll go with you, if that’s okay?”
She placed her empty container on the coffee table, leaned forward, and kissed me. “Definitely okay.”
Guiding her onto my lap, I spent some time showing her how much I missed her last night and today. Our mouths shared caring words without a syllable being spoken. She broke the connection and her forehead burrowed into the side of my neck.
“Why do you need to see an oncologist, Sage?”
She played with the hem of her shirt. I skimmed my hand on her back, trying to alleviate whatever anxiety was causing her to twitch.
“I already told you my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer at age thirty.” I mumbled in acknowledgement. “Well, I was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was eighteen. Right out of high school I found a quarter-sized lump in my right breast. Due to family history, I was tested for BRCA1 and BRCA2. I hit the lottery of horrific genetics and have both mutations that increase a person’s odds of getting numerous cancers.”
“That sounds like a lot for an eighteen-year-old to take.”
“It was. Anyway, after talking to a team of genetic and oncology specialists, and weighing the less-than-pleasant options, I elected for a total mastectomy, removing both the breast tissue as well as my nipples and areolas, then I completed chemotherapy. Later, I had reconstructive surgery.” She pointed. “That’s why the perfectly round and not nearly as soft lady lumps.” Her eyes dropped from mine.
I tried to keep my reactions even. Her information was hard to hear but I could tell she was healthy. Or is that just a brave façade?
She continued with a softer voice, “The team of doctors also told me my best shot at a longer life was to take my uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes because of my substantially increased chance of cancers of those organs. I told them no. The reality of not ever having kids was too hard to imagine … and accept.” She swallowed and her chest rose choppily.
Her voice turned strangled and raw. “I should have just agreed. The chemotherapy put me into early menopause, a permanent form of birth control. I don’t ovulate, so I don’t have a period, haven’t for almost five years. I’ve seen several specialists, been tested multiple times, and all agree that if my fertility hasn’t come back by now, it never will. The last doctor estimated that there’s a one in a million chance that my fertility will return.” Her head dropped farther. “Just another statistical probability that my life is based on.”
“Sage, I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone.” I tugged her closer.
She raised and released her shoulders. “My grandparents were there for me. I’m alive and that is the important thing. I’m tested for various cancer signs and blood diseases that accompany chemotherapy aftereffects every six months.” Sage’s gaze became distant. “Thus far all is good but the black curse will return someday. It’s really not a matter of if I’ll be diagnosed with cancer again. In my case, it’s when.” Her eyes met mine and she pursed her lips. “Rahl, I’m telling you this so you know that choosing me isn’t a forever thing. My body is a temporary shell to the afterlife.”
The words crushed me like being run over by a M1A1 Abrams tank.
“Don’t talk like that.”
The defeatist attitude she was spouting tore a cavity open somewhere inside of me, and the raw feeling reminded me of a time not so long ago when I was physically split open. The emotional pain right now was almost as unbearable as the physical pain back then.
“It’s the truth. I’ve had to accept it. It’s not fair to offer you forever when that’s not statistically probable.”
“There’s always an opportunity to prove modern science wrong, Sage. I’m willing to take the chance.”
“But then there’s my body. It’s not normal. It’s different.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to take your shirt off yesterday
?”
Sage’s body shook before tears collected. “I really don’t want you to see my scars and I don’t have … normal nipples. Plus, I know implants are a turnoff for some guys.”
I tipped her face up. “Sage, nothing, and I mean not one thing about you is a turnoff. You are the most beautiful woman to me. I have scars on my body, too. You’ve seen my biggest one. I took a bullet in Afghanistan, lost my spleen and a lot more blood than I should’ve to still be alive. I died twice on the operating table. The second time they thought I was gone. But here I am. I came back to life by a nonmedical intervention.”
Her eyes brimmed with shimmering silver lakes along her lower lashes.
I continued, “That’s why I was sent home and discharged from the military. I’m no longer qualified for service.” My body chilled as I told her things I’d never told anyone. “You’re the first girl to see my scars. I understand your reluctance to show me. It was hard to let you see what is a constant reminder to me of lots of things.”
“That scar is intense looking. I can’t imagine the pain you went through.”
“Probably not unlike what you went through.” I caressed her back. “Sage, I am okay with never being a dad. It’s more important to me to find someone to spend my life with than someone who can give me children.”
“I think you should take some time to think about that, Rahl.”
“I don’t have to.”
Her huff told me she didn’t believe me.
“So, the one candle on your birthday cake?” she asked, tracing the lettering on my t-shirt.
“That birthday was my second first birthday and I’m not going to waste the opportunity that my buddies didn’t get. The three dog tag tattoos are for the ones who didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Rahl. Can I see your tattoo again?”
“Can I see yours, Sage?”
She frowned, not understanding, then sighed in resignation. “I forgot you probably saw some of my tattoo on lemon-drop night.” She blew out a long breath. “Fine. But promise me, if it’s not something you can deal with, you’ll say something right away.”
“I promise.”
Sage moved to straddle my lap and sat facing me. Her heart beat rapidly through the skin on her neck. She grabbed for the bottom of her t-shirt and I stopped her hand. With my other hand, I cupped the back of her head, pulling her to me and tilting her head as our lips met. Her tongue flicked my lips and I joined her. The kiss became more insistent and more emotional, almost as if she thought it would be the last kiss we ever had.
It won’t be.
Sage slipped from our kiss and her arms tremored while lifting her shirt above her head. She twisted her arms behind her and her body seemed to collapse in.
“Let me, please.”
Her mouth opened to speak. Instead, she just nodded.
I cradled her back and carefully released the clasp on her bra. “Ready?”
She nodded again.
Her pink bra dropped onto my lap as my eyes floated between the two perfect round mounds. A stunning watercolor tattoo decorated her left ribcage, painted over her left breast, trailed to the right breast and brushed up and over her right shoulder. Pale pink flowers with bright pink centers floated delicately on a thin dark twig across her lightly bronzed skin, and two flawless blossoms sat where her natural nipples would’ve been. The tattoo seemed to hover on her skin in reverence to what she’d been through and the scars that were barely visible.
I rested my hands at her bare waist, my thumbs rubbing carelessly in small circles. She visibly shivered at the touch and goose bumps pebbled her chest. I flattened my hands against her skin to stop what seemed like a reaction showing discomfort.
“What’s the flower?” I asked.
“It’s the cherry blossom, a symbol for new life. Cherry blossoms only last a few days, so it’s a visual reminder for me to live life like today is the last day I’ll be here. Someday, Rahl, it will be.”
“Sage, the tattoo is a perfect symbol of what you’ve been through.”
Her brown hair swung from side to side. “But … I have scars!” Her hands pointed viciously at her body, lifting her right breast and then her left one. “See! Here and here!” She raised her voice as her face flushed. “And I don’t have nipples!”
She panicked over something that, although it helped me understand her pain, wasn’t significant to me in terms of attraction. I brought my hand to the back of her neck and lightly massaged. She sighed a small release of tension. I tipped her head toward me and guided her forehead to mine. Her hands rested on my shoulders.
“Sage, neither of those things changes how I feel about you.”
“I hope so, Rahl.” She sat up straight, crossing her arms to shield herself. “Now it’s your turn to finish sharing.”
I handed her t-shirt back, but to my surprise she didn’t put it on. She placed it beside her and rested her hands on my thighs.
I breathed deeply, reached up, and tugged my t-shirt over my head. “These were my three best friends in the army. Knox Carter, Ryan Fisher, and Evan Rattner.” She visually examined the tattoo. “They all died in the same battle that ended with me in a hospital. I’ve never told anyone this, and if you find me crazy after, I won’t hold it against you.”
I paused while Sage floated her fingers over the tattoo. She traced the heartbeat lines, from the strip the surgery team printed off for me of my heart dead and then coming back to life. Then she traced around the dog tags and my chest tightened.
“When my heart stopped the second time during surgery, all three of them—Knox, Levi, and Evan—were there waiting for me on the other side. I didn’t know what was going on. They wouldn’t talk to me. They kept shaking their heads and shoving me back through a door behind me. I left them and came back to life. I remember the whole event better than any dream I’ve ever had.”
She stopped outlining the dog tags and our eyes met. My eyes blurred, filling to the brim, but I fought the release of emotion. The guys wouldn’t want me to cry. I couldn’t.
I continued, “The doctors said they thought the equipment in the OR was broken when my heart started to beat again. I really shouldn’t be here, so it’s important that I live life as a real gift, because it is.”
She held my jaw. “Thank you for listening and sharing, Rahl. Even if we don’t go the distance, I want you to know that I appreciate the fact that you wanted to know me better.”
Her lips glided over mine. The gentle touch seared the moment in my memory. Her bare chest crushed to mine, molding her against my heart.
But not having forever with her…
Chapter Sixteen
Sage
That was about as fun as chemotherapy.
I yanked my t-shirt back on and excused myself to the bathroom to sit on the closed toilet. A lot like I used to do when I was a little girl and needed to be alone in Mom’s tiny one-bedroom apartment. Only this time, I didn’t play with a Barbie or read a book. I cried. There were so many open and raw nerves on and in me. Rahl was struggling, too.
He died? Three friends brought him back to life?
Almost seemed too impossible, but there’d been several nights while I was deep in the trenches of treatment when I wanted to die, and Mom would come to me during a dream and tell me that tomorrow would be better. She was always positive of the fact. So I would fight through. Usually she’d been right, and when she wasn’t, I would yell at her in the next night’s dream. She’d smile and tell me how much she loved me. And I’d keep going.
The life I lived was a tribute to courage and mostly stupidity. The multiple radical surgeries would’ve ended the majority of the black blight’s terror. But now I lived in fear. Every six months after a full-body scan, I was given a reason for why I’d felt extra sad, mostly tired, semi-happy, never hungry or always full, or if there was something causing obscure pains, hot flashes, cold flashes, pins-and-needles somewhere, itchy skin, etc. The list of hypochondria symptoms
could’ve gone on forever. And now my crying had me wondering. Is it back?
I collected myself and made my way out to the living room to plop down on the couch.
“Hey.” Rahl rubbed my arm. “Been kind of a heavy night, huh?”
“Little bit.”
“Want to hit the hay?”
“Rahl, did you ever sleep with Presley?”
Why did I ask that?
His eyebrows furrowed. “No, Sage. You’re the one and only person I’ve had sex with since I got back to Omaha.”
I rubbed my face. “That really wasn’t any of my business, Rahl. I’m sorry.”
“You’re welcome to ask me anything. There may be things I don’t want to discuss at length, but if you ask I’ll at least answer you.”
Silence made me jittery. I sat in a chair away from him. “I can handle it if you decide to just be friends after what I’ve told you.”
He leaned forward balancing his elbows on his knees. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I don’t have a normal life expectancy. I won’t live to a normal seventy-five plus years. If I hit half that I’ll be outliving what any doctor would expect.”
“Maybe they expect too little? What if they told you that you would live until you were that seventy-five plus years, would you believe them?”
“At this point, probably not.”
“Then you’ve given up, Sage. You’re not fighting for anything close to seventy-five years.”
“You don’t know what it’s like.” Every breath jerked in and out of my chest. “I was given a death sentence before I was twenty. I fought to be here but I’ll be honest, I don’t think I have that fight in me again. You don’t know what chemo does to a person.”
His eyes widened, but his voice stayed calm. “Yes, I do. My father passed away from cancer eleven years ago. So yes, Sage, I do know. No, not personally, but I saw the effects. The mouth sores, the loss of appetite, the vision problems, the—”
“I get it. Now you’re an oncologist?” My heart pounded in a weird rhythm.