by Robin Huber
Since this is our first official date in years, I pulled out all the stops. My hair is falling down my back in loose waves. And I’m wearing a black miniskirt, a flowy ivory silk tank top, and black high heels that wrap around my ankles.
“Wow,” Gabe says, getting up from the couch, “you look amazing.”
“Thank you. So do you,” I say, taking him in from head to toe. He’s wearing a black suit with tobacco brown dress shoes, and a white shirt that’s unbuttoned at the collar, showing off his tan skin. And his hair is darkened by whatever product he put in it, complementing his dark lashes that frame his eyes.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
He takes my hand and leads me down the stairs outside.
When we get to his truck, he opens the passenger door for me, but he shuts it before I can get in. I turn around and he puts his hand against the door. “I’m sorry I have to take you out in this old truck. I’m going to get a new car soon.”
It doesn’t take me long to realize that he noticed Travis’s car today. “Gabe, I love this truck. I don’t want you to get a new car.”
He pulls his eyebrows together and lowers his chin. “I can take care of you. I know I don’t show it off the way some people do, but I make a good living. I can give you nice things.”
“Where is this coming from?”
“I know your life in Raleigh was different...fancier than it is here. I just want you to know that I can give you that too.”
I put my hand on his chest. “Gabe. Stop. I know that you can provide for me. But I don’t need you to. I don’t want the life I had in Raleigh. I just want you.” I drop my hand and pat the truck behind me. “And this old truck, because it’s part of you.”
He smiles softly and nods. I’m not sure if I’ve convinced him that he doesn’t need to compete with Travis—I think it’s hardwired in a man’s brain to size up and exceed his competition—but Gabe won that race long before Travis even entered it.
He opens the door and I slide in quickly before the humidity knocks the waves out of my hair.
Gabe gets in and starts the engine.
I smile and take his hand as we pull out onto the road that leads to town. The sun is glowing orange beyond the tall pines, illuminating the lacey moss that’s hanging from the oak trees. It looks like gold dripping from the branches—a parting gift from the sun as it sinks toward the horizon, leaving behind a cloudless indigo sky and the promise of a fun evening with Gabe.
Chapter 20
Liv
Trisha has been texting me all morning, but I was too busy moving out of my parents’ house to check my phone until now.
Trisha: I cannot believe he showed up there.
Trisha: What are you doing? Call me!
Trisha: Helloooo
I call her while Gabe is grabbing the last of my boxes out of the back of his truck.
“Oh my God. I cannot believe Travis came there anyway,” she says as soon as she answers.
“I know. Me neither. But at least we tried.”
“I really thought my reinforcement at the gym would have deterred him. I feel terrible.”
“It’s not your fault. I should have known he would come here anyway, out of spite if nothing else.”
“I can’t believe your boyfriends got into a fight over you. I’ve waited my whole life for something like that to happen to me.”
I laugh over a frown. “It was sort of awful, for the record.”
“Well, at least it’s over with now, and you can move on with your life. And in with Gabe. Yay!”
“Yes.” I laugh and watch Gabe carry in two boxes stacked on top of each other. I smile at him. “Trisha, I love you, but I have to go. I’m being a total slacker. Gabe is carrying all my crap up the stairs by himself.”
He looks at me and mouths, yeah, slacker.
“Wait! What’s your new address? I want to send you a housewarming present.”
I smile and give her Gabe’s, I mean our, address.
I still don’t know if I’m going to stay once my condo is move-in ready. Maybe I could convince Gabe to move there with me. But I’m growing more and more fond of this place, especially the beautiful tree-covered property it sits on.
Gabe squats down and takes Roxy’s floppy ears in his hands.
And I’m especially fond of its tenants.
“I’ll call you later, Trish, okay?”
“Okay. Tell Gabe I said hi, and that I’m really sorry about Travis.”
“Not your fault, but I will.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you. Bye”
I hang up and look at Gabe. “Trisha says hi.”
“Did you thank her for sending your ex-boyfriend down here to fight me?”
“Ha. Ha. She feels really bad about it, not that she should. But she told me to tell you she was sorry.”
He leans against the boxes on the table. “She’s forgiven.”
“Well, that’s very big of you,” I say, making my way over to him. I kiss him softly. “Thank you for bringing the last of the boxes up.”
“You’re welcome, slacker.”
I purse my lips at him. “What did your parents say about me moving in?”
“The same thing yours did. They want me to make an honest woman out of you.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again. “I guess you better not let them down then.”
He shakes his head and kisses me. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Are you ready for your appointment? We need to get going.”
“Yep.”
* * *
I hold Gabe’s hand and attempt to stay calm while we sit in the waiting room at the neurologist’s office. I’m a bundle of nerves, but Gabe seems cool as a cucumber. I guess this must be normal to him by now. He’s been seeing Dr. Franklin for the last eight years. I haven’t been here since I was twenty-one when I came to some of his early appointments.
Dr. Franklin performed Gabe’s surgery after the accident and Gabe still sees him regularly to monitor his seizures. But today’s appointment is to discuss the surgery that could possibly eliminate the seizures altogether.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.
“Gabriel,” a nurse calls across the waiting room.
He stands up and pulls on my hand. “Come on.”
“Are you sure I’m allowed to go back with you?”
“Yes, come on.”
I follow him back to the small examination room.
“Dr. Franklin will be right in,” the nurse says, before closing the door.
I stare at the posters on the wall that depict the human brain. One shows it in three-dimensional slices. Gabe points to it. “That’s where my scar is. The temporal lobe. That’s where they’ll have to go in.”
“Gabe, just know that whatever you decide, I support you, okay? You don’t have to go through with the surgery if you don’t want to.”
“I know.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Hello, Gabe,” the doctor says as he enters the room.
Gabe reaches out and shakes his hand. “Hi, Dr. Franklin.”
“Good to see you, son. And who is this?” he asks, turning to me.
Gabe smiles and says, “Dr. Franklin, this is Liv.”
I see realization flash across his face. “Liv. Yes.” He shakes my hand with both of his. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has. It’s good to see you too.”
He turns to Gabe, clipboard in hand, and takes a seat on the rolling exam stool.
Gabe and I sit down in the chairs across from him.
“So, Gabe, I understand you want to talk about the surgery I’ve been pushing you to have for the last six months. Why the sudden change of heart?”
Gabe looks at me and then back at Dr. Franklin. “It just feels like the right time.”
“I see.” He glances at me and smiles. “Well, I’ve given you all the risks, told you what�
��s involved. It’s really up to you to make the decision. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a perfect candidate for the surgery. I think we have a very good chance that the seizures could cease completely.”
Gabe pulls his eyebrows together and the little line appears over the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I understand. But would you mind going over it all again?” He glances at me. He wants me to hear it firsthand.
“Absolutely,” Dr. Franklin says, picking up his cue. “As you know, there’s a scar on the temporal lobe of your brain that’s causing your seizures. It looks like a little spider web about the size of a golf ball. It’s residual scarring from the blunt force to that part of your brain during the accident. We removed most of the damaged tissue, but there was a lot of swelling, and well, we were just trying to keep you alive.” He smiles briefly, but the thought knots my stomach. “Aside from the scar, your brain has completely recovered. So, if we go back in now, I can make a clean cut and remove the scarred tissue.”
“But won’t that just leave a new scar?” I ask.
“It will. But a clean scar almost never causes seizures.”
“Oh.”
“The surgery has a seventy percent success rate.”
Seventy percent? That’s it? I assumed it was higher. “What about the other thirty percent?”
“Those patients still have great improvement, much fewer seizures that are more easily controlled with medication.”
“But you’re already taking medication, right?” I ask Gabe. I’m suddenly filled with questions I can’t contain.
He nods and Dr. Franklin answers for him. “We’ve tried several different medications on Gabe, but they’ve become less and less effective. Even if he does still have the occasional seizure, the medication would be able to do its job and greatly minimize the frequency.”
“Okay.”
“There’s no way to predict which percentile Gabe will fall into, but a temporal lobectomy is the only way to ensure decreased seizure activity.”
“Guess it’s a no-brainer then,” Gabe says, laughing at his pun.
Dr. Franklin smiles. “So, let’s talk risks. Because this is brain surgery and I would be remiss not to paint the full picture.”
I chew the inside of my lip. This is what it all boils down to.
“Complications can arise. Usually one out of every fifty patients incurs some kind of adverse side effect from the surgery. That might be depression, change in personality, partial loss of vision, speech problems, memory loss...”
My face screws up as I listen.
“Death.”
“Death?” He could die from this?
“I’m not going to die, Liv.”
“You can die from a tonsillectomy,” Dr. Franklin says to me. “Surgery is surgery. But Gabe is right. And I’d put money on him pulling through with flying colors. I wouldn’t suggest the surgery if I didn’t already believe that. Gabe is a good candidate. This surgery will change his life. It will give him back a normal life. Yes, there are risks involved, and I want you to be aware of them,” he says, looking at Gabe. “But in this case, the risks don’t outweigh the benefits.”
Gabe looks at me and nods. “So, what’s next then? How do we get started?”
He’s going to do it.
He’s going to do it.
I’m suddenly filled with fear.
Depression, change in personality, partial loss of vision, speech problems, memory loss, death.
I’m not sure how death is categorized as a side effect. The risks swim through my head like a frenzy of sharks.
“Well, first you’ll meet Dr. Connelly, a fellow neurologist who will perform the surgery with me. Then we’ll start the evaluation process. You’ll need an EEG, CT scan, MRI, PET scans...”
It all starts to run together.
“It’s all routine.”
“I’ve had most of them before,” Gabe reminds me.
“It’s our way of making sure Gabe’s brain is healthy and up for the challenge of the surgery. It’s a good thing,” Dr. Franklin assures me.
I bob my head. It’s all so overwhelming. “Okay. So then, when would he have the surgery?”
“I’ll have to get with scheduling, but as long as we can get through the evaluation process fairly quickly, I’d say in a month or so.”
A month. Okay. If he had said next week, my heart might have exploded. A month should be enough time to wrap my head around it.
“How long will I be out?” Gabe asks.
“It’s not a quick recovery, I won’t lie. You’ll need to be monitored in intensive care for the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours for infection, bleeding, stroke...”
He could have a stroke?
“All highly unlikely, but we’ll monitor you just in case. Then you’ll remain in the hospital for about a week. After that, you can go home, but you’ll have limited activity for several weeks.”
The crease has reappeared over the bridge of Gabe’s nose.
“You’ll need someone at home to help you.”
“I’ll be there. I’ll help him.” I look at Gabe. “I’ll take care of you.”
Gabe takes my hand and nods. “Okay. Where do I sign up?”
Chapter 21
Gabe
I gather up the papers that my lawyer sent me to review before the surgery—a living will and power of attorney. Ultimately, Liv will be able to make the final decisions about my condition if I can’t. She just doesn’t know it yet. And neither do my parents. So before I head to his office to drop these off, I need to swing by the house to see them.
“Hello,” I call as I walk through the door. I smell something cooking and know that my dad is in the kitchen.
“In here,” he calls.
I walk in and find him standing in front of the stove, working over a pan of sizzling hot andouille sausage links. “Just in time,” he says when he sees me. “Biscuits are in the oven. Don’t tell your momma, they’re store bought, and still a heck of a lot better than hers.”
He winks and we both laugh. My mom has a lot of great qualities, but cooking isn’t one of them. My dad learned how to cook when he married her so they wouldn’t starve to death.
“Secret’s safe,” I say, grabbing a piece of the smoky sausage out of the pan.
“Hey now.” He nudges me back a few inches with his elbow and it quickly turns into a game of block and tackle. I would be the one being blocked and he would be the one being tackled.
My mom walks in as we hit the floor. “Gabe! Get off your father!”
“He started it.” I smile wide at my dad, a man of considerable size, who is now pinned beneath me.
“You stole my sausage,” he groans.
“I was hungry. Besides, I thought you’re not supposed to be eating greasy food anymore.”
“He’s not.”
“That girl not feedin’ you?” my dad says, ignoring my mother. “Don’t marry a girl who won’t feed ya, now.”
“Hey!” my mom interjects.
I let him up. “You don’t worry about me, old man. Liv can cook.”
“It’s like I’m not even here,” my mom says, throwing her hands in the air.
“Aw, Momma, you know we love you.” I pull her into a tight hug. “You make a mean cup of coffee.”
My dad grins. “Now how about you get your cute little French butt over there and make us some,” he says, winking at her.
The corners of her mouth turn up as she sashays over to her espresso machine. “At least I know I’m good for something.”
“Aw, baby, you’re good for a lot more than that.” They share a suggestive look.
“Okay, can you two knock it off? I was planning on eating breakfast with you, but I’m starting to lose my appetite.”
“You’re staying for breakfast?” my mother sings.
“I was going to, but...” I scrunch my face up and shake my head.
My dad laughs. “Oh, Gabe, it’s good to keep the romance alive in a marriage after all
these years. You’ll understand that one day when you’ve been married as long as we have.”
I pull my hat off and run my hand through my hair. “Speaking of that...”
My mom gasps. “You’re going to ask her to marry you, aren’t you?” Her eyes widen with excitement.
“Well, I, um—”
“Gabriel North, you marry that girl,” she orders, before I can finish. My mom knows that I finally decided to go through with the surgery for Liv, something she’s been asking me to do for a while now. She thinks Liv will take care of me the way that she can’t anymore. She isn’t wrong.
I laugh. “Calm down, Momma, that’s the plan.”
She gasps again. “Oh, Gabriel!” She hugs me.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” my dad says, slapping me on the back. “When are you gonna pop the question?”
“I don’t know yet. I just know I want to marry her.”
“Of course you do, bébé, of course you do,” my mother says, placing her small hands on my face. “Elle est l'autre moitié qui vous rend entier.” She is the other half that makes you whole.
I nod my head. “I know, Momma, I know.”
“You talked to Duke about this yet?” my dad asks.
“No, but I will. Just keep it to yourselves for now, okay?” I place my hands firmly on my mother’s shoulders and repeat, “To yourself.”
“Oh, Gabe, really. I know how to keep a secret.”
I give her a slanted look.
“All right, I promise. Not a word.” She presses her lips together.
“Do you think you’ll do it before the surgery?” my dad asks.
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
Neither of them say anything and it makes me uneasy.
“What, you don’t think I’m going to pull through?” I laugh, but I would be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Hence the legal documents on the passenger seat of my truck.
“Of course we don’t think that!” my mom says.
“Okay, well that’s reassuring.” I laugh again. “I’ll let you know when I decide.”