Beautiful Beast: Part 1 of 3

by Jenn Marlow

  As they all climbed the stairs in unison, Alex found herself bestowing the looks on all of their faces. Their spirits were lifted; all of them. The night brought out several more men than usual, and some were heavy tippers. And because of the increase on profit and decrease on efforts, everyone seemed to possess a smile on their face. Even Alex.

  Dancing commenced as soon as the girls were back to their dressing room. And over the boisterous music, a pop of champagne sounded and fizz spewed over the back of her arm. Alex turned around to see who the culprit was and saw Holly holding the bottle, feigning an apologetic emotion. She definitely wasn’t surprised.

  “To the celebrity strippers dancing for all those pathetic men and allowing us to escape!” she screamed with incredible enthusiasm. “With a shit ton of money!” Holly giggled before taking a giant swig. The disturbed carbonation caused the liquid to bubble and flow relentlessly from the bottle and pour down her face as she did. She laughed and Alex wondered if any of it had actually gone down her throat. She too laughed at the woman she was somehow proud to call her friend.

  The laughter reminded her of something she hadn’t felt in a while. Then, it hit her. She was finally allowing herself to actually feel an ounce of joy, and it was the first time…in a long time. As if enlightened with tingly goodness and happiness, Alex snatched the bottle away from her friend and took a celebratory drink as well.

  And then it happened. After a few drinks and a couple of hours of actually socializing with the women who surrounded her, she found that she had fallen victim; she had fallen victim to the temptations of fun and found herself dancing and laughing with her coworkers. She was truly happy—even if just for a moment—and she couldn’t believe it.

  “And cheers to Alex for getting that stick dislodged from her asshole!” Holly sounded again over the music. She had seemed to find another bottle of champagne from somewhere, and downed it before dancing wildly against every woman in the room in a strange hybrid of seductive comedy.

  Alex found herself laughing at it all again, and she too followed suit and danced—not against or on anyone, but around the entire dressing room loft. She felt goofy and free and found it refreshing; it was a nice change of pace from her usual nights.

  But then it happened. Just as one of her favorite songs came on, just as soon as she was beginning to relish in her all of her sudden happiness, it all changed. Reality came knocking with a wrathful vengeance against the door of Alex’s life, and she was immediately reminded why joy didn’t come easily to her and why she hated being swept away in it.

  Her phone rang with dread. And on the caller ID it read: Dr. Morris.

  And she knew it was bad.

  It was never good when Dr. Morris called.

  She hesitated as she hovered over the screen. She didn’t want to slide it to answer, but she knew she couldn’t ignore it either. She took a deep breath and swiped the answer tab…

  Hoping with every ounce of optimism that she could muster that it was just a follow-up call of sorts, she answered. God. She answered. With a single gasping, “Hello,” she answered. Dr. Morris’s tone was direct as he spoke, and it was then that she knew that her worst fears were about to be realized.

  “Hello, Ms. Miller?” he asked, and she hesitated as if she could somehow will herself to not be Alex Miller anymore. “This is Dr. Morris,” he said, and she wanted to blurt out an audible, “NO SHIT,” but she refrained.

  That direct tone made her crazy though. It wasn’t loud in volume, but it was almost deafening. Her ears and heart ached from the tone because they knew what it meant. And in reality, she wished that she could literally go deaf in that moment…in the moment before she knew what happened to her brother.

  Despite herself, she choked out a silent “Yes,” in response and allowed him to proceed. She noticed—all of a sudden—that she could hear him quite easily without having to strain her ears. It was unfortunate that she could…because she really didn’t want to hear what was about to be said…but nonetheless she wondered why.

  She shook herself from the concentrated daze she had been in listening to the voice on the other end and noticed the environment around her. Her coworkers were being quiet. Where once the room was filled with laughter, music, and sounds of glass clanking together as they drank with ease, it was silent. It was as if, in that moment, all of them were clairvoyants and knew that they had to simmer down, as if they knew the news was bad news.

  None of them watched her or stared unnecessarily or excessively. They were just hushed, each woman busying herself with another task or speaking quietly to the person closest to her. It was something special for all of them to quiet their music, let alone themselves. It didn’t happen. Not ever.

  She could tell that they knew the struggles she faced, and they wanted her to be able to hear. Although a huge part of her was touched, there was still a part of her that wished none of them had known the story or known that anything was out of sorts in her life or even anything about her life at all. She kept them separate for a reason. Not only because it was her personal life—but because she couldn’t stand pity.

  She also wished they hadn’t been so damn quiet. She wished that she could count on them to be themselves. She hated the pity, yes, but most of all she just wanted to prolong the heartache that was likely to follow from listening to the speaker on the other end of the call. Their silence allowed for her to face it sooner rather than later, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  And then she heard it.

  “He’s being monitored,” he began, and she couldn’t help but be thankful he wasn’t dead. “Your neighbor called an ambulance when she found him unconscious. He had already called her and told her he was feeling ill. When she went to check on him, he was unresponsive.”

  Chapter 4

  Alex found herself with Holly in the car headed downtown, towards the hospital. She couldn’t bear to think that she was just having fun while her brother was unconscious on the floor. She couldn’t have been there, she knew that, but it didn’t stop her from feeling horrible that she was having fun in that moment. Fun. Fun. Fucking fun. Denny’s cancer wasn’t fun. He couldn’t have fun—not like a normal teenager. So why should she? Why should she be afforded that luxury?

  She felt the road rush beneath the tires. She felt every bump, every crease, more than she ever had before. She wondered whether it was her senses in overdrive or if her poor and pitiful car was finally giving out. She wondered if maybe this was a sort of adrenaline rush. She had never experienced one, but she had heard people talk about them. She wasn’t even sure why she was so far along the edge. This wasn’t the first time she had been called from the hospital; and it wouldn’t be the last, she was sure of that.

  Before she even realized what was happening, she found herself rushing through a bright hallway alongside Holly. She wasn’t sure if she should be worried that she was fading in and out of awareness, but she wasn’t. She really didn’t care. She felt like she was floating through the hallway into the unknown and all that surrounded her was white. White tile, white walls, white lights…if she didn’t know better, she’d think she was dead…until she saw a sea of blue scrubs and white coats at the end of the hall she had been racing down.

  Among the sea of blue and more white, she saw him. Dr. Morris. He stood six feet tall with salt and pepper hair. He was thin but had a strong jaw and large distinguished chin, which gave him a more masculine complexion. He had kind gray eyes and a genuine smile; but it wasn’t the same smile that was etched on his face when she approached. The smile he currently wore wasn’t disingenuous in nature. It was still kind; it just wasn’t a happy or reassuring smile. It was a smile of sadness, and one purely for comfort. “Ms. Miller,” he began, but Alex abruptly interrupted him with a hand gesture.

  “Just tell me if he’s OK,” she said with a little more panic than she realized she was experiencing.

  “He had gained consciousness by the time I arrived here at the hospital
. They contacted me right away, so he wasn’t out too long. We’re running tests now,” he said before giving her a reassuring shoulder grab. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her mouth went dry with anticipation. She was feeling discomfort from every area in her body. Her feet ached from exhaustion; her breath was quick and shallow; her head pulsated with a likely incoming migraine; and she felt a nervousness that she hadn’t felt in quite some time.

  Dr. Morris grabbed her shoulder again and turned her away from him before moving his hand away from her shoulder and to the small of her back. He led her to a nearby waiting area and instructed her to sit. She hated this part. The sitting, the waiting, it was torturous really. She may as well have been a prisoner trapped in solitary confinement. No windows, no people, nothing but herself and her thoughts. And though she knew she had other people in her realm of sight, and even—or perhaps especially—Holly who sat beside her, it was enough to drive a person insane.

  Her nerves were shot, and she grew even more anxious with every tick of the clock. She didn’t know how many physical minutes it had been. She had lost all sense of time and didn’t bother looking at the clock that hung on the wall. She just listened. She listened to the small clicking sound, and she knew time was moving, even if it didn’t feel like it was.

  Another mode of time-telling was the constant movement from beside her. Every now and then she would feel a brush on her arm and see a figure in her peripheral disappear and then a few moments later reappear. Holly was obviously getting up and returning, and Alex couldn’t be sure if she was jittery or if that much time had passed. She really didn’t know. It seemed as if a lifetime had passed, but it also felt like they had just arrived at the hospital. It had been both forever, and no time at all; and she couldn’t fathom what in the blue hell that actually meant.

  And then he appeared. As if a fucking knight in shining armor, riding a goddamn white stallion with bejeweled reigns, he appeared. He galloped over, lightly, and genuinely, but she knew the news wasn’t good. That fucking smile again; that forced comforting smile that made her cringe and was almost completely opposite to his actual smile. This smile was completely unattractive; his real smile was something to behold. She hated this pity smile, and she knew she would hate it even more as soon as he began speaking.

  “Well, out with it, Dr. Morris,” she choked out, and his eyes fell to the ground. He shook his head slightly; the action was obviously not meant to attract any attention because she knew that it was an action that denoted sadness, pity, and a tinge of hopelessness. He wasn’t supposed to represent those sorts of emotions. At least, that’s what she assumed.

  “We finished up a few tests and got a CT scan, and we found that the cancer in his pelvis has grown again since his last scan. We had hoped that it would have stayed in a decreased size so that we could operate, but it is back with a vengeance. It’s grown twice as large as it was previously, and we feel that after several rounds of chemotherapy, he’s not responding like we’d hoped,” he said, a tear threatening to fall from his eyes. She wondered if that was allowed; she wondered if he was too emotionally invested because he had been Denny’s doctor for so many years. But she thought that it was absurd. He was a doctor; he should have been used to it by then. He saw kids die often. Why should Denny be any different? But regardless, even if he didn’t feel it for real, at least he could show empathy.

  “He’s not a candidate for surgery at this time. I’m sorry.” He sounded defeated, and Alex nearly broke down until his voice sounded again. “Listen, there is a trial drug, but insurance doesn’t typically cover these sorts of trial runs.”

  Holly stood and snapped at the doctor. It was an act that neither she nor Dr. Morris expected. She had been so quiet before. “Listen, just hook him up on the shit, and we’ll figure out payment!” she spat. Alex had to commend her. It was exactly what she was going to suggest, only a little more politely.

  “I’ll get the payment documents that have all the invoice breakdowns on it. I’ll be right back,” he said before turning on his heel and walking away, his feet clanking against the white tile of the hospital floor. Alex never cared what it would cost; she just wanted to see her brother get through it all, more than a fucking five year survival. Fuck five years. She wanted the long haul.

  Chapter 5

  Alex couldn’t remember what happened exactly. All that she remembered was leaving without Denny. She didn’t even remember physically walking away from him, or the hospital either. She just remembered the scenery changing. One minute, she was talking to Dr. Morris and the next she was in the passenger’s seat of the car and Holly was driving.

  It was strange really; she had no recollection of anything. She had no idea why she left, how she got out the door and through the parking lot, and why she and Holly were traveling with tear stains down their cheeks. And then Holly reached over with her right hand and grabbed Alex’s to comfort her, and it was then that Alex knew for sure that something bad had happened.

  “We will figure it out,” Holly assured. Alex felt like she had lost it on some level because she had no idea what Holly was even talking about; she couldn’t remember. But there was a sinking feeling—one that she couldn’t quite understand—in her stomach that told her that Holly was wrong. They wouldn’t figure it out. There was nothing that could be done. But about what? Alex didn’t understand. She had to ask… no matter how crazy it made her seem. She had to know. Where was Denny and why was he left at the hospital, and why did she not remember anything?

  “Figure what out? What happened,” Alex asked in a panic. She was hoping for some sort of clarity out of her best friend, but instead Holly stomped the brakes suddenly. They were in the middle of traffic, but she didn’t seem to care. She turned to her, a look of worry and sadness all over her. It was then that Alex felt herself unable to breathe. A crushing feeling wore at her lungs with a devastating fervor, as they struggled to get what they needed. But they never did get what they needed; they couldn’t get enough air to satisfy their needs. Before she knew it, she felt her consciousness fade and blackness overtook her.

  When she regained consciousness again, Dr. Morris was there, looking down at her with gentle gray eyes full of pity. She still hated pity.

  When he spoke it was almost like she was listening to Charlie Brown’s teacher mumble on in some unrecognizable language. She gathered what happened to her—in small bits and pieces—as he explained why she was there. He concluded by telling her that she had a nervous breakdown. A fucking nervous breakdown!

  Afterwards, Holly had explained what happened—all of it. The part that troubled her was that she could have possibly forgotten anything regarding Denny. He was in everything. Every memory—the good and the bad—were memories she purposely stored away for later recollection. Just in case.

  But she had forgotten. She had a nervous breakdown. A fucking nervous breakdown! She forgot; she blacked out; and, here she was, weak, in a hospital bed, waiting to be released. She had things to do, and it frustrated her to be incapacitated. She had a brother to worry about, a poor, sick, little brother who deserved better. She couldn’t afford to lose her mind, or to even be trapped in a fucking hospital bed for that matter.

  She had to figure how she was going to pay for Denny’s trial meds. She couldn’t believe insurance wouldn’t cover it. It was in that moment that her anger made her even wonder why she had insurance in the first place. What good was it if it couldn’t cover medication that would potentially save her brother’s life? What good was anything?

  She had to get out of bed. She had to get free; and she didn’t mean from the hospital, she meant from the entrapment of her soul in this whirling mess of disaster. She wanted to be free; she wanted Denny to be free; and she wanted them to live fucking happily ever after. She wasn’t sure why it was so difficult. She wasn’t sure why it was so much to ask for. She didn’t want mountains of gold and a Prince Charming. She just wanted to watch her brother grow up.

  She wanted to w
atch Denny go to college with all his resilient brilliancy. She wanted to see him get married and father impeccably intelligent and well-mannered children, and she wanted to enjoy laughs and hugs for many days to come. She didn’t want a limited lifetime with him. She just wanted him to have a normal lifetime.

  She just wanted to enjoy him past childhood. She wanted to feel less like a caregiver and more like a friend; but she would never experience that if he couldn’t grow up. It wasn’t fair, and she had to somehow make it fair. She had to make it better and she had to make sure her hopes came true. She couldn’t give up. Not on Denny. She was pessimistic, sure. But her pessimism would never cloud her mind with enough gray skied darkness to block her from the shining light of the sun in the distance. She knew beautiful days could be had; she just had to get over the horizon where the sun shined brightly and without fail. She had to get there. She had to get him there with her.

  She knew only one person who could lend her the money that she needed. He always helped her in her time of need. This time would be no different, no matter how much more money she needed. She just didn’t know if she could continually ask him for the money. And she had no idea how much it would total.

  She was already going to request more money than usual, and that was only for his first month of the new drug. It didn’t include anything else. She knew that after she asked him, she would have to come up with another plan. She had to do something else to ensure that she could properly provide for her brother. She didn’t know what another plan would entail, but she knew that she would have to come up with something.

  Chapter 6

  Terrence was a very complicated man. He was thin all over—too thin, actually—except for a rounded beer gut that jutted out from the alligator belt he wore every day. His hair was dirty blonde and shoulder length, with a touch of grease always caked in it. He wore clothes that he thought made him look like a rock star—although she and all the other girls knew that he couldn’t carry a single tune. He was actually arguably tone deaf, for that matter.