by Gina Watson
She could have dealt with the scaling, pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes, even the weight loss, but the loss of her hair sent her over the edge. Standing, she hurled the hair-laden brush into a photograph of her at a fashion shoot for Allure magazine. A holiday spread, she’d worn a red lacy lingerie ensemble edged in white fur. Her body had been full in all the right places and her skin had glowed like she’d just returned from an island in the Caribbean. In fact she had just completed a photo shoot in St. Croix.
Erratically she leaped and in one swipe cleared the wall of any evidence of her former existence. Frames fell to the floor and glass shattered, bits of glass biting into her ankles. She shoved at the vanity table and it banged hard against the wall. The contents on the tabletop jostled to the floor landing in a heap of colored makeup powder and jewelry.
Reaching for her brush she pulled it from the pile of decay and clasped it between her two hands. She raised the brush over her head, as if it were a sword and the makeup her highest enemy. She sent the brush crashing down onto the collections of eye makeup, bronzing powder, colored pencils, and blush creams. She beat on the boxes and glass with repetitive force until she was splattered with cream and colored powder. Her energy waned and she sank to the floor on her knees, stirring up a colorful cloud in the process.
She curled into the fetal position and cried. She would die soon, of that she was certain. She was also certain that she wasn’t ready to meet death and she’d never admitted that to herself before. She missed Parker’s confident indifference, his sexy gait, and his spirit for life and for her. She missed Maura even though she’d seen her every day for the past year. She should have fought for her existence, so precious to her now she’d sell her soul to the devil in exchange for longevity of life. Four weeks ago she’d been given a second chance, a pass that she’d pissed away. What are the odds he’d come back to her? Would he even answer if she called? He’d ripped his chest open, pulled out his beating heart, and offered it to her. She’d looked him in the eye and dismissed him with all the grace of a slug.
“Bailey?”
Propping herself up using her hands, Bailey saw Maura’s concerned face—heard the harsh breath escape her throat as she took in the room. “Bails, you’re bleeding.”
Maura squatted in front of her, inspecting her ankle. Then she scanned the floor around the room. “You may have some glass in your skin.”
“Maura, it’s okay.”
Maura ran her fingertips through Bailey’s thinning hair. “What happened?”
“I just realized I threw away my one and only chance at life. Just threw it away like it was a used tissue. Who does that?”
Maura traced Bailey’s brow with her fingertips. “Someone who is tired of fighting. Someone who deserves much more than she’s been given.”
“I miss him. I love him. He was so kind. I wish my fingertips could touch his skin one last time.”
“Call him.”
Bailey shook her head. “I can’t. I shredded him when I turned down his offer. I can’t hurt him again. No good would come of it.” Bailey closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“I’m going to call in and you and I are going to go to New Orleans.”
Bailey’s hand closed around Maura’s wrist. “No. I’m going to clean this up and go to dialysis. The consistency is good for me. This was just a little pity party. I’m fine.”
“Bails, let me help you.”
“I need to put this behind me. Help me do that. Go to work. I’m meeting Tate at the clinic at nine-thirty.”
Maura nodded. They hugged and then she left. Bailey turned on The Killers album and walked to the bathroom intent on a shower.
***
As Bailey exited her car to walk into the dialysis clinic she heard the sound of a loud muffler. She waited for Tate to exit the beat up blue Chevy pickup her mom drove.
“Bails.” Tate waved and swiftly skipped up to the door of the clinic.
“How’s it going, Tate?”
“Guess what?” The blonde preteen beamed from ear to ear.
“What’s that?”
“I’m getting a kidney.”
“Really?”
She nodded with determination. “Yep. Already picked my date and Mom got me an iPad so I can read and play games while I’m in the hospital.”
They hugged and tears filled Bailey’s eyes at the sheer fearlessness of this young princess. “When’s the date?”
“The third of next month.”
A few weeks away. Bailey smiled down at Tate, and then kissed her head. A fleeting glimpse of fear floated into Tate’s eyes and then flew away as if guided by the wand of a fairy. Tate was scared, but she pushed through the fright to claim her independence from terminal illness.
Tate might not survive the surgery, and if she did there were no guarantees how long her health would last, but she powered through, full steam ahead. “I’ll be there, Tate.”
“You will?” When she nodded Tate squeezed Bailey’s waist tight. Bailey squatted before the child. “When you wake up you’ll see me and your mom and it’ll be the best day of your life.”
Tate cried into Bailey’s neck. “Tate?”
“Oh Bails, I can’t talk to Mom because I don’t want her to worry. I’m scared, but I have to do this so she won’t be left alone. I love life and am willing to fight for more of it.”
“You’re the bravest girl I know, Tate.”
“Not as brave as you. You never cry.”
“You’re much braver than I am. Letting your emotions out requires you to confront your fears. I haven’t done that because I’m too afraid, but you at twelve years of age have done something a woman twice your age can’t—that’s epic bravery.”
Tate squeezed Bailey’s neck so tight she couldn’t breathe. “I think you’re brave. When the time is right, you’ll know. You’re going to live a long time, Bails.”
***
As Bailey walked through the door of her home melancholia settled in. She wished she’d had the time to clean her room before dialysis. She steeled herself, straitening to her full height and squaring her shoulders. “Just a little routine cleaning. No big deal.” She pulled the bucket from the pantry and filled it with warm water and soap. Grabbing the mop, broom, and dustpan, she carted the items to her room. A deep breath had her opening the door to her bedroom. Her photos were ruined and also her make up. Upon closer inspection, one leg of her mother’s vanity had been splintered.
“That’s what you get for acting like a stupid entitled reality television bitch.” She sighed and pressed the button on her stereo. “Come on Will, help me out.” She started to sweep, swaying her hips to the beat of The Black Eyed Peas. Turning it up she sang the tune with The Peas at the top of her lungs. Dancing with the broom she sang with Fergie about having a ball and just losing it all. After several passes on the floor, she had the broken pieces of frame, glass, powder, and plastic from the makeup in a center pile. A little dizzy from her exertions, she decided to take a break. She turned off her speakers and went into the kitchen in search of something to eat.
She’d just pulled a box of pizza rolls from the freezer when the doorbell rang. She carried the box with her to the door. Cracking it open her breath arrested and her body sagged with every emotion that had worked through her in the past four weeks. Her knees gave out and slowly she went down to the ground. She braced for the pain that never came. Instead strong steel arms encircled her.
Parker closed the door and carried her to the couch. His usual delightful scent was cut with something that made her stomach growl. He set a bag of fast food on the coffee table. She smelled greasy beef and fried potatoes. Looking into his face with eyes so intense they blistered her skin she saw determination laced with pain. He wasn’t ready to speak. She sat on his lap, watching him as he scrubbed his face with his large, masculine hand. He pulled her deep into his chest and she cried in his arms. Although she wasn’t loud she hoped her whimpers went unheard. However, she f
elt the moisture she left behind on his shirt. He offered no words, just comfort. And for the first time in her life she realized how wonderful silence could be.
Her stomach rumbled again at the delicious smell. Gently, Parker slid out from under her and walked to the kitchen with the bag of food. Plates clanked and paper crinkled as he unwrapped their lunch. He returned with two plates of burgers and fries and sodas from the refrigerator. Upon sinking her teeth into the first bite she smiled as she tasted the flavors of Willy’s boudain burger. Her smile didn’t last long and suddenly huge salty teardrops splashed to her plate. She set the dish on the couch and with her elbows on her knees she cried into her hands.
On his knees between her legs, Parker pulled her hands apart and forced her to look into his eyes. “Bailey.”
“Parker. I need you. I have no right to, but I need you.” Bailey yowled through her tears, realizing her voice had never been so high in pitch.
“I’m here.”
“Did Maura call you?”
“She did, but only after I’d already ordered two boudain burgers with plans of coming to have lunch with you.”
“What did she say?”
He swallowed thickly, a hollow thud sounded in his throat. “She said it wouldn’t be long now.” His eyes swam with tears.
“Do you hate me?” She felt the gut wrenching pain contort her face, so thin from weight loss the grimace caused her pain. “You were right, Parker. I’m a coward.”
“No. Bailey God, I love you. That verb is not strong enough. Over the past several weeks I’ve tried to imagine what it’s like to live a life with a ticking time bomb inside of me. Not knowing when or if I would wake up the next morning to live another day. I came up with strategies, each more devastating than the last. And then I thought of you, so strong and so full of life even with death inside of you, and I became awed by the thought of it.” He shook his head. “To think that you could even function, let alone live as you’ve done—working, laughing, enjoying the simple things life has to offer. You’re amazing, and the most courageous person I’ve ever met. I’ve been a fool. I’ve wasted four weeks. Twenty-eight days I could have been soaking you into my skin, but no. I was the coward. I didn’t want to consider a life without you in it. But I won’t miss one more second. I’m here to the end.”
Bailey stared at the collar of his tailored shirt to avoid his eyes that she knew would render her speechless. “I’ve often thought that when I died I would no longer be conscious. Therefore, I wouldn’t know what I’d missed out on in life. For some strange reason that comforted me, kept me from being afraid and fearing death.” She finally looked him in the eyes. “Then you came along and incinerated my illusions and I was angry because you exposed the raw meat beneath.” She choked back tears. “Not only do I cringe whenever I think of death, but I have become steadily miserable at the thought of leaving you and Maura behind.”
Parker’s hands cupped her jaw. “Bailey.”
Her lips crushed his as she kissed him, emptying every emotion—the sorrow, pain, dread, and hurt from their weeks of separation into that moment. She kissed him until she could no longer breathe and was forced to sever their connection.
Gasping much needed oxygen into her lungs she spoke through a stutter. “I should have taken your generous offer. Instead I dismissed you like you were nothing more than a passing acquaintance. I hope you know that my actions came from a very black, lonely place shrouded in doubt—if I could go back to that day, I’d change my reaction to you. I’m sorry.”
“Bails, I don’t want to push you away ever again, but my offer still stands, I wouldn’t take that away from you.” His face was contorted in confusion. He was on his feet, pacing the length of the living room.
“Bailey, I can’t explain any of this. I don’t know how it happened, but I’ve fallen in love with you. I’m a man possessed by you. I promise you if you actively fight this I’ll fight it with you. We’ll do it together—you won’t be alone and your sister won’t be alone. These past few weeks I’ve thought a lot about life and what it means. I realized I could spend it searching for someone to replace you, but I wouldn’t even come close to finding anyone. I’d compare everyone to you. I would look for a woman with hair that turns to fire in the sun, freckles that change from brown to orange depending on your mood. I’d need someone stubborn, damn near immovable, a woman who likes to eat a lot and contemplate tough issues, a woman who enjoys solving problems by watching and asking questions, a woman who can make love like a Greek goddess, a woman with a throaty chuckle, pale skin, soft pink lips, a quick wit, and a sarcastic sometimes wicked sense of humor.
“It’s like you planted a seed of yourself inside of me and it formed roots. I can’t let go. I don’t want to. I need you. If I can’t have you I want no one.”
“You can have me,” she said as she choked through her tears. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I’m yours for the duration.” He loved her. Hair that turns to fire, quick wit, If I can’t have you, I want no one. In that moment she wanted to be beautiful and desirable for him because he was exactly that to her, but she had nothing to offer him.
Her voice stuck high in her throat and she emitted a whine coupled with a convulsion of tears. Even her face contorted with the efforts of so hard a cry. “My hair is falling out in clumps and I’m barely a hundred pounds.” She blew her nose into a tissue in a most unladylike fashion. “I’m hideous.”
He chuckled and pulled her onto his lap. “I like hideous in a woman.”
She tucked her head under his chin and sighed. “I’m glad because that’s how I look most of the time.”
“Hey”—he tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes—“you’re beautiful. And very desirable.” He kissed her lips. With a hand caressing her shoulder he comforted.
“It may be too late for a transplant and, given the state of my health, my body may destroy your kidney. The transplant may not take at all. Even if it does we could be looking at this very same thing in five years or so. You would have sacrificed for nothing.”
“You’re right, but in five years we could make a lot of memories.”
His hand rubbed his chest right over his heart. “If I had ten thousand kidneys to give you I would go through the surgery every time just for a chance to spend ten thousand more seconds with you. If you die I’ll mourn, but I won’t mourn knowing there was something that I could have tried but didn’t. I’ll mourn knowing we gave it our best shot. Instead of having you here with me I’ll have to wait to hold you in the hereafter, and I’ll be a better man having known you even for a while. I know you have prepared yourself for the worst by only focusing on the bleakest possible outcome, but you must also consider that you could survive and live a long healthy life. Envision yourself healthy, old, and surrounded by those grandkids. If we do this, we go in positive minded with extreme faith in the outcome. It’s the only way.”
She nodded. “That does sound much better than my way of looking at it.”
He smiled at her—his sexy smolder that she’d missed so hard it tugged at her belly. “By the way, this means I’m not leaving your side even for one second. You, me, Maura, even my family—we’ll all be together. We can play board games and barbecue some crabs. It’ll be a wild ride,” he chuckled.
Her hands locked around his neck and they embraced for several minutes. She’d missed him and didn’t want to let go and she sensed he felt the same.
“My sister is not going to eat crabs.”
“She’ll eat them.”
“Care to make a wager?”
He cocked a brow at her. “A hundred bucks?”
“A hundred bucks? That’s your wager? Boring.”
“You have a better idea?”
She scratched her neck as she contemplated. She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it.”
“You don’t have it.”
“Oh, I so have it, but I think you’re too prudish to actually make the wager.”
; “I’m prudish?”
“A little.”
“What’s the wager?”
“Loser gets a nipple ring.”
His intense eyes settled on her chest, unblinking. His throat engaged in a swallow. “Make it a set of nipple rings and I’m in.”
She felt her eyes bulge, but she held her hand out to solidify the bet. This felt nice. It felt like them. Silly and intense. And just like that her depression abated and she was right back where she was all those weeks ago—in Parker’s arms, holding on for dear life.
Chapter 12
The days fell away and Bailey was staring down the barrel of a gun. She was determined to soak up Maura, Parker, and the rest of his family that she’d come to love. She’d even started to categorize and compartmentalize the events in her head as they occurred.
It had been three days since Parker had brought the hamburgers to Bailey’s front door. Since that time he’d only left her side once to pick up some clothes and do some grocery shopping. He’d even used a list. She thought it funny how much he liked to go to the grocery store.
The first night Maura graded papers on the couch as Parker and Bailey watched a movie. The next day he’d escorted her to dialysis and then they’d engaged in a high stakes game of Mario Kart with her little friend Tate, who he’d said he instantly loved. They’d been to see her doctor and the kidney specialist. Bailey had been cleared for surgery. She and Tate decided that Bailey should have her surgery the same week as Tate’s.
Countdown: Four days.
This evening Bailey watched Parker from a barstool at the kitchen counter. Their nipple ring wager would be settled at dinner. He was very certain of himself, cocky even, that he could get Maura to eat a David family delicacy—fried barbecued soft-shell crabs.
He removed the gills and tail flap and battered several dozen crabs and stacked them in an aluminum pan. He loaded tongs, pans, and seasoning in his arms. “Get the door for me?”