Love, Cass

by St. Klaire, Stephanie

  I was a mix of joy and sorrow. This man made every moment happy and made sure I knew how loved I was. If only I could enjoy it without that inkling of guilt that wouldn’t leave me alone, not even for the night — one last night…before our lives changed forever and one ended.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, making my way to the bathroom.

  A primal growl escaped Liam as he began to strip himself of his wet clothes right there in front of the fire. “Hurry back.” His eagerness to please was on full display like an offer tempting me to follow his instruction. “Without your clothes, Cass.”

  My head fell back with a sharp sultry gasp, his promise striking my core, leaving me with a swarm of heat fluttering low in my belly. I disappeared to the bathroom, locked the door behind me, turned on the sink, stared back at the reflection in the mirror, and watched her cry.

  I’d make all of this right.

  As right as I could.

  I wouldn’t hurt him anymore than I had.

  I’d tell him tomorrow.

  First, I’d show him every way I loved him, inch by inch…

  - 5 -

  The Truth Hurts…

  Liam was livid — maybe with me, maybe with the cancer, maybe with himself for not seeing it or being able to protect me—or us—from it. Telling him didn’t go as planned, but none of this had followed any kind of script.

  Guilty conscience aside, we’d had an incredible handful of days together. I didn’t realize just how much until we were there, and it had nothing to do with the cancer and everything to do with reconnecting. There weren’t any problems in our marriage, but work had kept Liam busy, and Reagan kept me busy — we just needed to meet each other in the middle and be husband and wife for a minute. It took breaking my husband’s heart to know just how much…

  We’d arrived home from our trip, riding the high non-stop sex, laughter, and love will leave you with. Despite the continuous war I was at with my heart and mind, I did believe I was in a better place to discuss the future than I had been. I’d needed that time to reconcile my emotions and get things in perspective, even if it had been difficult to hide and toyed with my mind often.

  I suppose everyone has a limit, and I’d met mine when we’d walked in the door. We came home to an overjoyed toddler whose enthusiasm could only be met by Liam’s newfound excitement for life. Colleen, his mother, stayed as Reagan welcomed us home with multiple crafts she’d done in our absence, baked goods she’d assisted with, and a detailed play by play that outlined every minute of her time with her grandparents.

  It was late evening by the time she yawned, finally to the end of her story when I let her give out last minute goodnight hugs and put her to bed. That was always my favorite time of day. There was something about laying in her bed with her and reading a bedtime story as she drifted off to dream about her every fantasy that could make any bad day end good. Children were magical that way.

  With a final kiss to her sweet forehead, I tucked our daughter in and left her to whatever adventures danced in her imagination. I closed the door behind me and headed down the hall, back to Liam and his mother. Something in the tone of his distant, muffled voice had me on alert, and my pace quickened.

  “We even made some plans that’ll make you happy, Ma.” I could hear him more clearly. “We talked about—”

  “Liam…” I said, a little more urgently than I’d intended. “It’s late. Let your Ma go home. There will be plenty of time to talk Sunday.”

  Sunday was a sacred day for the O’Reilly clan — it was family dinner night. Colleen O’Reilly treated every Sunday like it was a holiday and anyone who missed without a reason she found legitimate endured her wrath. She wasn’t as awful as that sounded. In fact, she was the kindest woman with a heart of gold.

  But pissing her off by missing family dinner guaranteed a lengthy guilt trip full of I wish I knew what I did to upset you so much you couldn’t come and spend two hours with your family type comments. She took that shit seriously, and personally. It would take weeks — months if you weren’t a first-time offender — to get off her list, sans guilt.

  “Oh, it’s just Ma, Cass,” he said, still wearing that unknowing smile. “And nothing is set in stone. We have time to figure out the details, but it’s a step in the right—”

  “No.” My voice cracked. “It’s not. We aren’t…”

  “Cass, we talked about this. I thought—”

  “No, you talked about it, I listened.” I didn’t mean to sound harsh, and I had no right to make him out to be the asshole when this was all my doing. Had I just told him, we could have avoided the awkward confrontation.

  He stepped toward me, reaching for my hands. The concern in his expression pained me — it was only going to get worse. “Cassidy, it’s okay. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. I just thought—”

  “I want to, okay?” My voice raised as those feelings I’d carefully tucked away and battled to keep at bay forced their way to the surface like a tsunami designed to devastate everything in its path. “I would love nothing more than to have another child with you — to expand our family by whatever means we have to—”

  An excited gasp from Colleen stopped me from finishing my thought. My goal was to stop Liam from saying anything that was just going to make the truth that much more painful, and instead, I made it painful. I just dragged her into my web of lies and deception, and it was too late to undo it all.

  “Then, let’s do it. Let’s…have another baby. When you’re ready, baby. It doesn’t have to be now. We can wait — maybe when Reagan’s a little older.”

  A sob escaped me. I didn’t know how others did this. How did one live with knowing their future is limited while taking those they love down with them? How was I supposed to say the words? How was I supposed to break his heart while shattering my mother in-laws as a bonus? I couldn’t find a softer way to say it because there wasn’t one. There wasn’t a gentle conversation over tea and scones with an oh, by the way attached — there wasn’t a Hallmark card for this — and there certainly wasn’t an instruction manual or get out of jail card…errr…cancer. It was just fucking hard.

  Before I could wrap my mind around my thoughts or emotions, I blurted it out. I just said it…

  “No babies, Liam,” I cried. “There won’t be a baby, or babies. There won’t be—”

  I just cried. An uncontrollable wave of sorrow washed through me and came out as a wailing howl.

  I shook my head, like I didn’t believe my own secret. But no matter how much I wanted this to be the lie, it was my truth—and the truth fucking hurt.

  “Liam. It’s back. The cancer is back.”

  I collapsed to my knees, burying my face in my hands to protect myself from the vision of those words boring holes in the hearts of my loved ones. I couldn’t watch, I didn’t want to see it, I just couldn’t. I wasn’t able to spare my ears of the deep, guttural moan that was Liam’s pain or the pitchy no that fell from Colleen’s mouth just before she cried.

  Big, strong arms wrapped around me, steadying me while lending me a shoulder to bury my face in so I could hold him back.

  “Wh-What did you say?” Liam asked, his voice a near whisper. “How? How do you know? Maybe…you’re just tired. This — it can all be fixed.”

  With his finger hooked under my chin, Liam lifted, forcing me to face what I had done—insisting I see the devastation, confusion, and disbelief.

  “No.” I watched the color drain from his face as the words settled in. “It’s not a mistake. The cancer is…back.”

  “But…” He didn’t utter another word, he didn’t have to. His expression said everything. The shock was wearing off, realization taking its place. He was piecing things together. He was a brilliant man, I expected no less.

  He took to his feet, helping me to mine. And then, it happened—the third stage of grief, or maybe it was the fourth or fifth…I didn’t know. But I saw it. Anger.

  “You’ve known.”
r />   I nodded. “A few days.”

  “A few…” Liam turned from me, running his hands through his hair. I could see him trying to maintain control of his tone…and anger. Hands firmly placed on his hips, he turned back to me. “How long is a few, Cassidy?”

  I blinked. For some reason, that’s what I was focused on. Why was I blinking so rapidly, like there was something in my eye? I stood there, staring back at Liam, focused on my blinking. No matter how much I tried, it didn’t ease, and I couldn’t pull my attention away from it. It was like survival mode — if I concentrated on the blinking, I wouldn’t have to address Liam’s questions, therefore avoid breaking him with the truth he was asking for. I was being selfish again.

  “Cassidy,” he said, his tone even, “how long?”

  The even tone was worse than the previous. I knew it took great control to exhibit such. The calmer Liam got, the more livid he was. He had this incredible ability to maintain a level temper even when a situation didn’t deserve it.

  “I…uh, found out the day we left,” I admitted, trying to match his control. Losing my emotional shit wasn’t going to help the situation — I was taking a lesson from my husband. “That’s why I was late the other day when I met you in the lobby.”

  “Jesus, Cass!” Liam shouted.

  “Liam.” Colleen intervened, mindful not to interfere, but to remind him to be fair, I assumed. Colleen was always fair.

  “What?” He raised his voice at his mother, earning a daring glare in return. “My job is to protect my family, Ma. Not taking my sick wife on wild adventures to the middle of nowhere. We should have been here. How am I supposed to protect her?” He began to cry. “To help her and keep her safe if I don’t know…if I don’t know it’s back?”

  “I was going to tell you.” Isn’t that what everyone says as soon as they’re caught in the middle of their own shit-storm of lies? “I didn’t expect to run into you in the lobby. Hell, I didn’t even expect you to be home yet.”

  Liam tossed his arms out to his sides in frustration. “Oh. So, this is my fault? You didn’t tell me because I wasn’t supposed to be home yet?”

  “No. Liam, stop. I wasn’t expecting you until late that night. I needed to wrap my own mind around it before I could tell anyone. I thought I had the night. I was going to tell you the next day.”

  I knew his anger wasn’t for me, he was just disappointed I hadn’t told him sooner. He was angry at the cancer, maybe God, and anything that looked at him cross-eyed at the moment. He was entitled to that.

  “But instead, you decided…what? It could just wait until you got around to it? After the trip, maybe after, I don’t know, Reagan went to college? Jesus, Cass, this is a big deal, a really big fucking deal.”

  “You don’t think I know that? I’ve had days to think about it, alone, while knowing what was coming.”

  “Alone? Cass, I’m right here. I’ve been right here.” He rested his hands at my hips and bent down to my eye level. “I’ve been here, Cass. You were never alone with anything. You could have — no, you should have told me. I’m your husband, dammit. We should have stayed here, started treatment.”

  “I wanted to. I really did, but I also wanted our time away. I didn’t want to ruin it,” I defended. “You’d planned this beautiful thing — I wanted you to have that trip. I couldn’t take that away too.”

  “Take that away too? What…what do you mean? What else would…?”

  He understood. In that very moment, he knew what I was protecting him from. Liam knew exactly what he was going to lose. Me.

  “No.” He shook his head and backed away. “No. You had no right, Cass. You had no right to keep that from me, and you have no right to decide…you don’t get to decide what happens here. We’re going to fight this. We are going to go to Dr. Mendoza…”

  More pieces of the puzzle. Liam continued to back away, nearing the front door. “Mendoza. We just saw him, and he knew. You both let me go on like a fucking fool. I-I can’t do this right now.”

  “Liam, don’t go,” I cried. “Don’t leave. Not now.”

  “Boyo,” Colleen chimed in again with Irish flare, “don’t say anything you can’t take back, son.”

  “I’m not, Ma. I need some air, that’s all.” And he turned for the door, pausing just before it closed behind him.

  Colleens arms wrapped around me. “What’s the prognosis, love?”

  With a tear-stained face, I forced a grim smile and said as gently and calmly as I possibly could, “The doctors were wrong before, but I don’t think they are this time. Terminal, they said.”

  Liam’s head dropped, and he let the door close behind him. Not a word. He just left to work out whatever he needed to. I owed him that time. Hell, I owed him so much more than that—like a life together until we were old and gray.

  “He’ll be fine, dear,” Colleen said, sitting me on the couch and taking the seat next to me. She held my hands in hers. “You did the best you could. You were in an impossible situation. He knows that, he just needs time to figure it out.”

  “I haven’t even figured it out. I can’t tell if I’m mad or sad. What to do next? What to prepare for and how? This time is different.”

  “Honey, that’s what family is for. We’ll all figure it out together, okay?” She patted my head when I laid it on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Should I go find Liam?”

  “No. I imagine he’s rounded up his rowdy brothers and they’re sittin’ down at the pub with their Da, drinking it all away so he can face it with a clear mind tomorrow. You know how they do.”

  I actually smiled at that. It was comforting to know, despite the hardship about to fall on this family, they all had each other. That they took care of each other like they did. They took care of me too.

  “I do. What I don’t know is how I’m supposed to leave…” The depth of my question left me absent of words, or at least the words I intended. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  “One day at a time, honey…”

  I cried with my sweet mother in law well into the night until I fell asleep. I woke in Liam’s arms as he carried me to bed. I could smell the Irish Whiskey wafting from his breath. He gently lay me in bed and pulled my shoes, then jeans off. I could see his silhouette cast by the dim light of the moon from the window as he stumbled, trying to shed himself of his own clothes.

  When he crawled into bed behind me, wrapping his body around mine — his front to my back — I relaxed into him. Liam held me tightly against him like a promise never to let go, and although I knew the time to surrender would soon come, I drifted off to sleep and danced in a fantasy of a forever that was no longer mine.

  - 6 -

  Not gone yet…

  Treatment was much harder this time. It had only been a handful of weeks, but it was like my body remembered what this was and went right back to that torturous sick place where it spent so many months before. If muscle memory was a thing, I wondered if cancer cells worked the same way. That whole it’s like riding a bike thing — you just pick up where you left off.

  It had only been a handful of weeks since my regimen started — I’d lost track of just how many as the days and nights tended to run together. It was brutal. There was no denying that. No matter how hard I fought it, the cancer was definitely in control. Or maybe it was the treatment that was in control, who knew? I was clinging to the idea that this was normal, it was supposed to feel this way — you have to get sicker to get better. That’s a thing, right? I’d heard it before, so I’d subscribed to it.

  Delusional is what it was, but it made my circumstance feel temporary, like I’m only sick for now. I wasn’t wrong, in theory. I was only going to be sick for a short time before it went away. The difference between my convoluted thoughts and reality was getting better meant no longer living. Odd how that played out.

  Last time, I had bad days, usually right after treatment, but there were some not so bad days in there where I felt halfwa
y like myself. Despite being tired and pale, my appearance hadn’t changed much before, other than my hair. There was no saving it in the end. But it was okay then because it was the end. I didn’t have time to miss my hair because I was quickly celebrating remission. A head of hair after months of grueling treatment seemed like a small price to pay for a second chance.

  This time was like all the bad days from before combined into one — every single day. From the very first treatment, the fatigue settled in, the pain, and I was certain my hair began to thin on my way to that first treatment. It was awful. Nearly unbearable. I slept a lot, and when I wasn’t sleeping, I was too tired to do much. I was able to roam the apartment and found myself on the balcony with a blanket more times than not. Otherwise, my ventures were limited to our building and the roof top garden when weather permitted. I didn’t feel so confined up there.

  It was hard to look in the mirror. This time, I looked sick. You could see the cancer. At least, I could. My skin was pallor. My cheekbones more prominent as my face had a sunken look. My hair was gone because I finally shaved the few thin patches I’d clung to, so I lived in head wraps to hide it. I needed help with nearly everything — I couldn’t even bathe or shower on my own most days.

  Liam essentially worked from home, his office one floor down from our living quarters. He’d check in on me often, and being a techy, he installed more cameras so he could check on me remotely. I was never alone, though. Caring for Reagan on my own was too much, so she spent a lot of time with family. If she was home with me, because that was important, the family came to us.

  Reagan liked being in the garden with me. We’d spend hours up there making up stories to go with her special fairy gardens and creating adventures for every airplane that flew over. We traveled the world that way, her and I. I spent most of my time sitting while she made the magic with her scattered garden art projects. It became her favorite thing, and mine — especially when the flowers bloomed and the veggies started to grow.