Jace follows my eyes over to her and I see the smile spread across his face. Then I see him look over at me for just a fraction of a second. But in that miniscule period of time I thought I saw something on his face. Guilt? Regret? Sadness?
For the entire hour that Morgan sits with him I want to hate her. She is beautiful with her pixie cut brown hair, curvy figure and adorable giggle. She has perfect boobs, I’d guess a C cup, with exactly the right amount of cleavage—not too sweet, not too slutty. Jace texts and she whispers back in his ear. Near the end of her visit, she glances over at me and I feel like I’ve been caught staring. Because I have. Been staring. The entire time. But she simply smiles sweetly at me. It doesn’t escape me that she never even gives a look to anyone else in the room. Maybe she is afraid of old people. Or bald people. Then before she leaves she comes over to me and gives me a hug.
I raise my eyebrows at Jace while she is hugging me, hoping to get some kind of telepathic explanation for this when she says, “Keri, thank you for being someone Jace can talk to throughout this ordeal. He speaks very highly of you and I know that you all need a lot of support through your ordeals.”
What, is she afraid of the words cancer or chemo? Ordeal? Is that what this is to her? It is a life-changing, blood sucking disease that could have a disastrous outcome, but to her it’s an ordeal. I concentrate on this one tiny little blunder because in every other way, Morgan is perfect.
“Here.” She hands me a piece of paper with a phone number on it. “Anything you need, just call me.” She nods her head at Jace. “He won’t ask for help. And he doesn’t talk about his ordeal much because he knows it scares me. But if you think he is in trouble, real trouble, please call me.”
“Okay,” is all I can say, because I’ve just been hugged by the girl who is with the guy I dream about every night. The guy who has me thinking of coffee dates and movie nights and playing footsie under the table at dinner.
And although I’ve tried to hate her . . . I’ve tried for sixty whole minutes to hate her, I can’t. I’m kind of in love with her a little bit after everything that Jace told me about her and then seeing her here with him. The way she responds to him, like he is her world.
I make a vow right here, right now, not to dream about him again. Morgan is great. She seems to really love him and he lights up when she is around. So, yes, I make a vow not to think of his floppy hair and the way he has to push it out of his eyes after he looks down to send me a text. Not to think about those strong fingers, that pound his tiny keyboard, and what they could do to my body. Not to fantasize about those lips that move absentmindedly when he types the words that he texts to me.
I watch her kiss him on her way out the door and I know for sure. I’m jealous. How can I fall for a guy after only a few hours of texting? It’s not normal. Not when I have my pick of guys throwing themselves at me three nights a week. Guys who I only smile at to be nice. Guys who only mean to me the difference between buying hamburger for dinner or ramen noodles based on the tips they give me.
Jace: I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to ignore you when she was here. I think I was just so surprised to see her here that I completely forgot everything else.
He looks up at me with guilty eyes.
Me: Pffft. No need to be sorry, she’s your GF, and it was great that she showed up. Why wouldn’t you expect her?
Jace: Pffft? I’m not sure I could say that even if I could speak. And, I didn’t expect her to come because although she is great, she is having a hard time with this. I’m not sure she has even said the word ‘cancer’ yet.
Me: Oh, yes. ‘Ordeal.’
Jace: Exactly! What’s up with that? It’s not like she will get cancer if she says it.
Me: OMG, you are so right. People don’t want to say it, like they think it will offend us if they say ‘cancer.’ Like it’s taboo or something. I want to scream at them . . . CANCER, CANCER, CANCER!
Jace: You are amazing, you know that don’t you?
Me: No. I’m just a girl with . . . wait for it . . . cancer.
Jace: So, cancer girl, you never did tell me, what’s your major? I’m pretty sure it’s NOT Women’s Studies now that I know you a little better.
Me: Sociology actually, I’m in my last semester.
Jace: Are you able to keep up with your studies? I mean, through your ‘ordeal?’
We lock eyes and crack up making everyone else wonder what has been going on under their noses the entire time.
Me: Yes, so far school is fine. But I’ve had to cut my hours back at work.
Jace: What do you do?
Me: I’m a bartender.
Jace: That must be hard. Being on your feet all night.
Me: It is, but Tanner works alongside me and steps in when I need a break. He has been great. He even took on another job to help pay for this.
He purses his lips at that, like something I said made him mad.
Jace: That’s nice of him. So, what bar do you work at?
Me: It’s a club actually. A pretty cool one and I was lucky to land a job there a couple of years ago. It’s called The Triple J. Have you heard of it?
His mouth opens when he reads my text and he looks up at me in utter disbelief.
Jace: You’re kidding.
Me: So, you’ve heard of it?
Jace: You could say that. Nice place.
Me: I think I would have remembered seeing you there.
His face grows slowly into a big smile.
Jace: Oh, really? You would have remembered me? And why might that be?
I shake my head at him.
Me: I could never forget a guy with such a big . . . HEAD. Dork.
I look up to see him do his silent chuckle. I realize in this instant how much I would like to hear his laugh.
Me: You never told me what you do for a living.
Jace: No, I didn’t. But I can show you.
Show me? Does he want me to go with him somewhere? Surely that would cross some arbitrary line of whatever this is that we have. Would I go with him if he did?
He is not sending any more texts but is tapping around on his phone for a minute. Then he looks up at me at the same time as I get a new text.
Jace: Take a look.
There is an attachment so I open it. It is a picture of an abstract piece of artwork.
Me: You’re an artist?
He nods.
I’ve never much understood abstract art. It just seems like blobs and blurs to me. I guess I’ve always thought that abstract art was a label put on art made by those people not talented enough to be true artists.
I hold my finger up to indicate to him that he needs to give me a minute. Then I forward the attachment to my e-mail so that I can pull it up on my much larger laptop screen. I peek over the top of my laptop and see Jace impatiently waiting to see my reaction. I take a few minutes to look it over. I’m trying to see how all the blobs connect and relate to the other blobs when it hits me.
Wow! This is good. It is a painting of a man and a woman. The man is down on his knees holding up his hand and looking up at the woman. On the surface it looks like he could be proposing to her. But when I study it further, the deeper meaning becomes clear to me.
I look up at Jace as he holds his hands out while shrugging his shoulders. He really wants to know what I think of it. I giggle to myself while I take much longer than necessary typing out my text.
Me: I want to know what Morgan thought of it.
Jace: Why don’t you tell me what you think she thought.
I roll my eyes at him.
Me: Okay. Well, if you ask me, Morgan seems like a glass-half-full kind of girl so she probably expected to turn around and get a ring slipped on her finger.
He smiles and nods his head.
Jace: Yeah, that was kind of awkward. Is that what you think of it?
I shake my head as I look back at the painting on my laptop. No, not a proposal. This is not a happy painting at all.
&nb
sp; Me: I think it’s much darker than that. I know that we all sometimes see what we want to when it comes to art, but to me, it looks like the woman is confused or unhappy and the man is hurting. He is trying to tell her something, but he can’t find the words and he is frustrated.
I look over at Jace and it looks like the blood has drained from his face. His chin might as well be on his lap and he cocks his head to the side and studies me with drawn eyebrows.
Jace: Who are you?
Me: ???
Jace: Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, has ever understood what I meant to represent in my paintings.
Me: Oh, really? You mean I was right? Do I win a prize or something?
I smile and wrinkle my nose at him. He laughs silently at me. Then he closes his eyes and shakes his head like he is mad at himself.
Jace: Quick, give me a side effect.
Me: What?
Jace: Give me a side effect of chemo.
I look up at him like he is crazy and whirl my finger in the air around my ear.
Jace: Just do it already.
Me: I think the chemo has started to eat at your brain.
Jace: Keriiiiii . . .
I laugh at the way he can beg via text message.
Me: Okay, okay. It burns when I pee. Now before you go thinking I’ve got chlamydia, I did check with my doctor and he says it’s perfectly normal and is just the chemicals exiting my body.
Jace: That’s good. Give me another.
What the heck? Why does he want me to list side effects of chemo, didn’t he go over all of this with his doctor?
Me: My fingers go numb sometimes.
Jace: Hmm, me too. Come on, Keri, you can do better than that.
Okay, but he asked for it.
Me: One word. Diarrhea. Enough said.
Jace: Yes. Thank you! That’s the one.
He smiles like I didn’t just text the nastiest thing to a guy that I can think of.
Chapter Four
Wednesday, when I get home from volunteering at The Freeway Station, I see that Tanner has left my mail opened on the bar—he has no boundaries. One thing in particular he has attached a Post-It note to.
Keri-Use this, you deserve it.
Upon inspection, I see that it’s a certificate for a complimentary spa day at a swanky place over in Clearwater. I call them and find out that my name was placed in a drawing a while back and I’ve won a free spa day to include a mani/pedi, massage and facial—the full treatment. After making sure they aren’t going to charge me any hidden fees, I decide to go for it. Who turns down a free spa day? The massage alone sounds heavenly. Oddly enough, they are able to squeeze me in later this week due to a last-minute cancellation.
~ ~ ~
Friday I head into work feeling totally relaxed due to my unexpected spa day. As soon as I walk through the front doors Tanner grabs my arm and says, “Mike wants to see you in his office.”
Oh, no. This can’t be good. I’ve been late a few times and I take more breaks than any other bartender. But I know Tanner has been doing a great job covering for me and I’m not aware of anyone else knowing about my indiscretions. I raise my eyebrows at Tanner in question, but he gives nothing away, shrugging his shoulders and going back to stocking the beer fridge.
The door to our boss’s office is open, so I peek my head in. “Hey, Mike.” I try to sound a lot perkier than I feel, knowing that I’m probably about to get called out for numerous offenses.
“How are you holding up, Keri?” he asks. Management knows about my health issues. I couldn’t exactly cut back my hours and ask for shorter shifts without good reason.
“Pretty good, I think.” I try to give him my best please-don’t-fire-me-I-have-cancer smile. “Why, has someone complained?”
He just stares at me.
“Oh God, Mike. Someone did, didn’t they? I’m so sorry. I know that I probably take more breaks than everyone else and last weekend I forgot to put the trash out back and—”
“Keri,” he interrupts. “Nobody has complained. It’s quite the opposite. We never get anything but words of praise about your work. In fact, I’m giving you a raise.”
“A raise?” It comes out like I’m horrified rather than appreciative. “I mean, thank you, that is really great and it couldn’t have come at a better time. But . . . why?”
He laughs. “Because you are good, Keri. We like you. You and Tanner know how to work the crowd and when Mr. Jarrett suggested that I check, it had been a while since both of you got a raise.”
“Both of us?” I question.
“Yes, Tanner got a raise as well.” He stands up to dismiss me. “Now keep up the good work and let me know if you need anything.”
I walk back out to see Tanner waiting for me, bar towel over his shoulder, huge smile on his face. I snatch the towel from him and snap him with it. “You knew!” I shriek at him. “You knew and you let me sweat it out, you jerk.”
He grabs the towel from me and throws it down before grabbing me into a hug. “God, Keri, can you believe it? What timing!” He walks me over to the bar where there are two shots of tequila waiting for us in celebration.
~ ~ ~
When Jace walks into the clinic I have to keep from visibly dropping my jaw at his appearance. If I thought he had lost weight before last week’s cycle, that was nothing compared to the way he looks now. His clothes are hanging off him. His thick floppy hair has thinned out, he is pale and his cheeks look slightly sunken. Yet when his eyes meet mine, his entire face lights up and I can’t help my smile.
I thought I would dread chemotherapy and at first, I did. Before my very first cycle, I had just about gone crazy with worry. Would I get sick? Would I lose my hair? The weekend before my second cycle was even worse because then I knew what would happen about six hours after I left the clinic. It was all I could do to drag myself here that second time. But now, as incredibly absurd and deranged as it sounds, I find myself looking forward to chemo. And the sickly, pale, sunken face of the man I’m staring at is the sole reason.
Me: If I ever saw a man in desperate need of a bacon double cheeseburger, I’m looking right at him.
A smile spreads up his face when he reads my text. He closes his eyes momentarily before responding.
Jace: Thank you! God, I’m so sick of everyone telling me that I look great. They all feed me lines of crap. Do they really think I can’t see the way I look?
Me: I know, right? Even Tanner, as great as he is, dances around the fact that I have to remove the rodent from the shower drain every morning. Like I don’t know I’ve just pulled another handful of my hair off the floor.
Jace: I don’t know, I’d have to agree with Tanner on this one. You look great. I was really thinking that I’d get here and have to rub your bald head for luck or something.
I laugh at him. Then I wonder what it would be like to have his hands on my head. To have his hands anywhere on me. It almost makes me wish I had lost my hair simply so I could feel his touch.
Me: So far I’m counting my lucky stars that it only seems to be thinning out, not completely falling out. Oh, plus I had a wonderful weekend.
He raises his eyebrows at me.
Jace: Tell me.
I can’t say how many texts I had to send him to get the entire story out. With the texting character limit, it may have taken a dozen to tell him all about my unexpected spa day and then the incredible news about my raise. The entire time I was going on and on about it, he simply sat back and read my texts, each and every one of them, with a big smile on his face like he was so genuinely happy for my good fortune when he, himself, is sitting there watching his own body fall apart before his eyes.
Me: I just can’t believe the timing of it all. I feel like the luckiest girl alive.
Then I realize what I’ve said and look over at the IV in my arm.
Me: Well, you know what I mean.
I look up and see him shaking his head at me like he can’t understand me.
Me: Wh
at?
Jace: I can’t believe that you are gushing this much over a day at the spa, something that most women do on a weekly basis.
Me: Jace, you don’t understand. I’ve never won anything. Not one single thing. Ever. And then to get the raise on top of that. It was really unbelievable.
He is staring at me now and I start to fidget and feel a little uncomfortable.
Jace: You are so different from other women, Keri. I’ve never met anyone like you.
I’m not sure how to respond to his text. I think I understand what he is saying. I’ve never met anyone like him either. He is so honest, so down to earth and real. He gets me. I get him. We share this bond that others might not be able to understand.
Jace: I never expected this.
Me: Never expected what?
Abstract Love Page 3