Abstract Love

by Samantha Christy

  Jace: Quit feeling sorry for me, Keri. I’m fine. Morgan and I still go out and have fun like before. She is a great girl. It’s just that now she won’t talk about the future. I think she is scared to jinx it or something.

  Jace: So tell me, what’s in your future? Where do you see yourself in five or ten years?

  I know most girls my age would probably see themselves married with kids by then. I was never one of those girls. I never wanted to define myself by the man I was with. But when I imagine what my future might be like, right now in this very second, the only person I can see is Jace. But I can’t tell him that.

  Me: I guess I see myself working at Freeway. Chaz has pretty much promised me a full-time position when I graduate. Maybe I’ll even go back to school for an advanced degree and someday run my own place.

  Jace: What, no husband, no kids?

  Me: I’m not sure I can have kids.

  Jace: Oh, right, the chemo. Yeah, they told me there is a small chance I wouldn’t be able to father children after. That’s why I had my sperm frozen. Just in case. I couldn’t take the chance.

  I’m stunned. He wants kids that badly? Most guys in their twenties wouldn’t even be thinking about how they would feel later in life if they couldn’t have a baby. Then my mind immediately goes haywire with thoughts of what he had to do to provide his sperm. My face heats up, the hair on my arms stands up and all kinds of sensations make their way through my body. I try to shake off my impromptu mid-morning fantasy by texting him back.

  Me: Yeah, I did too. I mean, I had my eggs frozen.

  He looks up at me with surprise.

  Jace: I know how expensive that is, even more so for you with the egg retrieval.

  Me: Yeah, about eight thousand dollars in all. Plus storage. But Tanner insisted on it. It’s why he is working so hard at three jobs.

  Then I remember the medical bills and how they were lower than expected.

  Me: But don’t feel too sorry for me. Apparently someone at the billing office screwed up and only charged me for one chemo cycle instead of four, so it’s not like I can’t pay rent or anything. I keep forgetting to call the billing office about that.

  Jace: Keri, I don’t feel sorry for you. And are you crazy? Don’t call them, just count your lucky stars. Are you sure Tanner is merely your roommate?

  Me: That’s exactly what Tanner said . . . about the bill. No, he’s not just my roommate, he’s my best friend.

  I think back on the day that Tanner came to Freeway. I was in my room lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. I did that a lot. Most of the kids would watch TV or listen to music. Not me, none of that did anything for me. Music just made me mad because of all the feeling that was involved. I had no feeling left in me. I was numb. Tanner stood in the doorway and introduced himself to me. We weren’t allowed to go into the rooms of opposite sex residents. It’s kind of funny though because he was gay so that really didn’t apply to him. But at the time, he wasn’t sure he was gay, he was struggling with it. His mom had kicked him out because he was caught making out with a guy in school. Also because he got arrested for selling drugs.

  We became fast friends. Every time Tanner saw me staring at a wall or spacing out, he would try to engage me in conversation. Others had tried that as well, but after a while I guess I seemed like a lost cause. But Tanner was persistent and he wore me down. He made me listen to hours and hours of stories about his miserable childhood and in some way, it made mine not seem so bad. Not that I’m trivializing losing my parents, but really up until that moment, I had the ideal childhood. My dad taught me how to ride a bike when I was six, and he let me help him refurbish that old boat from the scrap yard. My mom took me shopping for training bras at age eleven and taught me how to drive her stick-shift when I was fifteen.

  Tanner never had any of that. He was raised by a woman who jumped from one man to another. In fact, he doesn’t even know who fathered him. He grew up around men that would hit him to shut him up so that they could have sex with his mom.

  We would hang out in the back yard of The Freeway Station at night, looking up at the stars. He would put thoughts in my head about how life could be if we got out of there and took control of our own destiny. Eventually, when they let me out of the house unsupervised, he would take me down by the train yard. We would sit underneath the railroad overpass and wait for trains to come by. The feeling that I got when that happened was indescribable. It was so loud, with the echoing of the engine and the rail cars as each of them thumped over our heads. The trees would sway and the wind from the train would kick up dirt and swirl it around us. It was exhilarating, like being caught up in a tornado for a few minutes. It was the first time I felt anything after my parents died. From that day on, every chance we got we would go to that train yard. And that was the beginning of my healing.

  My phone vibrates, bringing me back to the here and now.

  Jace: So, Slugger . . . you want to see another painting?

  Me: Yes!

  I open it up on my laptop and it takes me a minute to realize what he has painted. I roll my eyes and shake my head at it and type out a text.

  Me: If you ever tell anyone what this is, I will kill you.

  Jace: Oh, so you get it? Good, I was hoping you would. It was definitely one of the highlights of chemo for me.

  I look back at the picture of his abstract painting on my laptop screen. To the unsuspecting eye, it appears to be a woman with arms crossed over her chest, almost like pledging allegiance on both sides, or she could be meditating or maybe even praying. Her eyes are closed and she has wild colors in her hair. But I know better and I hope he doesn’t sell this one because I would hate to walk into a restaurant or office building and see a picture of me, feeling myself up, plastered on some random wall. And even though I know he was wearing it that day, he chose to paint Kimberly’s hideous hat on my head just for good measure.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tanner studies Jace’s latest painting on my laptop. “I don’t get it. How is this a painting of you?”

  I try to explain it to him and I’m confused that even after I point everything out to him, he still can’t see it. But that doesn’t keep him from once again playing the over-protective friend that he is.

  “He made a painting of you grabbing your boobs, Keri. And he said it was his best moment at chemo. That settles it. I’m going with you next time.”

  I roll my eyes at him, but I give in all the same. I knew he would come sooner or later and I’m actually glad that someone will finally be there to show some support. I’m sure the others feel sorry for me as I’m the only person that hasn’t had anyone come with me.

  I wonder what it will be like when Tanner meets him. Will they get along? Not that it really matters. Because in a few weeks this will all be over and I might never see him again. After all, what excuse would I have to see him? Plus, he has Morgan. But then I think back to what Jules said about giving it time. Does she really think that he will eventually break up with her? I try to imagine what that would be like, Jace being available.

  I spend the rest of the week hoping that when Tanner meets him, he will see all the wonderful qualities in him that I do.

  ~ ~ ~

  As Tanner follows me into the chemo center this morning, we are still talking about the large amount of money in tips that we raked in this weekend. On Saturday, one of the waitresses put a wad of bills into our tips jar telling us it was from one of the cute guys in her section that asked her to do it. He must have really liked our drinks. Either that or he really liked one of us. I roll my eyes.

  I’m one of the first patients to show up this morning. I planned it this way so Tanner will be sitting down and completely across the room from Jace when he shows up. I agreed to have him come and check him out, not give him the third degree. It’s chemo for Christ’s sake.

  As the other patients trickle in, I see the surprised looks on their faces to see that I’ve brought someone with me. I also see a coupl
e of raised brows. I’m not sure if it’s because Tanner is so handsome or if maybe they think I’m trying to make Jace jealous. Like that could happen. I think I see Melanie drool a bit when she walks in. It doesn’t take long before I get a text from her.

  Melanie: Keri, what is it with you and hot men?

  Me: Roommate, Mel.

  Melanie: Can I come live with you? Forget what I said about you growing old with a bunch of cats, you go girl!

  I laugh at her and proceed to introduce Tanner to her and Grace.

  Stacy tells us that Steven died in the hospital a few days ago and that if we want to sign a sympathy card or make a small donation in his honor, we can do that today. We all look around at each other. People are sad, most are silently crying. I wonder if anyone else feels like I do, guilty about feeling just a tiny bit relieved that, because it was someone else who died, statistically our chances of living just got a little better. Jace’s chances just got better. I shake my head at myself for thinking such things. I look up at the TV and see that someone has turned on The Travel Channel. I don’t think anyone else wants to pick a program. I don’t blame them.

  “What time is Jace supposed to show up?” Tanner asks, checking his watch.

  I look at the clock on the wall. It’s not quite nine o’clock, and he sometimes comes in a little late, but never this late. “He usually gets here about a quarter to nine. I’m sure he will be here any minute.” My foot taps the floor as I anxiously await the man who infiltrated my dreams to walk through the door.

  Tanner is making small talk with Grace. What a twenty-four-year-old gay man has in common with a seventy-year-old former kindergarten teacher is beyond me. But he has her giggling like a schoolgirl and their banter is keeping my mind occupied. It is not, however, keeping my eyes from looking at the slow movement of the minute-hand on the clock that is mounted on the wall over the nurse’s station. The clock that now says ten after nine. He’s late.

  I look at my phone as if a text will magically appear telling me why he is late. I wonder if I should ask where he is. But, there seems to be an unwritten rule that we only text within the walls of this building. I would be breaking the rule if I texted him right now. Would he even want me to? Maybe he wants to leave what happens here at the door. What happens in Vegas and all that. I’m a chemo distraction, a way to help him through a bad situation.

  Then I scroll through my texts and read what he wrote a few weeks ago. When he told me that he thinks about me all the time. Surely that means outside of the clinic. I didn’t just imagine his feelings, he pretty much admitted them to me, right? Or maybe I’m reading too much into his texts.

  I look over at the nurse’s station and see Stacy watching me. She gives me a weak smile and looks up at the clock. She obviously hasn’t heard from him either. I try to engage in the conversation between Tanner and Grace that also now involves Melanie. Anything to keep my eyes off the clock.

  An hour into our session I realize that nobody is talking anymore. Everyone is watching me. Dozens of eyes are burning into me right now. Eyes that keep glancing between Jace’s empty chair and Steven’s. They are wondering what I’m thinking. Wondering what I’m going to do if Jace doesn’t walk through those large double doors soon. I’m not sure I’ve ever wished for something so hard in my life. Maybe not even when I was waiting to see if my parents were alive. Oh, God. I close my eyes and realize what I’ve been fighting for weeks now. Even though it’s not possible. Even though I’ve known him such a short time. Even though he can never return my feelings. I love him.

  My own gaze travels from the doors back to the empty spot he should be occupying. There is his chair, across from mine, sitting painfully vacant. Everyone else is in their place, waiting patiently, worried looks painted on their faces. No one is speaking to me, but I know what they are thinking. Poor Keri, what will she do now? They wonder if I will cry. Maybe they think I will have a breakdown. I’m sure some think I will run through those doors in search of him. Tanner is holding my hand to comfort me, his large fingers entwined with mine, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes on the back of my hand.

  People are starting to shift around anxiously in their seats and I hear whispered voices in the conspicuously quiet room. You could hear a pin drop in here. Every so often someone will cough or a cell phone will vibrate. The air is thick with unasked questions. Why wouldn’t he show up? He seemed so good last week, healthier. He had gained weight and wasn’t quite so pale. But a lot can happen in a week. I look over to Steven’s deserted chair and close my eyes in painful contemplation.

  The rich bellow of a horn from a nearby yacht pulls me from my thoughts. My eyes stare through the massive picture window at the back of the room. The window that was the very reason I chose this location. The window that overlooks dock after dock lined with boats of all sizes in the marina that sits adjacent to this building. Boats that remind me of my dad and the stories he would make up about the three of us sailing around the world. Just him, my mom and me and the adventures we would have in every port. As I stare out the window I feel close to him, but at the same time I miss him so terribly, wishing he could be with me on days such as this. I wonder what he would do to comfort me. In the sixteen years he was with me, I can’t remember anything more than a simple scrape of the knee that he or my mom had to tend do. What are parents supposed to do in times like these? When my heart is breaking. When my lungs struggle to breathe.

  Then I hear the doors open and I abruptly spin around to see all heads turning with hopeful eyes watching to see if Jace will walk through. Then I hear the collective sighs when they see it is not him.

  He’s late. Too late. I close my eyes and allow my head to fall forward in defeat. I feel a strong but gentle hand on my shoulder. I look up to see the sympathetic eyes of my best friend who is trying to comfort me because he knows what everyone else here does.

  Jace isn’t coming.

  Drip . . . drip . . . drip . . .

  My eyes focus on my IV bag as I watch the rhythmic dripping of the poison as it mixes with the fluids coming into my body. I’m counting the drips, trying to keep my mind occupied so that I don’t keep going over the words that were spoken to me on my first day here.

  “There are only two reasons people don’t show up for chemotherapy . . .”

  Chapter Twelve

  I sent Tanner off to work. He can’t miss more of the day or they will fire him. But I don’t think I should drive home, so I sit here, on a bench outside the clinic. I’m watching the motorboats, sailboats and yachts come and go from the harbor. I sit here and daydream about sailing far away with my dad, away from things like cancer and chemotherapy. Away from the heartache I feel right now.

  It’s just after noon and I can’t take it anymore. I’ve tried to respect the boundaries of our relationship. But he has to know that I’m worried about him, that everyone at the clinic is worried about him. So I look down at the text I composed, but didn’t send, over two hours ago. My finger lingers over the button that will send it to him. The button that will violate our unspoken rule to keep things casual and within the walls of the clinic. The button that may lead to my heartbreak. I press send.

  Me: Jace, where are you? Are you okay? You are supposed to call if you miss a cycle, it’s rule number one. Please let me know if you are still alive. I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to text you, but I don’t think I can go home until I know that you are okay.

  I check my watch. It’s been thirty minutes since I sent the text. My head slumps forward. I hear the excited cries of children running from their parent’s car to find their boat. I raise my head to see their father carry a large cooler and their mother, a beach bag stuffed with towels and toys. I watch them walk down the ramp to the dock, climb aboard their private boat, get it ready and sail off happily away from the hustle and bustle of the street that parallels the marina. Oh, what I would give to be one of those children right now.

  I look at my phone again. I’ve already broken the
rule, I’ve violated the agreement, so what will another text matter?

  Me: So help me, if you don’t respond to this text, I’m going to kill you the next time I see you if you aren’t dead already.

  My stomach rumbles and I know I only have a few hours to get something to eat before I can’t eat for another day. I reluctantly get up and walk to my car feeling defeated.

  Hours later, sitting on my couch, waiting for the chemo to hit me hard, I get tired of waiting for his response and make a snap decision to call him. I dial his number quickly and I wonder if he can even answer the phone without being able to speak. Then it hits me. Voicemail. As the phone rings I realize that, more than likely, I am about to hear his voice. For the first time. I’m about to hear the voice of the man who whispers in my dreams. The man I love but that I can’t have. It’s on the fourth ring now and I brace myself. My heart is pounding so hard I think it might escape my chest and my breathing is shallow. My hands are shaking so badly that I hope I don’t drop the phone. The ringing stops and I hear it. Oh, God.

  Hey, you’ve reached Jace. Obviously, I can’t get to the phone right now. I’m probably at the loft painting. Maybe Jules has got me running some ridiculous errands for her hobby of the week. Or I could be working at the foundation. Who knows? But if you can leave me a message, I’ll get back with you. Maybe not today, but probably sometime this week, or at least as soon as I get around to —