Pulling a key from his back pocket, I search my purse and find one that matches. Maybe he is telling the truth. Why don't I remember him? I didn't hit my head that hard, did I?
"I'll take you back there. If you still don't remember anything, we'll go see a doctor."
Looking between the two of them, I can't decide if I want to trust them or not. They look like nice people. They're both obviously concerned about me. I don't recognize anyone else around, and I have no idea where I am. I don't have a choice but to trust them and hope they're not lying to me.
"Okay," I finally say, reaching out so he can help me up.
Gently, he leads me by the elbow back to the hotel. Standing in front of the door, he produces his key once again, unlocking it, but doesn't go inside. There's a sign on the wall. It's the honeymoon suite. The woman said we just got married.
"You try," he says.
Waving my key in front of the black box on the door like I saw him do moments earlier, the light turns green. It works. My key works. They must be telling the truth. If not, this is one hell of an elaborate scheme.
Turning the handle, I open the door. Stepping through, they follow me silently. As I make my way through the room, nothing looks familiar. There are two bags in the corner, open with clothing falling out. There's a beautiful black sweater hanging over the back of a chair and a pair of women's underwear that have been kicked underneath.
Are those mine?
Why wouldn't I pick up after myself better?
"I think I'm going to lie down," I announce, stepping into the bedroom. Turning to close the doors behind me, I find both of them staring at me with the same look of concern they had earlier. There's nothing I can do about it, so I close the doors and lock them behind me.
As I pull the sheets up to my chin, I hear them talking. Their voices are loud enough to hear but quiet enough that I can't make out what they are saying. I'm sure they're talking about me. According to them, they’re my husband and my best friend, but how can I believe them?
Stretching my arms over my head, I open my eyes to sunlight blinding me. My head is pounding and my mouth is parched. Flipping the covers back, I go in search of Jackson. He's not next to me, and it looks as if he didn't come to bed at all last night. That's not like him. Normally, he'll hold me until I fall asleep, the sound of his heart beating lulling me into slumber.
Popping an aspirin and drinking a glass of water in the bathroom first, I pray my day gets better from here. Reaching for the handle, I find the doors are locked. Did I lock him out? Did we have a fight? I don't remember fighting with him. The last thing I remember is getting another drink at Bally's, losing fifty bucks, crossing over the bridge and then watching the water show in front of the Bellagio. We were having fun, all three of us.
As the doors open, I find Amber curled up on the loveseat and Jackson asleep in the chair. What the hell happened? Did we all drink too much? Did they pass out? They both look uncomfortable.
Walking over, I shake Jackson until he grumbles and opens his eyes.
"Hey. Good morning," I whisper softly, kissing him on the lips. If we did fight last night, I want him to know I'm sorry right away.
"Jessa," he replies, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I locked you out, but I'm really sorry. I don't want to fight with you. We haven't been married long enough for that yet," I joke, trying to make light of whatever happened.
"Jessa?" Amber asks, sitting up quickly and rubbing her eyes.
"What's up?"
Looking from Jackson to me and back again, Amber looks scared. Something is going on. There's something they're not telling me. Shaking his head at Amber, Jackson pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around me.
"Nothing. Who wants breakfast?"
"Um, no. Something is going on. One of you needs to tell me what it is. Food can wait."
Amber opens her mouth to say something but immediately closes it when she looks to Jackson for permission. Staring at each other, I look at them and wait for someone to answer me.
"I'll tell you after we take Amber to the airport. We need to grab food and get moving before she misses her plane," Jackson says before Amber can reply.
"That's not good enough," I say, standing and turning to face him. "It's obviously something big. I want to know now."
My anger rises in my chest. I hate secrets. I hate what they do to people, what they're doing to me right now, especially. Worry courses through my veins. Every scenario possible is running through my brain. Did I lock him out because he cheated on me with Amber? That thought is on replay.
"Have a seat," Jackson says, his voice taking a tone I've only heard a few times before. It's a mix of scared and concerned.
As soon as I'm seated next to Amber, she reaches for my hand, holding it tight and giving it a squeeze. Oh, my god. This is worse than I imagined. They did hook up. My best friend and my husband. I'm going to have to file for divorce. Or an annulment if possible. How did this happen?
"Last night," he starts, "you collapsed. You hit your head on the pavement pretty hard. You only blacked out for a few seconds, but when you came to, you didn't know who we were." He motions between him and Amber before he continues. "We convinced you to come back here and you locked yourself in the bedroom. We let you sleep for an hour, and then I asked maintenance to come and let me in the room so I could check on you. You seemed fine. I locked the doors again so you wouldn't freak out when you woke up. We had no idea you would wake up and remember us. We assumed your mind was lost.
"All night long we talked about what we were going to try and do. We wanted to get you to a doctor. We thought maybe it had to do with the tumor. Which doctor would be best? How were we going to convince you to go with us? What if your memory never came back?"
His voice fades, and that's when I notice the tears streaming down his face. I want to comfort him, but I know that I can't. There's nothing I can do to take back what happened last night. There's nothing that will calm the fear that's growing inside him. The truth is, one day, my memory will go, and there's nothing they'll be able to do to bring me back.
Chapter 22
In my hand is a pink envelope with the number twenty-one on it. I've opened the flap, pulled out the paper and returned it twice. Jackson is waiting for me to read it so we can get on the road. We have one last stop, the Grand Canyon, before we head home.
Home. A place I use to long for when I was away on business. It was my favorite place in the world because it had all my favorite people there. My parents, Alex, Amber, and even Jackson. Now, it's just the two of us, headed for a place that I no longer want to visit.
Once we're there, I'll have less than two weeks to spend time with the people I love. I'll have to explain to Alex where I'm headed next and why I might not be coming back. My parents will be the ones holding him tight after I'm gone. I can't imagine what this will do to them. Who will hold them? Who will hold Jackson and Amber?
I hate this. Being sick. Having to say goodbye. Not knowing if tomorrow will come when I close my eyes and fall asleep. All of it.
So here I sit, feeling sorry for myself and for my family, holding Amber's letter. She gave it to me when I dropped her off at the airport. It's been a while since I've read on of her letter. In fact, I haven't even thought about them in a while. When I saw the pink envelope appear, I knew this one was going to be a doozie.
Dear Jessa,
This letter, of all the letters, is the hardest for me to write. It's my goodbye letter to you. I'm hoping I never feel like I need to give it to you.
Today's Tuesday. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, the kids are watching a movie in the living room, and I'm staring at this piece of paper trying to figure out how to explain to you how much you mean to me. To everyone, you've ever met.
You see, we all love you, more than you can imagine. You're an amazing friend, daughter, mother, and wife. Yes, Jackson told me his secret plans. I'm sorry I lied to you. N
o, actually, I'm not. I think for once, you'll like being surprised. And, I get to be there, so if you are mad, suck it up.
Anyway, the fact that you're reading this means that I'm scared. Not as scared as you, I'm sure, but scared enough to know that I might not get another chance to say what I need to say. So, here goes...
You're beautiful, smart, and caring.
You treat others how you want to be treated, with kindness.
You've never realized how beautiful you are on the outside, which is why you're so beautiful on the inside.
When you love, you love hard and put everything you have into it.
You've survived a broken heart, proving to yourself that you're tough, mentally and physically.
Surviving he-who-shall-remain-nameless also made you a more genuine person. You don't sugarcoat things, but you also know when to keep your mouth shut. Knowing when doesn't mean you always do it, though.
Most importantly, you're stronger than you know, Jessa. You made the hardest decision of your life when you gave Alex up. You have the heart of a lion. Don't forget that because you're going to need to find the fight inside yourself to beat the shit out of this. I know you can do it. I believe in you.
Fight hard, Jessa. Not for me. Not for Jackson. Not for your family. Do it for you. Fight to live.
Love always,
Amber
Pinpointing when the tears started to fall would be pointless. I was probably crying before I started reading it. Amber has a way–that I love and hate–of bringing out my emotions. She makes me see things I don't want to see and feel things I don't want to feel.
Scared? Um, hell yeah, I'm scared. Do I want to think about being scared? It's not like I have an option. I think about it constantly. Every time I open my eyes and thank the Lord that I'm still here, I think about the alternative. What if I don't wake up tomorrow? What if this is the last time I'll talk to my mom on the phone? What if I don't make it home to say goodbye?
Scared doesn't even begin to cover how I feel on a daily basis.
Am I going to fight? Isn't that what I've been doing since I found out? No, no I haven't. Somewhere along the way, I gave up. I accepted that I was going to die and made sure I was going to go out on my own terms. That doesn't make me weak, it makes me a pessimist.
Not anymore, though. That's why I'm going to California for a clinical trial. That's fighting. It took me a while to find my strength, but now that I have, I'm going to put all I have into kicking the crap out of this tumor. If it's going to take me down, it's going to have to give me all it's got.
"Jessa? Can I come in?" Jackson asks from the other side of the bathroom door.
"Sure," I reply, wiping at my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt.
"I don't want to rush you, but we really need to get on the road."
"It's fine. I'm ready. Can we stop for food on the way? I'm starving."
Rolling our suitcases behind us, Jackson and I wait in line for the valet to bring the car around. People are coming and going from the casino. Those walking in look excited compared to those walking out. You can tell who's won and who's lost. There's a glow around some people that others don't have. That must be what people saw when they were looking at me next to Jackson the last few days. I have yet to win. In fact, I'm down about two hundred dollars.
"I want my money back," I announce to Jackson as we shuffle forward.
"What?"
"I want my money back. I've lost a shit ton, and I want it back."
"Okay? I don't think the casino is going to give you a refund."
"Ha, ha. I know that. I'm going to win it back. Give me ten minutes," I say, moving my suitcase toward his and stepping out of the line. "I'll be right back."
"Ten minutes. Please don't make me come looking for you."
Grinning at him, I back away slowly and then dart through the open handicap door before he changes his mind. Standing in front of the casino floor, I survey the slot machines. Which one is it going to be? Which one will pay me big?
The bank of slots we played when we first arrived catches my eye. There's an older lady with white hair sitting in the front of my machine and a young brunette next to her at Jackson's machine. Walking in that direction, I watch as the lady in front of my machine gets up and walks away.
Sliding in the seat, I smile at the woman next to me. She smiles back before focusing her attention back on her game. I should do the same. In my heart, I know it's a game of chance. You either get lucky and win or you lose big. Today, having my memory back and getting ready to check the last thing off my bucket list with my new husband, I feel lucky.
Ten dollars gone. Twenty. Damn it! All I have left is a five-dollar bill and if I don't win in the next sixty seconds, Jackson's going to be dragging me out of here.
Sliding the bill in the slot, I wait for it to register and then play the max bet of four dollars. Bonus. Bonus. Bonus.
Holy shit!
I've finally hit a bonus game.
Eighteen free spins.
Now, thirty-six free spins.
Another thirty-six free spins.
"Jessa," I hear Jackson call from behind me.
"Wait. I have seventy-two fee spins, and then we can go–even if I don't win anything. I promise," I say quickly as the machine starts to spin.
"You're going to win," he says. "How can you not? You're not spending anything, and every spin, you have a chance of winning something."
"Great. Let's see how much, then."
"This is going to take a while. I'm going to grab two coffees. Don't go anywhere and don't put any more money in that machine. In fact, don't touch the machine. I'll be back."
Watching spin after spin, my money grows. I'm bouncing in my seat when Jackson returns. The game was over a few minutes ago. I printed my ticket and I'm holding it out for him to take. Handing me a coffee, he takes the ticket, looks between me and the ticket, and then nods his head.
"Nice take. What are you gonna spend it on?"
"I was thinking I'd pay back my amazing husband for all the things he's been paying for behind my back."
"What are you talking about? I stopped doing that a while ago," he retorts, shocked.
"No, you didn't, but I knew you wouldn't."
Cashing out my big win, Jackson and I finally hit the road. As excited as I am to check the last thing off my list, I'm sad, too. This was an amazing trip. Once it's over, we're both back to the real world. I'm not ready for that yet. I'm not ready for the magic to be over.
#10 Visit the Grand Canyon
"It's so big!" I holler, waiting for my voice to echo like I've seen in the movies. It doesn't. Or if it does, I don't hear it.
"I know. You've told me that before," Jackson teases, leaning close so that the family next to us doesn't hear him.
"Jackson," I say, pushing against him when he tries to kiss me on the neck. "You know that's not what I was talking about, but yes, it is."
Wrapping his arm around me, Jackson pulls me close as we stare out at the vast canyon. Neither of us speaks as we take in the beauty and size of what's in front of us. I've never seen anything like it before. It's massive and scary, yet I feel safe standing so close with Jackson next to me.
"Why was this on your list?"
"Why not?"
"Well, I can understand the rest of it. Who wouldn't want to see Paris or visit the beach, but this is a rock, lots of them. I know people come here to see it. A lot of people want to hike it or climb parts of it. But you, I don't see you doing any of that."
"I don't know. When I made the list, it was one of the first things that popped in my head. I wanted to see it. Maybe it's symbolic of something. Maybe I just like rocks. Who knows?"
Laughing, Jackson squeezes me against him. "How long did you want to stare at your rocks?"
"Maybe a few more minutes. I've heard the sunset is beautiful here. It won't be long before it starts to sink below the horizon."
Waiting for it to happen, I say a little pr
ayer as the sun sets, covering us in the darkness of night. I've been praying a lot lately, to a God I hope is listening.
As Jackson holds me that night, I can't help but contemplate my next move. Once we're home, I need to talk to my parents. They've been asking a lot of questions about the clinical trial since I told them about it. I don't have the answers they're looking for. I don't have any answers.
The doctor called the other day to let me know he sent some paperwork to the house for me to fill out. Hopefully, that means there will be more information in there. If not, I'm going to have to request some. As much as I'm ready for this, I want to know more about what I'm walking into. It's not going to change my decision; I'll still go and give it a shot.
Driving into the morning sun, I can feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. It's going to take us all day today and part of tomorrow to get home. Jackson mentioned driving straight through, but I know I won't be able to stay awake for that. I'm tired already and I've only been up for an hour.
Making it as far as we can, Jackson and I pull off for the night just after we hit the Oklahoma line. It's been ten hours in the car. We've stopped four times, twice just so I could go to the bathroom. I've done the best I could to stay awake and keep Jackson company, but it's been a challenge. Once I hit the mattress, I'm going to be out like a light.
Tomorrow, we have to drive another eight hours to get home. Not as far as today, but it's still a long drive. It'll still be a challenge to stay awake, especially considering the scenery. There's been nothing but sand and dirt mixed in with a few cacti the last six hours. Not exactly beautiful like the Bahamas or vibrant like Paris. In fact, I think I prefer the bright white snow covering the trees in Michigan over the desert.
"What's first on the agenda when we get home?" Jackson asks as we crawl under the sheets.
"I don't know. Probably a nap for me. There should be an envelope from the doctor waiting with paperwork I need to go through."
"I have to add you to my insurance plan before I forget."
"I didn't even think of that. Are you sure? Your premiums will go up once they find out I'm dying."
Chasing Fate Page 20