The Words We Leave Unspoken

by L. D. Cedergreen

  “Five years,” I choke out, interrupting him. My mind fast-forwards five years as I envision Olivia as a teenager, feisty and independent as she tries to find herself in this cruel world. And Max, he would be the same age that Olivia is now. Tears sting my eyes. It’s not enough time. It’s not enough. I wipe my tears away with my fingers and clear my throat as Dr. Sheldan continues.

  “But Gwen, I’ve had hundreds of patients make it past the ten-year mark, some even longer.”

  “Will I have to have chemotherapy again?” I ask him.

  “Well sometimes we use chemotherapy to slow down tumor growth or shrink the size of the tumors, but in your case I don’t feel that the benefits of chemotherapy would outweigh the risks, so I’m going to suggest a cancer medication that we’ll inject intravenously coupled with a handful of oral medications to promote healthy cells, healthy kidneys, and such. You’ll also be on a very strict diet to optimize the treatment. You’ll have monthly scans to make sure that the treatment is effective. It’s not uncommon to change your therapy if we’re not getting positive results. Sometimes the tumors can develop a resistance to the drugs, in which case we would need to try something else. But other than that, you can live a normal daily life, the emphasis on live, Gwen. Do you have any questions?”

  “I don’t know. My head is kind of spinning right now,” I say as I try to absorb everything he has just told me.

  I hear Charley ask, “So there’s nothing else to do? What about surgery? Does she need to have the tumors removed?”

  “That is an option that we can certainly explore but generally at this stage the cancer cells are already present and growing, so the need to remove the tumors isn’t imperative.”

  “So that’s it? We treat the cancer, basically to keep it from getting worse but we can’t get rid of it?” I hear Charley ask.

  “Yes. Unfortunately we can’t get rid of it. I’m sorry.”

  I am a messy pile of tears and snot as I listen to them speak back and forth as if I’m not sitting right here in this room. My heart pounds in my head and I feel as if I’m in a tunnel, their voices becoming muffled and distant. After a few moments of silence, Charley hands me a tissue and the simple touch of her hand, grounds me, pulls me back into the room. I blow my nose loudly as Dr. Sheldan and Charley both watch me in utter silence. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders and resolve to be strong.

  Finding my voice I ask, “So when do we start?”

  “We can set up an appointment for your first treatment this week. The sooner, the better.”

  “Okay,” I say, nodding my head up and down, reassuring myself as much as everyone else.

  “Okay,” Charley repeats, placing her hand on top of mine where it rests in my lap.

  “Okay,” Dr. Sheldan says, nodding his head as well.

  I feel as if the three of us are all in on one giant secret, a pact, each with a common goal. And it’s hard not to feel the weight of the absence of the one person who should be in this room, who should be part of the pact. What have I done? Keeping this from him.

  Once Charley and I shake hands with Dr. Sheldan and I have set up my appointment for my first cancer treatment, we leave the medical center. As I step out of the building into the thick drizzle of rain sheeting down at a slant, I stop and turn back to look at the heavy glass doors as they shift closed. A distorted image of myself stares back in the reflection of the glass. My once perfect blonde bob is wet and matted against my face, my black mascara smeared under my eyes. I look a mess. I am a mess, I think. The glass doors slide open as an elderly couple steps outside, their hands held up to shield their aged faces from the rain, and the mirrored image of myself is gone. I turn to Charley, who is standing in the mist watching me with pity in her eyes, but I can see the underlying fear in the depth of her gaze. She says nothing which, for someone who hides behind her quick wit and sarcasm, says too much. Charley reaches for my hand so I take a step toward her and in a flash we are darting across the street toward the parking garage, holding hands in the rain.

  And that’s it. I am officially dying of cancer. I am going to die. Maybe not today or tomorrow or next week but someday soon. Someday that will come sooner than it should, sooner than I planned. I know, though, as sure as the Seattle rain, I will fight for every one-more-day.

  I try to hold on to this brief moment of strength, but as my thoughts shift to John, the reality sinks in, the fear takes hold and my strength crumbles to the ground where it is washed away in a steady stream of rain. I am left vacant, knowing what lies ahead; I have to tell John.

  Chapter 16

  Charley

  I hear a knock, startling me as I wipe the tears from my eyes and go to the door. I’ve been sitting in a pool of pity, thinking only of Gwen for hours. The tears haven’t stopped falling since she dropped me off. I am suddenly aware of my disheveled appearance, but really after the day I’ve had, I don’t care as much as I should.

  I open the door to find Grey standing on the top step, leaning in under the eaves to keep dry, holding up a white paper bag from Sam’s Deli. He’s still dressed in his office attire, although his suit jacket and tie are missing. My breath catches in my throat as I look into his warm eyes. His looks never cease to amaze me, but there is something else, like a small nudge to the heart that I can’t seem to put my finger on.

  “Grey, what are you doing here?” I ask, completely taken by surprise.

  “I wanted to check on you. And I brought you some soup. Your favorite, lemon chicken from Sam’s.” He hands me the bag and I look at him in awe.

  “How’d you know that was my favorite?” I ask him.

  Grey taps his temple with his index finger and says, “I know a few things.” And then he sinks his hands into the pockets of his dress slacks and shrugs. “And I pay attention.”

  And another unidentifiable nudge. This simple gesture sends a ripple of warmth through me.

  I run my hand through my wild hair, nervously, and step aside, a subtle invitation for him to come inside.

  He steps through the doorway and looks around. He has never been inside my place; we always go to his condo.

  “This is cute,” he says as I close the door. It’s a far cry from his expensive high-rise condo downtown, but I have to agree, it is cute.

  “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting you, I’m kind of a mess,” I say, placing my hand on my forehead, feeling a bit flushed suddenly. I feel so vulnerable in the moment. Something I don’t like to feel. I like to be in control and Grey has caught me completely off guard.

  “Are you still feeling sick?” he asks with concern etched in his eyes.

  I had almost forgotten that I was sick, it seems like days ago. My stomach rumbles loudly, filling the silence and Grey’s concerned expression morphs into a full grin.

  I cringe. “Apparently I’m feeling better, and starving for that matter,” I say. Holding the open bag up to my face, I inhale and add, “This soup smells so good, mind if I eat?”

  “Not at all. Please eat.”

  “Do you want some?” I ask as I step into the kitchen to grab a spoon from the utensil drawer.

  “Nah. I just came from an early business dinner.” Grey sits down on the sofa, his hands clasped in his lap. He seems nervous as he rubs the inside of his left palm with the thumb of his right hand. I don’t blame him. This feels a little awkward. This isn’t what we do.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I ask while I remove the container of soup from the bag and lift off the lid. The soup really does smell heavenly and I realize that I haven’t eaten anything since the dry pancake I nibbled on at Gwen’s early this morning.

  “I’m good,” he replies.

  I take my soup and sit down on the sofa next to him, curling my legs up underneath me. We sit in silence, as I shovel spoonfuls of warm soup into my mouth. I look up when I feel Grey’s eyes on me. I stop eating, feeling completely unnerved and flash him a subtle smile.

  “Thank you. For t
he soup. It’s so good,” I say, averting my eyes from his intense gaze.

  Grey reaches over and places his hand on my leg. “Is everything okay, Charley?” he asks.

  I set my half-empty soup container on the coffee table as I feel the tears bubble to the surface. I try to fight them as I start to say, “Everything’s fine,” but my words get caught in my throat. The tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks before I can stop them and I feel so very vulnerable and scared, but at the same time I don’t care. I can’t hold it in another moment or I might combust. These are emotions that I save only for Gwen. Gwen is the only one who I confide in, who comforts me, but I can’t talk to her about this. I have to be strong for her. I can’t let her see me fall apart.

  I feel strong arms around me as Grey pulls me into his lap and holds me tight. The fear and uncertainty unleashes, practically bursts out of me and I sob onto his shoulder, shaking in despair. And Grey just holds me, rubbing his hand up and down my back in a soothing motion. I feel so small and fragile in his arms, wrapped against his large, strong frame. I can’t remember the last time someone held me like this. Or rather that I allowed someone to hold me like this.

  When the sobs begin to ebb and I can breathe once again, I pull back and wipe my face with the bottom of my T-shirt.

  I look at Grey through bleary eyes and suddenly feel so embarrassed.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” I say, wiping my fingers under my eyes, removing the last trace of my tears.

  “Don’t apologize, Charley,” he whispers, showing all his cards in his eyes. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I can’t,” I say as I start to shift off his lap, removing myself from his embrace. Fear seizes my heart, holding my words, my emotions prisoner.

  “Charley, please, don’t push me away. Talk to me,” Grey pleads as he holds me tighter, but I can’t. I just can’t. I try to pull away again, but he won’t let me go. I suddenly can’t breathe. I need some space; he’s too close. I push at his chest and try to stand. He releases me, although reluctantly.

  I step away until I am in the middle of the room, keeping my back to him as my heartbeat slows and I feel a sense of calm wash over me.

  “Why can’t you talk to me, Charley? We can be more than this. I want to be more than this. If you’ll just let me. Just let me in.” Grey’s voice is laced with frustration and understanding at the same time. It’s as if he knows me. His words a testament to that fact, because he’s right. I won’t let him in. I can’t let him in.

  I hear him move behind me seconds before I feel him pull me against him, my back to his front. He wraps his arms around me and dips his head down to my shoulder, kissing me lightly on the neck. His lips trace an imaginary line to the space behind my ear and I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of him. I turn slowly and move my hands to his hair as I pull his lips to mine, all at once needing to be with him in the only way I know.

  Grey must feel the same way as he pulls me tighter into his arms, his tongue wrapping around mine in a seductive dance. I can feel him grow hard against me and it only fuels the fire ignited in my core. Scooping me up in one swift move, Grey walks through my bungalow slowly, unsure of where to go, until he finds my bedroom and lies me gently on the bed. He slowly peels my yoga pants and lace panties from my body, followed by my T-shirt and bra. When I am completely naked, lying bare and vulnerable before him, he steps back and looks at me while he undoes his belt and pushes his slacks and boxer briefs to the ground. I meet his gaze until my eyes shift lower where he strokes his throbbing erection in his hand. The air feels thick and charged with a new intensity that I can’t explain, my need to feel him inside me just as strong as ever but shadowed by a sense of fear as if this is our first time together. I reach for him and close my eyes when I feel the weight of his body against mine. I can feel his gaze as if it is burning through my closed lids but I can’t look at him now – not when he’s this close.

  His hand finds my folds with a gentle yet potent caress, bringing me to the brink as my breath escalates until I am practically panting. And then with one slow, strong thrust he is inside me, and I melt around him as if he was made just for me. My fingers claw at his back as I pull him closer, his lips at my neck moving in the same slow, punishing rhythm as his hips. As he moves in and out of me, in complete control, I can’t help but feel something different from before. Swirled with the usual and intense heat in my belly, the frenzied need building in my core, is a sense of longing, an almost emptiness and fulfillment braided together as one. Grey never once changes his speed or his intensity, despite my pleas, as we move together until we both find what we are in search of. I explode around him just as he fills me with his release and I lay completely satiated in his arms. Emotions boil just below the surface, the debilitating fear threatens to take hold but I push it away. I feel tired, weary. As if Grey is my weakness, crumbling what little strength I have to keep the wall around my heart intact. I just want to lie here and relish in this feeling for a while. I want to feel something for just a moment longer, before it all evaporates into thin air and I’m left to deal with the consequences.

  I slowly open my eyes and feel Grey’s strong arms wrapped around me, the heat from his bare skin almost suffocating. The soft orange glow of dawn leaks in through the cracks in the blinds, alerting me that it’s morning and my body turns rigid at the realization that Grey and I slept together. He stayed the night. I turn slowly in his arms to wake him but I feel that little nudge again when I see the soft innocence of his features, the vulnerability captured by sleep. He stirs and pulls me tighter against him, a lazy smile appears on his face and I know that he’s awake even though his eyes are still closed.

  “Grey?” I whisper.

  “Mmm. Yeah,” he says, his voice scratchy from sleep.

  “Grey, get up, it’s morning,” I say, digging my finger into his shoulder.

  He smiles bigger and nuzzles in even closer.

  “Yes it is,” he says, kissing my cheek. “Let’s have morning sex.” I feel his erection digging into my hip.

  “We both have to be at work soon,” I say, unable to keep the anxiety from my voice.

  “Then let’s have quick morning sex,” he says, flipping me on top of him in one swift move.

  I try to push away from him, “Grey, I’m serious. You need to go.”

  “I’m serious too. And I need to come,” he says as he tries to kiss me. He’s laughing now. He thinks this is funny. He runs his hand down between us and I feel my body slowly begin to betray me. I don’t do morning sex. I don’t do sleepovers. But the feel of Grey’s hand in all the right places makes me feel at ease, it feels familiar. I moan and ease myself onto Grey, forgetting all about the fact that it’s morning, forgetting the way Grey unravels me, forgetting myself completely. I move slowly at first, finding a rhythm that works for both of us, and before long we are both panting and frantic with need until I am trembling above him, searching for breath. At the same time, I hear Grey grunt as he empties into me.

  I pause for a moment as my heart rate slows before peeling myself off of Grey, begging him to get dressed as he rolls over and buries his face in the pillow with a groan.

  I dash to the bathroom to clean up and when I return to the bedroom, I realize that it’s nearly time for us both to be at the office. Grey’s sitting on the end of my unmade bed in last night’s clothes. I stand across the room and cinch the tie on my silk robe as I watch him slip on his dress shoes and I can’t help but feel frazzled. How do I walk into the office and act as if I didn’t just kick him out of my bed?

  In a quiet command, he says, “Come here.”

  I walk slowly to him and he pulls me down on his lap, his hand grazing my bare thigh where my robe is split open. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he says, looking deep into my eyes.

  I close my eyes for a quick second and take a deep breath before meeting his gaze. “Dinner? I can’t...”

  “It’s just two people sharing a meal, Charley. Do
n’t freak out,” he smirks.

  “Dinner,” I repeat with my lips pursed, trying it on for size.

  “Yes, dinner. With me. In public. Can you handle it?” He’s challenging me, something he has only done in the bedroom, but he knows me well enough to know that I never back down from a challenge.

  “I can handle it,” I retort with a smile.

  “Good,” he says, weaving his fingers in my hair and pulling my face to his. He places a gentle kiss on my lips, taking my breath away in an instant. It’s too much all at once.

  “Grey?” I open my eyes slowly.

  “Yeah?”

  “I want to have dinner with you. I do. But I can’t tonight. Can I take a rain check?”

  His face is inches from mine as he stares at me for a beat.

  “Okay, not tonight. Saturday night then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  I nod. “Okay, Saturday night.”

  He kisses me once more and as I start to stand, he smacks me on the ass, startling me.

  “Get your hot ass to work, Miss Brant. You’re late. Again.”

  I turn and catch his wicked grin. My thighs clench. I want this man too much, I think. And that thought makes my heart clench.

  Chapter 17

  Gwen

  I sit at the kitchen counter, staring aimlessly out the glass doors with my hand wrapped around a full mug of coffee that I can’t seem to muster enough strength to lift to my lips. I can see the green grass glistening with dew in the back yard and beyond that, the island ferry inching across the sound, leaving behind a subtle v-shaped wake. The sun is shining today, lighting up the glasslike surface of the water with a fiery glare. It’s a beautiful day, and yet I can’t seem to snap out of my dark mood. I feel depressed. Tired. A feeling that I’m not familiar with.