by Kim Jones
I have an answer, but only to that last question. I can’t run because she needs me. And I promised her I would never leave her again. But I’ve already broken that promise once, and I’m a coward.
“Don’t run from me, Dirk.” Maybe it’s because I started to pull away. Maybe it’s because of her ability to read my mind or maybe it’s because she knows me well enough to know what my plan of action is. Whatever the reason for her words, they are what I need to hear.
When she tries to pull away, I hold her closer. And I let Shady’s words cut through my brain. It shouldn’t take this kind of news for me to want to hold on to her. She could have died in a car wreck, or from an aneurism or a fucking kidney infection. Does it really take her saying the words I’m dying for me to realize our time together is limited? Even after I’d heard them, I ran. What about all the time I’ve wasted? What about all the nights I left her? What the fuck was I thinking? I should have held her this tight and kept her this close from the moment I knew she owned my heart.
We all have to die, but it’s one of those things we choose to ignore because we don’t want to imagine life without the people that mean the most to us. But, the truth is, no matter if it’s in six months or sixty years, Saylor is going to die. So am I.
One day, I will wake up and she won’t be here, or she will wake up and I won’t be here. Knowing that I only have at most six months makes me want to give her what she desires even more. And that’s me. Because I am all she wants. I can feel it every time I touch her. I can hear it in every word she speaks and I can see it every time I look in her eyes.
If Saylor only has six months, then I will give her six months of my undivided attention. I won’t waste my time with fighting or ignoring her. I will make each moment count, just like I should have done weeks ago. I won’t be selfish. I’ll devote all my time to her and what she desires. Today we are alive, and I’m no longer afraid of losing her. I won’t have to live long without her anyway. Because when she dies, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’ll die too.
—
We flew back to Jackson today, because Saylor has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. She told me this morning and she said it as if she didn’t care much either way. She then told me that she wasn’t planning on going, but now that things have changed, she needs to be there.
I know what changed, and the thought puts me back in my self-hating shitty mood, and that’s not a place I want to be. So I ignored her words and booked us on the first flight out.
I don’t want to hear the doctors remind her of what she already knows, but I’ll go because she asked me to, and every moment I’m with her counts. Even the bad ones.
I could tell she was nervous and when I asked her what was wrong, other than the obvious, she said this appointment would tell her how much the tumor had grown in the past thirty days. I could read between the lines. I knew that this would determine if the six-month mark would increase or decrease.
Saylor was devout in her faith, but she was also human. Knowing she was near death was good for me because I could make her life on earth whatever she wanted. But, for her, it was one step closer to the unknown. We could say we believe all day, but faith can only take us so far. At some point, our human brain tells us we are leaving the only thing we’ve ever known and it is up to a supernatural being to determine our afterlife. It’s not logical.
My best advice to Saylor when the time neared would be to not overthink it. It wasn’t original or inspiring, but it was the best I had.
—
I try to be in a good mood the next morning, but I fail. I do manage to make her smile when I bring her doughnuts, but even that isn’t enough to make this sick feeling in my gut go away.
Donnawayne and Jeffery wanted to go, but she asked them to stay behind. They respected her wishes and promised to be at her apartment when we got back, but Donnawayne’s hatred for me grew when he found out I was going. Oh well, he would have to get used to me or get the fuck over it. I wasn’t going anywhere.
When we are finally called into the doctor’s office, Saylor is placed into a CAT scan machine, and then we are ushered into a room to wait for the doctor. I thought it took days to get results back, but it seemed they didn’t want to waste any time. The thought was unsettling. But now, here we are, at the oncology clinic in a private room, and Saylor is performing her eye-closing, hand-touching, nose-sniffing ritual. When she is finished, she looks at me and smiles, and I smile back. I’ve gotten better at it and she likes it, so I’m sure I’ll be a professional at it in no time.
When the doctor knocks on the door, I stand next to Saylor and hold her hand, noticing the tension leave her shoulders at my touch.
“Miss Samson!” the doctor sings, and he is the happiest bastard I’ve ever met in my life. I wonder if he is putting on a good show or just a sick fuck who gets pleasure out of telling people they are dying. If it’s the latter, I’ll kill him.
“This must be Dirk.” He beams at me and sticks out his hand. Not wanting to be rude to the man that could potentially save the love of my life, I shake it. “Saylor has told me a lot about you over the years. I’m glad to finally see the two of you together.”
My eyes go to Saylor but she is avoiding my stare. Years? We’d been together weeks, not years. “I’m Dr. Beasley, the patient counselor.” His badge read clinic psychiatrist, but I guess that was more intimidating than counselor.
“I’ve known Saylor a long time.” He smiles fondly at Saylor, and I shift. I don’t like how he looks at her. Even though he is old enough to be her grandfather.
“What you got for me, Doc? I know they didn’t send you in here to say hello.” Saylor cuts right through the bullshit and I feel pride swell in my chest.
“No, they didn’t.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and I know the news isn’t good. “Saylor, they want you to try chemo. Now, you know that won’t stop this, but they would like to see if it slows it down. It’s more advanced than what your mama had, but it still has some pretty intense side effects. The team is pretty sure you’re strong enough to handle it, but we understand if you don’t want to do it.”
“Why? How much more time would I actually get out of doing this?” Saylor seems almost angry at the thought of going through this, and I move my thumb over her hand. When she looks up at me, I smile. She returns it, but it’s weak.
The doctor takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. I know he is debating on telling the whole truth or just what she needs to hear. When he sighs and takes a deep breath, I’m pretty sure what we are fixing to get is the truth, no matter how much it’s gonna kill him to say it.
“For you? Maybe a month or two longer. According to your CT results, the tumor hasn’t changed in size, so we’re pretty sure the treatment will help to shrink it, giving you the month or two longer I mentioned. But, as you already know, the quality of life is gonna go down drastically. The drug is powerful. You’ll lose your hair, be sick quite often, and possibly hospitalized for days at a time. You can stop whenever you want, but if you decide to do this, we are gonna need at least six weeks of treatment to make it worth doing.” He pauses to take a breath and Saylor finds her opening to ask what’s on both of our minds.
“So, you’re telling me my quality of life will go down. Even if it does prolong my life it wouldn’t be worth it. Why would I do that?”
“Another benefit is research. If we test it on you and see the tumor shrinks in size, we can get funded for more research on cases like yours. It’s very rare, but the number of patients diagnosed with your type of tumor has increased significantly over the past few years, and we want to find something to treat it or slow it down.”
“You want to try this on me, in hopes that it will shrink it so you can get funded to hopefully invent something that can prevent this in other families in the future?” Saylor is waiting for his confirmation that they’re using her as their fucking guinea pig. The last six months of her life won’t be spent in a hospit
al, while she withers away and dies. It will be spent doing things she’s never done, seeing places she’s never seen and spending time with me . . . Those were her words. Not mine.
“Advances have been made in being able to diagnose these tumors and differentiate them from other brain tumors. What I’m asking you to do may just offer these people some hope, treatment to prolong their lives, and possibly even a cure.” I’ve heard enough. I’m ready to get Saylor the hell outta here. I hoped they found a cure, just not at the expense of my girl. I stand, reaching my hand out to hers. But, before I can move, Saylor is speaking, and her words paralyze me.
“I’ll do it.”
18
“WE NEED A minute,” I tell the doctor when he starts to talk.
“No, we don’t,” Saylor says, refusing to look at me. I stand in front of her, placing my hands on either side of the exam table, and lower my head so she is forced to meet my eyes.
“I can show you the world, Saylor. I can make all of your dreams come true. Don’t do this. Don’t spend your last days sick and in a hospital. Enjoy life.” I’m grasping at straws, trying to convince her. I’m panicking, doing everything but begging her, which I’m not above doing.
“You have an advantage. You won’t take another day for granted because you know how limited they are. I’ll leave the club. I’ll stay with you. We can do anything you want, just please don’t do this.” Her eyes are filled with tears, and she is smiling. I think she enjoys me begging her, but I don’t care. Whatever it takes.
“What about all those other people? I agree I have an advantage, but what about a child? What kind of advantage do they have? Knowing they will never get old, or drive a car, or a motorcycle.” She throws the last part in with a smile and I know her mind is made up. “I have the chance to potentially save lives. Why wouldn’t I do that?”
Because I’m a selfish bastard that wants you all to myself. I want to tell her that. I want to scream it at her, but I don’t. I just look at her in defeat. She really is incredible.
“How long we got before she has to start, Doc?” I ask, pressing my forehead against Saylor’s.
“No longer than a month, if possible.” That was too soon.
“I want to wait until after Christmas. It’s my favorite holiday and I don’t want to spend it in and out of hospitals.” Saylor’s demands are easily accepted. After all, they were at her mercy.
“I’ll set it up.” The doctor leaves, neither of us bothering to acknowledge him. I keep my head against hers, staring at the backs of my eyelids. Just being in her presence makes the world okay. When I feel her fidgeting, I know she is going to say something, but I have no idea what it will be.
“So are you breaking up with me?” Saylor asks, the smile on her face telling me she already knows the answer.
“I’m here until the end. I promise.” And if death came calling for me before her, then I’d fight him and I’d win, because this time, I was keeping my promise.
—
“Now, I don’t have time for all that damn crying. Y’all gonna have to get your shit together or get the hell out. Think happy thoughts and all that shit.” Saylor’s words were falling on deaf ears. I’m watching the scene unfold from my position in the kitchen. I’m propped against the counter, eating an apple, trying not to find too much humor in Donnawayne and Jeffery falling on the floor and rolling around like fish outta water.
They took the news of Saylor’s decision for treatment about as well as I did. Minus the whole rolling-around-on-the-floor thing. Apparently, they knew about the tumor and had made a pact to not mention it when they were together. Now that the timeline was confirmed and Saylor was starting treatment in just under two months, their pact had gone to shit.
Saylor looked to me for help and I answered her with my signature don’t-fucking-think-about-it look.
“Hey!” The crying ceased at her demand and she even had my attention. “Who is dying here, huh? Who is gonna be laying up praying for death in a couple months? Not either one of you. So don’t expect me to show you any pity. Stop acting like a couple of fuckin’ drama queens.”
When she stomped out of the room, I heard her door slam and I was ready to kill them for upsetting her, but Saylor wouldn’t want that. I figured I should say something, but decided against it.
I let Saylor fume and watched as the guys hugged, then made their way to the kitchen. They were comfortable here, making themselves at home. I wondered how they would feel if I told them I wanted to take Saylor back to Nevada. Since they were important to her, I guess their opinion mattered.
“I want to take Saylor back to my place in Nevada. She likes it there.” They both turn to look at me, surprised to find me addressing them. Or I guess that’s why they were looking around the room to see if there was someone else here.
“Isn’t that romantic?” Jeffery asked, just before Donnawayne decided to speak.
“That’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard. Why you wanna take her away from two of the three people in her life that she cares about?” I saw his point, and I wanted to tell his boyfriend the frown wasn’t necessary, but it was too late. I would regret my next words, but for Saylor, I would say them.
“Y’all are welcome to come up anytime. We have plenty of room.” Jeffery beamed. Donnawayne rolled his eyes. I’m beginning to think he is holding a grudge because of the whole nose-breaking ordeal.
“Well, I think we all need to let Saylor decide what is best. And whatever she decides is fine with us,” Jeffery says, throwing daggers at Donnawayne, who surprisingly agrees. He sighs dramatically, of course, and nods his head.
“I guess I need to go apologize to my girl. No reason in her being pissed at her favorite.” He saunters out of the room and I want to correct him on my girl and favorite, but it will just start an argument that will lead to me breaking his neck instead of his nose.
—
We fly to Nevada the next morning and aren’t out of the airport before my phone goes off. Nationals.
“Come to the bar. Bring Saylor.” That’s all that is said before Jimbo hangs up. I don’t know what this is about, but I don’t like that they just assume I’m gonna bring her because they told me to.
Roach was pissed at me the last time I saw him, and I don’t need him taking his anger out on Saylor. If I don’t go, they will come to me, and I don’t want our house plagued with anything that doesn’t bring Saylor happiness. A bunch of bikers showing up and beating my ass because I disobeyed a direct order would definitely not make for a happy experience.
“Who was that?” Saylor asks, as we make our way hand in hand to the exit.
“Jimbo.”
“Oh.” The defeat in her voice has me stopping and grabbing her chin, lifting her head to look at me.
“I’m not leaving you. They just want to talk. I want you to come with me.” The fact that it is them that want her there is irrelevant.
“Okay.” She forces a smile and I know she’s worried. Not because she thinks I’m lying, but because of what they might ask me to do and what will happen if I refuse them.
“There is nothing to worry about,” I reassure her, and she sees something convincing in my face because she now seems at ease with the situation. I just wish I was.
I don’t have to get a taxi because Shady is waiting for us when we walk out. I hate asking questions, but there is just something I have to know.
“Why the fuck do you always just magically appear wherever I am?” He laughs, Saylor chastises me with her eyes, and I ignore both of them. I want an answer.
“Well, Dirk. There ain’t very many people in the club you actually talk to. Since I’m one of the chosen few, the club deems it necessary that where you go, I go. With the exception of some places.”
He is talking about when I go on runs, but there is an underlying meaning to his words that he finds funny. I choose to ignore that too. If I think too much on it, it’ll just piss me off. But I’m already pissed, so I reach ov
er the seat and slap him upside his head. He laughs and says he is kidding, but I know it hurt.
Next time, if he’s brave enough to do it again, I’ll cave in the side of his face with my boot. He will live, but he will look even more fucked up than he already does.
Saylor is looking at me like she can’t believe I just did that. I shrug and rake my eyes down her body. She is wearing leggings and an oversized sweater. Her boots have some kind of fur sticking out the top of them, and even though her feet have to be warm, I see she has her hand stuck down in the side of one, rubbing the bottom of her foot.
“It’s cold up here,” she says, and shivers again as she says it. I pull her legs into my lap and take her boots off, checking the inside of them to see that the fur is only on the top. Well that’s pointless. “They’re cheap. They look warm, but the air gets through them.”
“I’ll buy you more,” I say, while rubbing the life back into her feet.
“I’m on Coumadin. It’s a blood thinner. It’s supposed to help prevent clots, which apparently I’m more prone to, due to my fragile condition.” She dramatizes the last part and laughs. I smile at her. Saylor’s laughter is a beautiful thing. “Look, you can’t joke with me about buying me new boots. I kinda got a thing for them,” she says, pointing her finger at me. Good thing I was serious.
“Shady,” I call to the oblivious idiot driving us. I don’t look at him because I can’t pull my eyes off of Saylor, who is smiling with her eyes closed and enjoying the heated foot massage.
“Dirk.” Smart-ass.
“We need a mall,” I tell him and Saylor’s eyes open.
“A mall? What the fuck we gonna do at a mall?” I like that Shady is aggravated. I bet he has plans. I hope I fuck them up.
“Dirk is gonna buy me boots.” Saylor is talking to Shady, but she is looking at me, full of love and appreciation, and awe.
“Well, Dirk is gonna have to buy you some boots later ’cause it’s after nine and the mall is closed.” Saylor frowns, but I know she is only joking. “Now, I’m sure we can break in, but you are gonna have to be really quiet and do exactly as we say.” Shady acts as if he is talking to a child instead of a grown woman. He’s done it before and I’ve found it comical. Now not so much.