Nuts About You: A Testicular Cancer Anthology

by Anthology

  The day before our wedded bliss, Savannah had been praying and pulling all sorts of old wives’ tale schemes in hopes the weather would be perfect. When the news forecasted a hurricane moving up the coast, she was devastated. If there was anything more I could give her on her wedding day, it was the sun. Knowing very well that I had no control over the situation, I appeased my girl and offered my help and support in any way I could. After planting silverware in her parents’ flowerbed and saying a few Hail Mary’s, I figured we had done our part. We sure as hell tried and since neither one of us were God nor Mother Nature, there really wasn’t much more she or I could do.

  When I woke up the next morning, I was ecstatic as I looked out the window. Savannah had gotten exactly what she wished for, the sun was shining bright and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The day she had always dreamed of as a little girl, was indeed going to be perfect.

  The next few hours seemed to pass by in a blur. My stomach was in knots. I was a grown ass man and a successful businessman; there was no need for me to be feeling the way I was. I had power, I thrived on control, yet there was nothing I could do to stop the uneasiness that filtered through my veins.

  Once I left the house and met the groomsmen at the church, I felt as if I was in a fog for the rest of the day. Moments swept past me with little to no recognition. Now as I look back, I really don’t remember much from my wedding day.

  That is, except for two specific key points.

  The first, was when I caught sight of Savannah walking down the aisle, my heart skipped a beat as my knees went weak. I had never seen her look more beautiful as I did that day. I watched her every step as she moved toward me in hopes that her eyes would meet mine. I mentally called out to her as the smile spread further and further across her lips. As she neared the front of the church, I turned to see what or who it was she was so focused on looking at. The look on her face of pure happiness was not directed at me, her future husband, but to the man standing behind me. She was looking into the eyes of my best man, my best friend and my brother.

  Why in the hell would she be looking at him?

  Why in the fuck would she be looking at him and smiling as if she had just won the lottery?

  For a split second I was confused, but the sound of the priest calling out to her father snapped me back to reality. I needed to get a grip, I was losing my mind and imaging something that wasn’t real. It was my wedding day and I wouldn’t allow anything to stop me from feeling the love and happiness I had for Savannah.

  The second moment that rings like a nagging bell within my skull is where I saw my brother, Donnie, and my wife, Savannah, talking on the terrace at our reception. As I approached them, I could hear my brother’s raised tone, but couldn’t make out the words he was saying. Savannah’s expression was sad as I saw the tears fall down her face. I continued to watch, my feet stuck to the terrace floor as if they were cemented. His hand reached out for her arm, but she pulled away. Her head fell down into the palm of her hands as her body began to tremble.

  What could they be discussing?

  Why would my wife be so torn by the words shed by my brother?

  I felt lost, unsure of what was actually taking place. I probably should have gone to her, comforted her and found out why she seemed so distraught, but I didn’t.

  It was within those two moments of time that I knew exactly what was going on. I could hear it, see it and feel it, yet I was too damn naïve and scared to admit what was happening before my eyes. I was happy, very happy. I married my college sweetheart, I had the career I always wanted and life was amaz . . . err, it was good. But no matter how much I wanted us to be happy, things were becoming apparently clear that our relationship was one sided.

  Where the hell did I go wrong?

  What happened to change things so drastically that I didn’t see it before then?

  Now, time has passed and I’m smack dab set back into reality . . . my present day. Our wedding has come and gone. We’ve celebrated three anniversaries, yet there has always been that unhealthy feeling rushing through me. I never questioned Savannah or Donnie about my concerns that day, I let it go. I went on with my life hoping we would have the perfect future, but I couldn’t fix what I knew was wrong. The life I wanted and envisioned was a lie. I thought we were happy . . . well, that may be a stretch looking back now, but I’ll fill you in on that lil’ tidbit later.

  As much as I imagined things were wonderful, glamorous and happy, they were far from it. It may have taken me three years, six months and ten days to do what I’m about to do, but believe you me, I felt it from that very day I said I do.

  My story may not be one anyone cares to hear me tell, but after today the ball will forever be in my court and I’m ready to play.

  Chapter One

  One Year and Five Days After the Wedding

  Our road together may be rocky, but I’m willing to put on my boots and endure the hike.

  “Why did we have to take this trip again?” Savannah groans as we settle into our first-class seats on the plane.

  I watch her as she fiddles with the seatbelt, tightening it to a point I’m concerned she won’t be able to breathe. The strong woman I know is quickly becoming a scared little girl as her tanned complexion turns to a ghostly white.

  “Umm, I don’t know. Maybe because you wanted to travel to a tropical island to celebrate our anniversary,” I respond with a laugh, rubbing my hand onto her thigh.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. Maybe we should hop off this plane and stay on the island forever,” she says with a smile. “I’m sure we could work remotely. We’ll just need the firms to send us some equipment so we can make it happen. Or, you can commute back and forth. That’ll work. Just please, please don’t make me fly on this plane,” she rambles then pauses with a look of apprehension spread across her face. “I really don’t want to take off into the big blue sky, Chad. I feel like I’m going to be ill,” she remarks, her lips turning into a pout while she stares out the window.

  “Sweetheart, you need to calm down,” I whisper, pulling her face into my hands. “You’re being a bit dramatic, Savannah. I don’t know where this fear comes from. You’ve flown hundreds of times in your life. Sit back, take a deep breath and if you feel the need to vomit, I’ll hold back your hair,” I reply with a wink.

  With a look that could kill, she pushes my hands away from her before pulling a hair tie from her wrist and tossing her long curls into a ponytail.

  Shit, that was definitely the wrong approach to take. Fuck . . . fuck, here we go.

  “I was just . . .” I mutter, but not before she pops in her ear buds, rests her head against her pillow and closes her eyes.

  Releasing a burst of air through my lips, I do the exact same thing while we wait to take off. She hates to fly, yet our anniversary destination required us to hop on a plane. It is a completely absurd fear and one she refused to back away from in typical Savannah fashion. No matter how much I argued and attempted to come up with another plan, she wouldn’t have it . . . she’s stubborn like that. It’s moments like this I really do not understand the woman I married. She’s changed in so many ways, I’m not quite sure which way is up or if she’s spiraling down an emotional corridor.

  After spending a week in absolute paradise, one would think that my wife would be calm and refreshed. No, not Savannah, instead she’d rather focus on negativity as opposed to the amazing trip we just concluded.

  I love my wife, I truly do, but her obstinate ways frustrate me beyond belief.

  Over the last year, we’ve gone through some good and bad times. I’ve tried to push away the ridiculous thoughts I had on our wedding day and focus on a life we both would cherish, but some days, in the silence of our home, it’s not all that easy. No matter how much I try, regardless of the romantic date nights and gestures I’ve provided, it seems as though there is something still keeping us apart.

  When we first met, we were in college and had little to no stress facto
rs impairing us from being happy. We were inseparable, enjoyed every moment we were together and dreamed of what our futures would look like after graduation. We had visions, a purpose to make it through life together and take down anyone who stood in our way. Everything we planned was going to be perfect.

  Now, here we are as adults. On the business front, life couldn’t be grander. Savannah and I are known as the dynamic power couple within the city. Together, we are driven by success and by no means want to show signs of weakness personally or professionally, especially since we are on opposing sides of our corporate takeovers. I’m known as the man in control, a businessman who speaks his mind and won’t take no for an answer. My wife is quite the same. She is a ruthless, skilled and educated woman who will fight for what she wants, no holds barred. Her tenacious personality is one of the many characteristics that to this day, still lure me to her. The trouble and turmoil that sits like a weighted elephant on my chest is finding enough time to figure out what exactly is broken in our personal lives. To be honest, some days it seems more exhausting to fight with her over the petty shit than just allowing the days to pass me by. Whether I’m happy or not, her silent treatments and distance win every damn time. I hate to lose and it infuriates me, but lately, when it comes to my wife, she is beginning to tear off the pants I wear in the relationship while running around with them on her head.

  Silently laughing at my idiocies and the visual in my head, I realize it isn’t that funny at all. Something has got to give . . . something needs to change.

  As the pilot and flight attendants prepare us for landing, I glance over to Savannah. In her seat, she sits with her long dark curls pulled into a pony tail, her brilliant green eyes closed and her bottom lip trembling between her teeth. I want to laugh at how adorably frightened she looks, but I won’t. She’d kill me. Continuing to watch her from the corner of my eye, I can’t help but silently chuckle as her petite hand reaches out to squeeze mine. The sensation of her fears pulling from her ignites a thrill of control over the situation. Grasping her hand with my own, I use my free arm to pull her in close to my body. This measure of security may seem small and minute to some, but the fact she is allowing me to protect her is all I need in this exact moment. Resting my chin onto the top of her head, I rub gentle circles onto the palm of her hand with my thumb. Slowly I begin to feel her body relax and lean into me.

  This feeling, right here, in this exact second . . . this is what I want from my wife. The stubborn, hard ass can remain in the board rooms, but when we are alone I want the walls down and her heart open and accepting of the love I have to give her.

  Chapter Two

  Surprises are always lurking around the corner. Perhaps I should be prepared with balloons, streamers, or better yet . . . some Xanax.

  As we pull into the driveway, I notice the lights are on in the house.

  Damn it, Donnie. You had one job to do . . . watch the house and turn off the lights.

  Cursing my brother under my breath, I don’t know how hard it was for him to follow strict instructions. He knows leaving the lights on when we’re not home is one of Savannah’s biggest pet peeves.

  What the hell was he thinking?

  Opening the garage door, I see that his car is parked in my spot.

  Son of a bitch, what the hell is he still doing here?

  Annoyance and frustration begin to boil through my veins. To say I’m a bit surprised my brother is in my house would be an understatement. While we were away, we had asked him to check on the property from time to time. I didn’t expect him to take up residence. He knew our plans. We were very clear on when we were to return from our vacation.

  “What is he doing here?” Savannah asks in between yawns.

  “No clue. In fact, I was just wondering the same thing,” I respond. “You go ahead inside. I’ll grab our bags and meet you in the house in a bit.”

  Without a word, she exits the vehicle and slams the door shut.

  Jesus Christ, she needs to relax.

  She’s been wound tight ever since we took off earlier and her attitude is wearing on my tired ass. I don’t want to fight with her, not tonight and especially since Donnie is apparently here. With a burst of irritation releasing from my lungs, I turn off the engine to my car. This is not at all how I expected to return from my trip. No, not at all. I wanted to come home, relax and fall into my bed while making love to my wife. Now, I need to deal with Donnie and whatever surprises he has in store for me when I walk into my home.

  Rather than wait a second longer, I exit my car and move to the trunk for our bags. As I make my way into the house, I hear their muffled voices and then the sound of glass breaking. Unsure what in the hell is going on, I toss the bags onto the floor and make my way toward Savannah’s loud scream.

  As I walk into the living room, I catch sight of a girl wrapped in a blanket and Donnie standing in front of the fireplace in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I spout, rushing to Savannah’s side.

  “Your wife just threw a glass vase at my face. Thank God I ducked or else it would have hit me instead of the mantle.”

  “You are incorrigible, Donnie. I wish that vase would have hit you in the head. Then maybe, just maybe, it would have knocked some sense into you. Why the hell would you bring another woman into my home?”

  “Savannah, shhh it’ll be fine. I’ll handle this. Please go upstairs and get yourself settled,” I request while rubbing my hand up and down her back.

  She’s gasping for air, her body trembling.

  “Chad, your brother has turned our home into a whore house. How can you stand here so calmly? He’s fucking another woman on our couch.” Her shrill voice sends shock waves through my body.

  “Savannah, it’s not what it looks like. She’s just . . .”

  I stop him right there. There is no need for an explanation, he needs to leave and do it now. Savannah is on the verge of a panic attack of some sorts and I’m not sure if I should attend to her needs or kick my brother and his . . . whatever the fuck she is, out of my house. Glancing to the woman, still on the couch, I almost feel sorry for her. As she sits there, her head resting in her hands, I can’t imagine what she is thinking or feeling. For all she knew, she was in for a night of fun and excitement. Instead, she’s fallen smack dab into a family feud. This entire situation could have been avoided if Donnie would have taken her back to his place, not ours.

  “Donnie, you knew very well we were coming home tonight. Why are you here? No . . . don’t even answer that. Just get out. This is our home and at the least I would have expected you to respect that.”

  “Bro, chill. I don’t know what uptight shit you two ate or did on your little vacation, but you both are flipping out over nothing. I’m not fifteen and we’re not throwing a rave here. We are two grown adults spending some quality time together. We lost . . . I lost track of time. My bad,” he responds, moving toward the couch to grab his clothes.

  “Asshole, this is my home, my home. How could you?” she cries out, but not before rushing out of the room in tears.

  What the hell?

  Why the fuck is she crying?

  I’m pissed off beyond belief as well, but there’s no need to get emotional over it. Steering my gaze toward my brother, a look of dread is plastered across his face while he begins to pace the living room.

  “Donnie?” The woman’s voice breaks through the silence.

  Without paying any attention to her, Donnie takes a step toward me. The expression on his face has me lost for words. His dark eyes are saddened, his mouth drawn into a frown. There’s no doubt in my mind that he is mentally distraught, but over what . . . I’m not completely sure. Has he let me down, yes. Did he make a mistake by what we just walked in on, yes. But the question that is nagging through my mind is this all over him and the woman or the fact that my wife ran off crying.

  “I’m sorry, Chad. I didn’t mean—” He pauses for a moment, runni
ng his fingers through his dark hair. “We’ll go.”

  “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” I respond watching as the two of them grab their things and leave my home.

  For a moment I feel like I’ve been placed into the Twilight Zone. The past week has been amazing. Savannah and I were able to enjoy each other’s company without work, family or friends interrupting us. We needed this time away to be alone and rekindle the romance we once shared. Now we’re home and it seems as though our worlds are right back to where we left them, chaotic and crazed.

  Walking around the downstairs of my home, I’m hesitant to go upstairs. The way Savannah handled tonight has me questioning her actions and bringing me back to the same insecurities I felt on our wedding day. I can’t get over the uneasiness that sits like a rock in my stomach when the two of them are together. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to question the relationship between my brother and my wife, but right now my mind is reeling.

  It would probably be best to go to our room and check on her, yet I can’t gather my thoughts enough to see what I may find when I approach her. Instead, I decide to go into my office and catch up on some work emails. I need to clear my thoughts and remove myself from this rollercoaster. If nothing else, it’ll give us both some time to move on from what we walked in on tonight.

  Chapter Three

  Three Hundred and Sixty-Four Days Later

  A blindfolded man can feel his way through a room, but seeing what is right in front of you and being blind is a whole other story.

  Shit . . . shit!!

  I’m not a man who deals well with a loss, especially when the win goes to the woman I married. I’m furious and the smug look on her face as I walked away is one that I’m not quite sure I will get over by the time we get home tonight.

  Fuck!

  This was a big sale, a big fucking deal for our firm that I just lost. I thought had this one. I was sure that everything was in order and our offer was much more substantial than hers.