“And don’t go changing anyone’s tires during the middle of the night,” I go on.
He gets a kick out of that one, his body shaking with laughter. “I won’t, Strange Girl.”
“Crazy Man.”
* * *
The next morning, around 6:15 AM, I am kissing my husband goodbye. Sonny’s arm wraps around me and she holds me close.
So much emotion has been trapped inside me for the past week. So much I can’t explain. I’ve been forcing back the tears—refusing to get upset and end up begging him to stay. I’ve been strong, but I don’t think I can be stronger for much longer.
Now that he’s gone, I feel a hole in my chest—a cavity that won’t be filled until he returns.
And then there’s the knowing… knowing that any day now I might not be able to walk down my staircase or even to the bathroom in my bedroom. It could happen over the weekend, while he’s away.
It could happen today… while he’s on his flight.
That’s what scares me.
That’s what kills me.
The devastation it will bring. Sooner or later those blue and white pills won’t give me energy and the OPX won’t assist me.
My eyes welt, hot and thick with tears. I try blinking them away, batting my eyelashes wildly as I watch him walk through the terminal and wave once more.
When his plane finally takes off, I come to the realization that he’s gone—that he’ll be many miles away from me for way too many hours.
I won’t be able to touch him.
Hug him.
Kiss him.
Stare into his blue eyes.
Watch him laugh.
Feel him hold me during the middle of the night as we sleep…
The hole is bigger now, almost like little imaginary men are digging away at my heart, shoveling whenever a wave of emotion rushes by.
My tears finally fall free and Sonny holds me tighter, turning me around and whispering that we should go as we make way for the exit.
The ride is quiet. Not even the radio is on. Sonny understands. She allows me to dwell in the silence. When we get home, she helps me upstairs. I tell her I’m going to take a shower, which, in sister lingo means I want to be left alone.
“I’ll come back to check on you in a few.” She pats the top of my shoulder and walks out of the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind her.
Stripping myself bare, I step onto the cold marble shower floor, pressing my head on the wall across from me.
The warm water streams through my thin hair, down the curves of my back. Luckily, my tears blend with the water. I don’t feel as helpless. The warmth comforts only a small part of me.
I remember the shower we took a few days ago. How he held me from behind, showered me with kisses, allowing water to spill between our lips as they parted.
Then, the bathroom became steamy, heating up. I felt nothing but pure joy as we made love. As he gripped my slippery skin, and caressed every part of my body.
He held me so close, refusing to let go as I laughed behind his lips.
I cry even harder, my core getting sore from thick sobs and shuddering, glad to know my quiet cries blend with the white noise.
When I finally stop, I shut the shower off, carefully stepping out and wrapping my body in a white towel. I enter the bedroom, sitting on the center of the king-sized bed.
My phone rings during my blank stare at the wall across from me moments later.
MAX
I ignore the call.
He calls again.
Ignore.
He calls once more.
I don’t answer.
My phone chimes.
A text.
Max: I knw the hound is gone. Pick up and tlk to me.
I place my phone down.
I haven’t spoken to him since the day John told me he was going to Vegas. John deserved all of my attention and time, and it’s a good thing Max kept his distance during it.
A knock sounds on the door and Sonny trots in with a tray in her hand, a hot bowl of soup and juice sitting on top.
Placing it on the stand beside me, she says, “John told me to make sure you eat. I expect that bowl to be empty when I come back, missy.” She whips out her cellphone. “I’m going to go call Danny.”
She’s out of the door again, purposely avoiding looking into my puffy eyes. When I’m ready, I will talk to her. She knows this and luckily for me she respects it.
When she’s gone my eyes land on the tray, my upper lip peeling back in disgust. Food is the last thing I want right now.
Climbing off the bed, I march for my closet and take down a T-shirt and some jogging pants. After getting dressed, I go back for the tray, taking it to the bathroom, turning on the faucet, and dumping the apple juice down the sink. The tomato soup goes next.
My phone rings again and I rush back for it, snatching it up and answering. “What?!”
“Damn.” Max’s voice comes through the receiver. “Am I interrupting something?”
“What do you want?”
“I haven’t heard from you in a few days. Everything all right?”
“Yes. Everything is fine.” My tone is dry and he catches my standoffishness.
Hesitant, he asks, “Shakes, what’s going on?” His voice is full of concern. The sympathy from him feels like salt being rubbed into a deep wound. It hurts. Stings.
“I’m fine.” I do my best to keep my voice from trembling.
“You can talk to me. Remember that.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, tapping my foot, staring down at my pink toenails to prevent tears. It doesn’t work. I need to talk to someone.
Sonny is in too much of a cheerful mood because of her phone calls with Danny. I don’t want to ruin it right now with my problems.
So I go for it. “It’s…J—” Finally, I break down. I break because I can’t even say his name out loud without feeling the ache. “It’s John.” My voice is thick with tears. I want to wail—howl to the moon, but somehow I keep my composure.
“John? What do you mean? Did you argue with him before he left?”
I can’t speak. I have so much to say but I can’t fucking speak. Never in my life have I felt so weak. So helpless. So pointless. Never. How can the absence of one man make me feel this way?
“Shannon?” he calls, which makes it worse.
I crumble, sobbing into the phone. Not intentionally. I simply can’t help it.
Max curses beneath his breath. “Calm down, all right? Crying that hard isn’t good for your lungs…”
But I don’t. I can’t.
“I’m on the way.” He hangs up and, with little effort, I drop the phone on the bed, walking to the light switches and shutting the lights off. The sun is still out, but the black curtains help me hide.
I slide beneath the sheets, curling up in the fetal position, allowing more darkness to cover me. Tears slide across the bridge of my nose, landing on the pillows.
My body shudders and shakes for nearly twenty minutes. Before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep.
When I wake up, it’s still bright outside.
I sit up quickly, glancing around the room with hope in my heart. Pushing out of bed, I march for the window and look out. That hope vanishes when I still see Sonny’s car out there.
If she’s still here, that means John isn’t.
I look back at the alarm clock.
2:15 p.m.
I sigh and go back to bed. Maybe I can sleep my days away until he comes back. I succumb.
* * *
A hand touches my shoulder, gentle fingers running through my hair. For a moment, I think it’s John… that is, until the familiar voice rises.
“Shakes?”
I sniffle. “Oh, hey, Max.”
He walks around the bed, bending down in front of me. “Hey.” He puts on a genuine smile. “What the hell is going on with you? Two days you were up here. Sonny told me not to bother you. Your doctor has been in and out,
but he says you’re fine.
Has he? I didn’t even notice.
“Talk to me,” Max pleads.
My bottom lip twitches, ready to dump it all on him. I don’t think he’ll be able to handle the pressure, but as he looks at me, fully concerned, I finally let it out. “It’s John,” I whisper.
“You’re upset that he’s gone?”
“A little more than upset.”
He struggles with a smile and a frown. My worries subside for the briefest moment. It’s cute the way his face tries to configure to just one.
“I wanted to go with him but I can’t even do that. I can’t even make memories with him anymore. I’m stuck here. I’m fucking useless.”
“That’s bullshit. You can still go places.”
“But I couldn’t go there. Stupid dry heat. Stupid fucking lungs.”
He’s perplexed, observing my miserable demeanor. “Don’t think of it that way. That’s only one place in the world. There are far greater places to go… things to do.”
“It’s too late to go anywhere or do anything.”
He presses his lips, placing a hand on the top of my arm. “He will be back. I’m sure he misses you already.”
“How would you know?” I ask with a hint of frustration. “You don’t even like him.”
“Because I would miss you.” His eyes soften as he strokes my arm. “And he’s been calling Sonny non-stop about you ‘cause you aren’t answering your phone.”
I scramble for my phone, but when I pick it up and press the button, it doesn’t come on. Dead. I put it on the charger immediately and then climb back into bed.
With a heavy sigh, Max stands to his feet, helping me sit up. “No. No more of that. Come on,” he says, “You gotta get up. We have to get you out of this house. That might be what’s bringing you down. He’s everywhere in this place. You smell him. You see pictures of him. Everything in this house probably reminds you of him.” True. “Come on,” he repeats, this time with bass in his voice.
He tugs me up. “And go where?”
“Anywhere.”
“Not the park,” I tell him, sort of teasing.
“Doesn’t have to be the park. Maybe some ice cream? We can take Sonny.”
A smile touches my lips but not my eyes. “She’d love that.” And the fact that he offers to bring her stuns me. They hate dealing with each other.
“Get dressed,” he orders, helping me off the bed and then walking to the door. “I’ll be waiting downstairs when you’re ready.”
I nod my head, watching the door shut behind him. When he’s gone I sit for a while, staring at the wall across from me again.
Max is right. Being here all day, locked inside a home that belongs to us, will only wear me down. I could sit here and mope about my husband being gone and the truth that I could die at any given moment, but I won’t. I have to get back to how I was before.
I have to be strong. If not for them, then at least for myself.
I need to pull my shit together and that is exactly what I’m going to do. I stand up with my jetpack, entering the closet and taking down a navy-blue romper. I slip into it, grabbing my favorite brown fedora and sandals.
I take a thorough look in the mirror. The romper is a little big on me now, but it’ll have to do. The hat is still stylish, given to me by my baby sister.
I apply some gloss to my lips, a light coat of mascara, and then I’m out the bedroom door.
I stop at the top of the staircase and Max is already waiting at the bottom.
When he hears me coming down, his eyes expand, meeting mine. I can read so much from his expression alone. He likes what he sees.
I find it shocking since I no longer have the body I used to have when we were together. Being this thin is surprisingly disappointing.
There are moments when I really can’t believe I used to complain about my thighs and butt being too big.
I’d kill to have my old apple bottom back, my curvy, healthy thighs. And yes, even the small dimples of cellulite.
Max takes the stairs by twos coming up, helping me the rest of the way down. When we’re at the bottom, he steadies me, his hands on my shoulders. He looks at me for quite some time, making me feel beyond awkward.
“What?” I ask, lowering my head.
“You look great, Shakes.” He steps back, looking me over again. “Go ahead,” he says, flashing a crooked smile, “do a jig.”
“Oh no.” I wave my hands at him, laughing as I place my backpack on my shoulders. “No dancing.”
“Come on! It’s been so long since I’ve seen Little Shakes in action.”
“Little Shakes is no longer capable of those things.”
“I’m sure she is. Give me life, Shakes.” He holds his hands out, giving me the floor.
I look up at him, containing my laughter. “You are out of your mind if you think I’m about to dance for you right now. I’m not in a dancing mood.”
“Come on! I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.” He begs me with his eyes, flapping those big eyelashes at me with a lazy, boyish grin.
“Okay—all right!” I step back. “Fine. Screw it.” I do a quick dance, busting out in a laugh as I move to the sound of nothing. I even do a slow version of the Running Man.
Max cheers me on, holding himself and laughing so hard tears form. “Man,” he wheezes, swiping at the corners of his eyes, “You have no idea how much I needed that.”
I adjust my backpack, feeling like my face is about to break from grinning so hard. “I’m done embarrassing myself for you. For that, you’re paying for the ice cream.”
“Hey—” he drapes a muscular arm across my shoulders, turning for the kitchen where Sonny is, “—it was worth it.”
* * *
We pull up to Dairy Queen on Central Avenue.
I’m technically not supposed to eat anything cold, but my husband is gone and I am in need of a pick me up.
I dive into my mini Oreo Blizzard as soon as it’s handed to me, licking off the spoon after each bite.
“Ohmagod.” My mouth is full and cold but I am not complaining. “This is so good. It’s been so long since I’ve had ice cream.”
“Do you even remember the last time you had it?” Sonny questions, digging into her strawberry shortcake sundae.
“I honestly can’t even remember.” I take another bite, the crunchy, chocolaty goodness of the Oreos smothering my taste buds. “But I swear I can taste everything right now. Screw the chocolate, Sonny. From now on, sneak me these DQ Blizzards.”
She’s surprised by my comment, snickering. “Yes ma’am.” She does her signature move, sarcastically saluting me.
“Why aren’t you allowed to have it anyway?” Max asks, biting into his hotdog. “Everyone deserves a little ice cream here and there.”
I shrug one shoulder. “Dr. David, my old doctor, swore it would mess with how the OPX works.” I glance down at my jetpack. “I think he was just being over the top. Other than not being able to do strenuous activity, no one really knows what will be okay and what won’t. Like the whole chocolate and sweets thing,” I point my red spoon towards Sonny but keep my eyes on him. “Dr. David swore that it would harm me—cause an upset stomach if it got mixed with the treatment. Well, Sonny snuck me a whole bar one night and I was fine. Since then I stopped believing so much of what he said and went with trusting my body. On the days I felt bad, I wouldn’t eat sweets, but on my good days I’d devour them. All he was doing was making us paranoid, especially John. I even asked Dr. Barad about it and he said he’d never heard of such a thing.”
“What a dick. So you like your new doctor?” Max inquires.
“Like?” I raise a brow. “More like love.”
“I love him too. She has so much energy now. Whatever prescription he gave is fucking amazing. This is the most energy I’ve seen from her in weeks. He doesn’t sedate her, which I like, because Dr. David constantly had an IV in her arm. I hate that man, but John loves him. Thinks he
’s the best doctor in Charlotte.”
I scoff. “The guy’s an asshole if you ask me. Snobby son of a bitch too.”
Sonny laughs. “Maybe that’s why John didn’t want you home. Because he knew you’d be off IV’s and free to do whatever you want.”
“No shit. I bet he wishes I was on them right now. That way he’ll know for sure that I’m not going to do anything crazy.”
“What, did he make you promise not to do anything crazy?” Max asks, picking up his drink and holding back on a laugh.
I give him an obvious look. “Of course.”
“The guy is so protective. What does he think will happen?”
Sonny is quiet as she meets my eyes. She slowly eats her sundae as her smile evaporates. She already knows the answer to that question. It’s not what he thinks will happen. It’s what he knows will happen sooner or later.
I look down at my nearly empty cup, pressing my lips. “The same thing you’re afraid of when it comes to me, Max.”
I dare myself to look up and see his expression. He’s… shocked. Sonny’s cellphone goes off on the table and as if she’s starring in Saved By The Bell, she hops up, informing us that it’s Danny and that she has to take it. She rushes away, walking towards my white Lexus.
“Okay, so the man is outrageous and all, but I have to admit he has a right to be a little protective of you.” Max sits by my side, exhaling as he focuses on the wooden tabletop. “We can’t pretend that it won’t happen. Life is fucked up. We all know that.”
“Yeah…”
“So if he’s afraid that his wife will… pass away while he’s not around, you should understand that.”
“You don’t think I know that? Max, I was upstairs in my bedroom soaking the sheets with my tears because that was the very thing I was afraid of. I don’t want him away, but I also don’t want to hold him back from his dream. It’s not his fault I’m sick. Shit happens.”
His lips thin, face hardening. “True.”
I inhale, releasing it slowly. It stings my lungs a little.
A little girl walks by, pointing at me as she licks away at the ice cream stacked on her cone. Max frowns at the little girl as the mother hurries away with her, scolding her daughter as she puts her in her booster seat.
Infinity: Based on a True Story Page 15