Interrupted (The Progress Series)

by Queau, Amy

  “Wouldn’t that be nice? The best Christmas gift ever, I think,” he managed to say.

  “When you get home I’m sure Mom can make you one, with a cherry even.”

  Karen nodded and turned toward the window.

  I hadn’t realized it was this bad. This happened so fast. Where have I been? Have I been this busy? Why haven’t I noticed that it won’t be long now?

  “Well, this is cozy!” Charlie said. “I’m glad we were all able to spend Christmas together. When are you going home?”

  “Probably some time today or tomorrow. They’ll have to transport him with a hospital van, because he has to have all of these machines come with him. We’ll have a nurse come to the house a couple times a day,” Karen said.

  “Well, that’s good! You’ll get that drink sooner than you thought.”

  *

  One by one, following their tradition, her family opened gifts. Socks, sweatshirts, mittens, framed photos; everyone seemed genuinely enthused with the afternoon, regardless of what was going on in their heads. They all put on brave and smiling faces despite their surroundings.

  “I’m going to go get some coffee,” Charlie said. “Anyone need anything?”

  “Nope, we’re good,” Sabrina said.

  Charlie’s sole mission was not a cup of coffee. She had to find her dad’s doctor, and fast. She needed answers. Answers that she knew her mother couldn’t admit as factual, even if she understood what they were telling her.

  “Excuse me; are you William Johnson’s doctor?”

  “Yes,” said the gentleman in the white coat.

  “Hi, I’m his daughter, Charlie. I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

  “The coffee is down the hall, to the right,” he said, seemingly uninterested in being bothered.

  “This isn’t about coffee, and I’d appreciate your full attention, please.”

  He snapped his head around and placed the clipboard over his stomach.

  “I’m sorry. What can I do for you, Charlie?”

  “Thank you. I have a reason to suspect that my mother is in slight denial about the severity of my father’s condition, or she’s just not familiar with medical jargon. Either way, I’d like for you to tell me what I can expect,” she said.

  His eyes holding something back, he responded, “It’s Christmas.” His expression grew troubled. “Spend this time with your family.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I believe the best gift I can receive today is the truth,” she said.

  He nodded and looked down at his feet. After a second, he looked back to her eyes. “We try to stay hopeful, but the cancer has spread to so many places we can’t do much besides keep him comfortable at this point. If it was my dad, I’d get hospice in as soon as I could.”

  After a sharp inhale, she nodded and smiled. “I appreciate your time and honesty. Have a merry Christmas.”

  She instantly put the prognosis out of her mind. She had to get through the rest of her artificially cheerful afternoon before she could think about what the doctor had said. Walking to the vending machines gave her enough time to focus on burying the truth in the back of her mind until she could sort it out, away from her family.

  She returned to her dad’s room and everyone was watching A Christmas Story on the television. Samuel was the only one who noticed Charlie standing in the doorway. He tilted his head to one side and furrowed his brow for an instant. He mouthed the words, is everything okay? Charlie realized she was frowning and instantly corrected it. She took a seat between Samuel and her dad.

  Throwing a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup on her dad’s lap, she smiled.

  “Just making sure you’re eating, Pops.”

  He let out a soft chuckle and focused on the television again.

  “Where’s your coffee?” Samuel whispered.

  Charlie shook her head and tried to watch the movie.

  *

  It was only two weeks later that Charlie got the call she had been preparing herself for.

  Her father had died at five o’clock that evening in his home.

  *

  Overcome with regret and on her knees, Charlie sobbed at her father’s bedside.

  “I never thanked him,” she whispered.

  And she never had. Every piece of advice: dismissed. Every dollar for lunch, cigarettes, and coffee: never paid back. The nights he stayed up worrying: ignored. Feeding her, clothing her, making sure she had a roof over her head: ungrateful.

  “I’m a horrible daughter. Daddy, I’m so sorry,” Charlie wailed into her father’s chest, trying to keep him close to her.

  She heard her sister and her mother crying behind her. Charlie knew that it was probably inappropriate to be so close to the still corpse of her father, but she didn’t care. If it was going to be the last chance she’d get to spend with him, she didn’t want to hold anything back. She had always restrained from expressing the emotion she had for her parents, because what she felt was too strong for words. No matter how prepared she thought she was for this moment, it still didn’t seem real.

  Anger swept over her, and her tears dried. Bile crept up her throat. She stood, staring at the carcass of a man that no longer held her father’s spirit. Her limbs went numb. She felt the blood rise from her chest to her temples as her mind raced. Her heart was pumping blood so rapidly that she could almost hear it over the sound of her family’s wails.

  “I need some air,” she said. Trying to strengthen her legs, she moved slowly at first until the numbness subsided. She walked out the front door and looked toward the moon. Samuel followed and they stood on the walkway looking at the stars above them.

  I’m a wretched daughter. Who doesn’t thank a parent for all they’ve done? Who lets them die without letting them know that she adored them? A horrible, nasty, selfish daughter. He raised me better than that.

  How could this have happened? How could a 60-year-old man die from colon cancer in this day and age? There are medicines. There are even cures! What could have been done to prevent this? He was fine just six months ago. He should have had more time.

  What’s going to happen to my mom now? She’ll be here all alone. Her soulmate, the only love she’s ever known—How will she get through this?

  Samuel reached out and grabbed Charlie’s hand.

  “Please don’t,” she said while clearing her throat. She could feel her eyes gloss as soon as he touched her. “If you touch me, I’ll start to cry again.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes. “Okay,” he said, pulling his hand away.

  What was this like for Dad? These past few months must have been much worse than he let on. Was he in pain? Did he suffer? I was too late. If there were things he wanted to say to me, I never came. I didn’t take twenty minutes out of my stupid selfish life to give a damn what he was going through. Caught up in Samuel. Caught up in work.

  Oh, Pops. She sniffed and felt the pressure of tears again. No. Stop crying. I need to make this up to him. What would he do right now? What would he do to help? What would he say?

  He would fix everyone a drink and do his best to keep Mom and Sabrina calm. So get your ass inside and make this right.

  Charlie opened the door and looked back to Samuel and he followed her inside. Karen and Sabrina had moved to the couch and Karen had her arms wrapped around her daughter, rocking her gently. Sabrina was still inconsolable. Charlie removed her coat and took in a deep and rocky breath. She went straight for the kitchen and put the tea kettle on.

  “Here, let me do that, Charlie. Go and join your family in the living room,” Samuel said.

  “No. Let me do this. I need to do something. Take the banana bread out of the fridge, will you? Oh, and the cheese. They need to eat.”

  Charlie and Samuel assembled a plate of sliced banana bread, crackers, and cheese. She also prepared four cups of tea and brought everything to the table.

  “I have some comfort food over here. Come and eat something. I made tea, too.” Charlie�
��s strength kicked in and she buried the last several minutes into the depths of her mind.

  With Bill silently resting in a hospital bed in the middle of the living room, everyone joined Charlie at the dining room table. She sat with her back toward him, making it easier to ignore the situation.

  *

  At ten o’clock, the morgue came to collect him, along with a pastor. A prayer was said and they pulled a sheet over his head. Sam and the other men wheeled him to the hearse and Charlie could hear a quick faint conversation between the men outside. She busied herself with cleaning the table and getting the coffee pot ready for the morning.

  *

  Charlie and Samuel wanted to stay the night—Charlie for her mother’s sake and Samuel for Charlie’s. She got undressed and struggled to move her body to the bed in her old room. Her mind was quiet and her legs were feeble, heavy and sluggish. It had been a very long evening filled with silence, everyone’s minds trying to find the right words to say.

  “Come here,” Samuel said with his arms stretched out to her.

  She climbed into bed and Samuel wrapped his arms around her tightly, spooning her. He buried his head in the base of her neck.

  “I’m here. Everything is going to be okay,” he said.

  She felt the tears begin to pool in her eyes. She fought them, with what little energy she had left. They slowly ran sideways toward her temples and she couldn’t stop them. Her father was gone. He’d never return to her; not for a goodbye, a hug, or a single “I love you.” His time had passed. No new memories would be made, and even the ones she had would eventually fade.

  She sniffed and Samuel pulled her closer and kissed her hair.

  I don’t have to be strong right now. I don’t have to be witty or charming. I don’t have to be the peacemaker or the wiser. I don’t have to be all the things I feel like I should be. I can just be. Be with my Samuel.

  She let her crippled spirit win over and began sobbing in Samuel’s arms.

  Part III

  Jesse

  Chapter One

  Floating in the ocean is supposed to be peaceful. Not today. If I pull my head under again, it might just take me this time. God, I wish it would. Here comes another wave. If I’m lucky, I won’t see tomorrow. I won’t have to live with the regret and painful nostalgia that comes with sleepless nights and immeasurable days. I can just float, forever, away from this town. Eventually something will kill me. The wave came down, slapping him in the face as his lungs took in an enormous amount of water. I can’t breathe. This is the end.

  Jesse woke with the image of a piece of driftwood floating away as he opened his eyes to the nightmare that was his reality.

  Eleven months after leaving Minnesota, nothing had changed. The recollected dreams—some new, some old—the anxiety and paranoia, and the depression haunted him everywhere. Always changing, in rapid cycles, it could take minutes or days to switch, without warning.

  As he looked around the room, his eyes went straight to the window, ignoring the unpacked boxes in the corner and his drum set that he had never assembled. There was still a smoky haze from the night before as a reminder to look beside him and make sure she was gone.

  Damn. She’s still here. I obviously didn’t make myself clear enough last night.

  Stretching her arms and arching her back freed the sheet that had been covering her naked body.

  “Good morning, gorgeous,” she said, yawning. His eyes shifted down to her dark nipples and he looked away.

  “Get out,” he said.

  She stopped mid-stretch. “Wow. Okay.” Whipping the sheet back and rolling her eyes, she rose and looked around for her clothes. As he laid there naked, Jess kept his focus on the overflowing ashtray on his bedside table. After picking up her scattered clothes from around the room, the girl began dressing herself.

  “Cool ink,” she said, trying to make small talk.

  He rolled his eyes and went to light a cigarette.

  “Where’d you get the frog?” she asked, tying the laces of her tennis shoes.

  “Why are you still here?” he said. He stood to get a clean pair of boxer briefs.

  “You’re just delightful,” she huffed. “Fine. I’m ready. You can take me back to my car, it’s parked at the restaurant,” she said, finally taking the hint.

  “Not my problem,” he said, pulling his briefs over his hips and running his hand through his hair.

  “You’re not even going to give me a ride!…oh, never mind. I’ll walk. Really, Jesse, it’s been fun. Dickhead,” she said, walking toward the door.

  Opening the door, she turned back to him. “Oh, and my name is Carly, not Charlie, asshole. Next time you take someone home, make sure you have her name right. It makes for an awkward fuck.”

  She slammed the door behind her, but Jess didn’t flinch. He put his cigarette out in the ashtray and picked up the mail resting on his table.

  His phone rang and he looked around the room, trying to find where he had left it. Walking toward his bed, he saw a light from his jeans pocket and picked them up to answer it.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Hi, Jess! It’s Lily! How are you doing today, Sunshine?”

  His scorn faded and his face softened. “Hey, Lil. I’m okay, how are you?”

  “You sound horrible, honey. Are you sure you’re alright? Have you been eating?”

  Jess looked down to his ribcage and swiped his hand across it. Where he once had definition in his abdomen, it was now more hollow and thinned than ever before.

  “Yeah, I should probably eat something.”

  “As soon as you hang up, I want you to go to the store and buy some groceries. Did you get the money I sent?”

  He walked back to the table, and picked up a letter with Lily’s handwriting on it. “Yeah, I got it right here. Thanks Lil, but I’m not gonna cash your check—”

  “Hush now. You need it more than I do and besides, I had a good week at the restaurant. So how’s the job search going out there?”

  He shrugged and exhaled. “It’s crap. I could get a job on one of the boats out here in May, but it’s March. I can’t wait that long for a paycheck.”

  He could hear Lily’s concern on the other end. “Why don’t you just come home? You can stay with me for a month or two until you find something.”

  “I don’t have any money to get there, Lil. A plane ticket is too expensive and I’m not calling my folks to send me money; I’m twenty-eight years old. Besides, even if my car could make it back to Minnesota, I’d have to leave all my furniture…shit, I’d have to leave almost everything I own in this shit-hole apartment.” He looked around, realizing there wasn’t much there he found sentimental, anyway. He glanced at the drums in the corner and paused with a thought.

  “I’ll think about it, okay? Just don’t worry about me. I’ll figure out something.”

  “I will worry—”

  “Don’t. Nothing to worry about. I’m fine. I gotta run now, but we’ll talk soon.”

  “Love you, Jess. Call me if you need anything.”

  “You too, Lil.”

  He hung up his phone and walked over to the boxes stacked in the corner. He paused to look around the room again. Glancing down at the phone still in his hand, he dialed and brought it to his ear.

  “Four-one-one, city and state, please?”

  “Rye, New Hampshire.”

  “What can I look up for you?”

  “Rick’s Pawn Shop on Main.”

  “Here’s that number for you.”

  Chapter Two

  Jesse strummed his fingertips on the glass counter and tried to stay patient as Rick ran the numbers.

  “The best I can do is fifteen hundred.”

  Jesse shook his head. “No way. This set is worth over four thousand.”

  “Sorry, kid. It might have been worth that much ten years ago, but I gotta consider how many people are gonna come to this town to buy it, too. It’ll probably sit here for a few years before
I even get a bite.”

  Jess scratched the back of his head and folded his arms across his chest. He nodded his head and turned toward the door. “Thanks anyway.”

  “Okay, fine! I can do eighteen hundred.”

  Jesse stopped. “Two thousand?” he said, turning around.

  “Fine. Fine. Two thousand. Final offer.”

  Jess rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back within a week if I’m interested.”

  He walked out of the store and straight into the bar across the street.

  *

  Pulling up a stool, he tapped on the counter twice. The bartender knew Jesse’s sign for a highball of Jameson.

  “Back so soon? Didn’t think I’d see you so early in the day after your birthday celebration last night,” the bartender said, placing the drink on a coaster in front of Jesse.

  Slamming it back, Jesse closed his eyes as he shook off the burn. “It wasn’t my birthday. Give me another, will ya Kenny?”

  Kenny nodded and set the bottle next to the empty glass.

  “You sure you want to do this today, Jesse?”

  “Oh, I’m positive,” he said, trying to keep the tremors at bay while he poured himself another glass.

  “Man, why are you still in this town? There ain’t nothin’ here for you anymore. No jobs until the spring. You’ve burned every bridge with every woman in town, and you ain’t gettin’ any younger,” Kenny said, as gently as he could.

  Jesse slammed the glass back to swallow and poured himself another, not responding to the bartender’s words.

  Wincing at what he imagined the whiskey tasted like, Kenny tried again. “Look, I’d give you a job myself if I thought you could handle it. But you’ve gotten into too many fights around here. You aren’t everyone’s favorite in this town—”

  “You think I give a shit? You think I care what anyone in this armpit of a town thinks of me? Wrong, Kenny. Besides, it’s not like this is new for me. I’m hated everywhere I go. So, just keep pouring your whiskey and refilling your nuts, and leave the thinking to me.”

  Jesse took one more shot and tossed the empty glass at Kenny, who caught it and glared.