by Lynn Jaxon
“Em, I’m not angry with you. I am just lost. You’re still here, and I feel like I have already lost you. You’re the fighter. My little red-headed spitfire. Where did she go?”
Just hearing him say this makes me even sadder for him. “She is here, and she is going to fight to make what little time we have left, the best.”
“The boys need you, Em. You! They need their mom to be there when they graduate, marry the love of their life, and have their first child. Think of all the grands we planned on spoiling rotten. Please don’t give up, Em. I am begging you.” He drops his head to the bed in defeat.
Running my fingers through his hair, I try to reassure him. “I am not giving up, Benson. I am being realistic and facing what’s in front of me. This is our reality. I hate it. I don’t ever want to have to say goodbye to you and the boys. You’re my world.”
We sit together silently just holding each other for what seems like ages. I startle when Benson speaks.
“I’m sorry, Em. I don’t want to make this harder on you. I am a selfish man, making this about me. What I want. What I am losing. The truth is, we both lose and it’s not fair.”
Benson can tell I am getting tired, so he just holds me in his arms on the bed, and I fall asleep.
I am sitting here looking at Benson and thinking about my boys. My sweet, sweet boys. Making that call to the boys a couple of days ago was the hardest call we have ever had to make. Benson held it together when he told them what happened. They were understandably upset that I hadn’t told them about my headaches and the biopsy. We didn’t tell them over the phone about the diagnosis. Mitch didn’t say much, but I could tell that Henry knew there was more to the story. He has always been my perceptive one. It was hard to ever get anything past him. When Benson put me on the phone, Henry immediately remembered the headache I was fighting the last time he was home for the weekend. I was as upbeat as I could be and told them we would see them in a few days. They only have one more final this week and will be done for the next six weeks. We will tell them everything when they get here this weekend. I hope they will forgive me for not telling them sooner.
Dr. Banks comes in the room and lets me know that I can go home tomorrow. These past two days have been the longest of my life. Sitting in a hospital bed sucks. Especially when all there is to do is think about why I’m here in the first place. He wants me to come to his office on Friday to let him know my final decision on treatment. Chemotherapy or no chemotherapy. I don’t know why, I already told him I was not getting the chemotherapy or radiation. Let’s not beat a dead horse. Boy, I am just full of morbid thoughts. I better keep those to myself. Benson would not be amused at all. He will think I’m making light of the situation. Now I’ve made myself a situation. Shit, shit, shit!! Why?
Benson excuses himself and follows Dr. Banks out into the hallway. I know where this is going. He is going to try and team up with Dr. Banks to convince me to change my mind and get the chemotherapy, but that is not going to happen.
Chapter Seven
Benson
“Dr. Banks, can you hold up for a second, please? I would like to talk to you for a minute.” I am dreading hearing the ugly truth the doctor is going to reiterate. It’s not my decision, it’s Em’s, but maybe, just maybe, he will help me make her see reason.
“Sure, I have some time. Do you want to go down to the cafeteria and grab a coffee?”
“That would be good. Thanks.”
Surprisingly the cafeteria was not crowded, and we found a table in the back where no one else was sitting. I hate hospital anything, so I just sit and wait for Dr. Banks to get his coffee and whatever else he is going to get.
Dr, Banks sits down with his coffee and danish and looks at me with compassion. “What is it you would like to ask me?”
I feel so angry and defeated right now, and I don’t want to come off as an ass. How can I let this happen to her? I can’t let her give up. I am supposed to protect her, but my hands are tied. I pick at the invisible lint on my jeans and say, “I just want to know why you aren’t going to try and remove the tumor or at the very least insist that Em get chemo and radiation.” Once the words are out of my mouth, I know my tone was angrier and more accusatory than it should be. He is only doing his job.
“Benson, I know you’re angry and frustrated. Believe me, I am too. It kills me when my hands are tied, and there is nothing I can do to change the outcome for my patient. I have been consulting with some of my colleagues, showing them her scans to see if there is something that can be done. Sadly, each and every one of them have concurred that surgery is not an option. This is an aggressive tumor. I have been doing this for a lot of years, and it is the worst one I have seen, especially in a woman of her age.” Dr. Banks sighs and continues, “Make the best of the time you have left together. She needs you to be her rock.” He quickly looks away to hide his emotions, as well.
With that, he excuses himself to go to his next patient, and I sit here just as lost and angry as I was before. I have to get my shit together before I go back up to Em. I know this. I stop by the flower/gift shop and see pink gerbera daisies in the large refrigerated case. I have them wrap up a bouquet, and I head back up to her room. These flowers always bring a smile to her face. I think back to when we met at the ripe old age of fourteen. Emily was sitting on the swing in the park with her wild auburn hair flowing behind her. She was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. I had watched her from afar all year long, but being a shy, fourteen-year-old boy, I hadn’t said anything to her. She had moved here from a few towns over this year. She was popular with everyone. She was loved by the teachers and other students in our Junior High School. She was always smiling and had something nice to say to everyone she met. I prepared myself to go and say something to her. I wanted, no, I needed to know this girl. Just to the left of the park entrance was a beautiful flower garden. I decided to go and pick her the most beautiful flower I could find. There were butterflies in my stomach, and I had to give myself a pep talk as I walked toward her swing. What is this? I’m no pussy. I can do this. I pulled the pink gerbera daisy out from behind my back and said, “A beautiful flower, for a beautiful girl. Hi, I’m Benson, and I just have to know you.” She looked up at me with her big green eyes and smiled the brightest smile I’d ever seen. “Hi, Benson. Call me Em. Thank you for the flower. Gerbera daisies are my absolute favorite.” From that moment on, we were inseparable. I break out of my memory and crash back to reality as I push the button to the third floor, where my entire world is waiting.
Just like all those years ago, Em’s face lights up when she sees the flowers. I am glad I’m able to at least give her a moment of joy and a smile on her face. My chest aches when I think about the fact that these moments are few and far between. I live to see that smile. How am I ever going to be able to do this without her?
“Benson, I absolutely love them. Will you put them on the table by the bed so I can see them better? I’m surprised there are any pink gerbera daisies left with as many as you have bought me over the years. You’re too good to me. All my good memories come with pink gerbera daisies. The day we officially met, our one-year dating anniversary, my birthday, and every anniversary and birthday since. Not to mention our wedding and the birth of our beautiful boys. These flowers are powerful. Don’t ever forget the power of the daisy and our love!”
A pain lances my heart, but I try not to let it show. I wonder how many more times I will be able to bring her flowers. I decide right then and there to have the florist deliver a vase of them to the house every week. These won't necessarily be good memories, but they will remind her of all the good times and how much I love her.
“Is there anything you want to watch on TV? This place is so boring. I don’t know how my patients do it.”
“Let’s see if we can find a movie. It’s getting close to Christmas, so I’m sure there will be something on. Cable TV at its finest.”
Em pipes in, “I hope A Christmas Story is on. It is
my all-time favorite. I love the look on the mom’s face when the dad pulls out that leg lamp he won and puts it in the living room in front of the window where all the neighbors can see. That is classic. I think I love it so much because it is so something my father would have done.”
“You know that Elf is my favorite, but I love this one, too. My favorite part of this movie is when the little brother is running down the street all bundled in his snow gear and falls to the ground. Or, even better is when his tongue gets stuck to the pole. But let’s not forget ‘You’ll shoot your eye out,’” we say in unison.
“Speaking of bundled, do you remember that time we took the boys sledding? They looked so cute. Like giant blueberries, because all we could find were bright blue snowsuits. They hate it when we pull those pictures out. I just might blow one up to put on the mantle this year. That is sure to give everyone a big laugh.”
I can see Em’s eyes glisten with tears as she thinks about the boys. “Yes, I remember that like it was yesterday. What you forgot to mention was that you made me wear one of those hideous snowsuits too. How is it that you found a pretty pink one for you?”
“I’ll never tell, but I don’t think pink was or is your color, so you should thank me. You would have looked like a giant bottle of Pepto Bismol in the pink one.”
We spend the evening watching Christmas movies, eating horrible hospital food and pretending that everything is going to be okay. Tomorrow, we will go home, and our new reality will begin.
Chapter Eight
Emily
Missy comes into my room with the discharge instructions and reminds me to go to my appointment tomorrow at Dr. Bank’s office at one o’clock in the afternoon. The boy’s plane is arriving at four o’clock, so that should give us plenty of time to make the appointment and meet them at the airport. By some miracle, it isn’t snowing, so there shouldn’t be any weather delays. I can’t wait to see my babies. I know they are grown men, but they will always be my little boys.
They made me ride this stupid wheelchair down to the lobby where Benson had pulled his truck up to the doors. He insisted on picking me up and putting me in the passenger seat. You should have heard all the women swoon, ooh and ahh, when he picked me up. It was a real Kodak moment. I roll my eyes. But, seriously, Benson makes everything a Kodak moment. He is almost too good to be true. Even in Jr. High and High School he was a man among boys in the way he acted and treated me. Benson turns on the radio and ‘90’s Country’ by Walker Hays comes on the radio. That song is a blast from the past because all the songs he is singing about we listened to at the time. I look over at Benson, and he smiles.
“I guess you’re the queen of my double wide trailer, or should I say our perfect neighborhood home.”
“Big house, or trailer, I would have been happy either way. Our first place was that tiny one-bedroom apartment, and I felt like a queen.”
Benson laughs and says, “Yeah, you were the queen of the critters in that place. It still creeps me out remembering the bugs. You slept with that industrial size bottle of bug spray right next to the bed. I can still taste what you sprayed in my face when you saw a big spider on my chest. You couldn’t aim worth a shit.”
“Hey, I didn’t want it to crawl in your mouth. I would never have been able to kiss you again.”
“That would never do. As a matter of fact, I need to taste your lips on me now before I pull out of this parking lot.”
He tugs me into his firm body and kisses me with so much love my heart might burst. I can’t help but run my hands up his hard chest and through his sexy beard. My heart skips a beat for him. All too soon our kiss is interrupted by honking from an old man in a Dodge Dart behind us. How is that thing even still running?
Benson pulls out, and we drive home in silence holding each other’s hands and listening to the radio.
It seems like forever since I’ve been home. Benson helps me out of the truck, but I insist on walking into the house. It’s only a few steps from the inside of the garage to the door to the kitchen. The cinnamon rolls that he didn’t finish are still sitting on the table along with the half-empty coffee cup. I want to busy myself cleaning, but Benson insists I sit down, and he will clean it up. This isn’t anything new. Like I said, he treats me like a queen. We are a team. We both work, so we both do the cleaning. I do most of the cooking because he says it tastes better. He has become the master of crock pot cooking though. When I pull a double shift, he will throw together a meal in the crockpot before he goes to the gym. When he gets off work, he comes home, makes us both a plate and brings me dinner at the hospital. I’m the envy of every woman on my floor. They think I don’t hear them when they talk about how hot my husband is. He is forty-three years old and has the twenty-year-old women panting. I love to tease him about it. He gets embarrassed and doesn’t like having the attention. I tell him then he shouldn’t own a gym and have a body like a Greek god. It gives me peace to know that he will have no problem finding someone after I am gone. He is too young to live his life alone.
After picking up, Benson fixes us a light lunch of tuna salad sandwiches and baked lays. I tease him because he eats so much tuna. I tell him he just wants to smell like pussy. Before I can say it today, Benson beats me to the punch saying, “Why do people always compare tuna to pussy? They must not be getting the same kind of pussy that I have, because you smell divine. Not like some old rotten fish.”
I’m glad we can joke like this because it helps lift some of the heavy that is sitting on my chest.
I turn on some music while Benson runs me a bubble bath with my favorite lavender and vanilla scent. I ask him to join me. I need his closeness. After testing the water temperature to make sure it’s not going to scald us, Benson climbs in and offers me his hand. We slide down in the deep soaker tub, my one request when we built this house. I didn’t want a jetted tub, I wanted a soaker tub big enough for two. And that is exactly what I got. Benson grasps my loofa sponge and dips it into the water before running it over my shoulders and down my back. He works his way up my back and then down my arms, not missing one speck of my body. His touch lights my body on fire. I need to feel him on me and in me. I don’t know how many more times we will be able to do this. My head isn’t hurting. I feel surprisingly good to have been through brain surgery less than a week ago. When he starts on my legs and works his way up to my center, my breathing grows heavy. “I need more,” I say. “Make love to me.” I can feel Benson’s need long and hard beneath me. He needs me too.
Benson looks torn. He looks at me with lust, longing, and fear in his beautiful blue eyes. “We can’t. I might hurt you. It’s only been a few days since your surgery. You know I want you more than anything.”
“You’re not going to hurt me. I’m not made of glass. I need this more than you could ever know. Please, baby. Make me feel good.”
I know he can no longer fight it when he raises the hair off the back of my neck and begins to kiss, lick, suck and nibble in the most delicious ways. I am covered in goosebumps, and my body is on fire. “More,” I pant.
Benson brings his hands around to my large aching breasts that were just made for his hands. He squeezes hard as he bites my shoulder, then gently turns me around to face him, his large cock underneath me. He takes one breast into his mouth while squeezing and tweaking the other nipple between his fingers. I moan a wanton sound that echoes off the bathroom walls. I can feel an orgasm building without even being touched down there. It’s like our bodies beat in a rhythm and he knows. He reaches down, grasping my ass in his hands, picking me up and seating me on his cock that was made just for me. I explode around him the minute we are joined. I can feel him holding back for fear that he will hurt me. He pushes up in a maddeningly slow pace until he can take it no more and he releases inside me. As he comes, he calls out how much he loves me, how beautiful I am and then tears roll down his face. Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” is playing in the background and I, too, lose my battle to hold in my emotions. We embra
ce and comfort each other until the bath turns cold, and we can take it no more.
We are both physically and emotionally exhausted. Benson needs to go and check on things at work, but he doesn’t want to leave me home alone. I assure him that I will be fine. I told him I need to call Marley and let her know what is going on. I need her to be there for the boys. She is like a second mother to them. Benson tries to argue, but I convince him to go for just an hour or so. It will be good for him. I promise to call if I feel even the slightest headache coming on. Reluctantly, Benson kisses me on the head, gets dressed, and then goes to work for a little while.
Marley picks up the phone after the fourth ring, just before I hang up. She is breathing hard. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“I just finished running eight miles. I am determined to run a half marathon this coming year.”
“You and Benson make my body hurt just thinking about all the exercising you do.” They are both borderline obsessed with exercise. But it sure looks good on my husband so I won’t complain.
I go quiet as I think about how much alike they are.
“Em, are you still there?”
“Sorry, my mind just wandered off into space.”
Marley laughs and says, “That is no surprise there. Your mind was always wandering off on me when we were in nursing school. How did you even retain the information?” She laughs sweetly. “What’s up? I haven’t heard from you since I had dinner with the boys last month.”
How do I tell her this? Do I just blurt it out? This is so hard. I stutter out before I can get all my thoughts together, “I-I-I-I’m dying, Marley. I have an inoperable glioblastoma.” Silence on the other end of the phone and then a loud bang. I hear shuffling in the background.