Sloth

by James, Ella

  “I died without you!” she roars. “I died for twenty-four days!” Rising to her knees, she shoves me hard.

  I almost fall over, because I’m shaking. I feel sick with shame. Regret.

  “Cleo...come here and let me touch you.” I hold my arms out. She backs away, and I reach my hand out to her. “Cleo… What happened? Are you okay?” She’s so fucking thin. She looks worse than I do.

  “I’m not okay. My heart is sick!” She fumbles to her feet and grips the counter. “I kept giving blood for you, for your transfusions. We’re a blood match now, I thought you might need…” She grabs hold of my refrigerator door and sobs. I scoop her up again. How good it feels. I bring her to my bed.

  The room looks different. All the lights outside the windows, brighter. Her blood buzzes in my veins.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Cleo

  Kellan. I hold him, claw at him. Wrap myself around him. “I’m so sorry. I missed you. You smell good.” I kiss him between his words. He kisses me. Our passion starts out slow but builds. I grope his cock, his rock-hard cock. His hand delves into my pants.

  He shoves some papers off the bed. His fingers wriggle in my pussy. He’s crawling down my legs and leaning down to lick me... Tonguing me gently, then whipping me.

  I come, and then he turns me over and pushes into me.

  I’m so full. He’s so thick. I’m wet. My clit throbs.

  “Kellan!”

  We come at the same time. He jets into me. He sags against me, and the weight of his body, his familiar feel and smell, make me feel like I’m about to cry again.

  He eases me down on the bed, belly first, and gets up. He returns with a warm, wet towel. He cleans me tenderly. I sanitize my hands. He puts more in them and threads his fingers through mine.

  After that we turn to face each other. Kellan pulls me into his arms. He pushes his face against my neck. I can feel him shaking, causing tenderness to roar through me. So many memories: us in bed.

  I squeeze him gently. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “I’m fucking good.” I can hear the tears in his voice.

  “Oh, my baby…” His body shakes. I hold him tightly in the dark, with the city winking all around us. I cry, too.

  I can’t stop running my hands over him. He can’t stop doing the same. I run my hands all over his body. I even stroke the central line; it’s so familiar, like a friend.

  I kiss his throat. I taste his salty skin.

  His lips are on my temple. His mouth by my ear. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Cleo baby. I didn’t know what to do...” His voice cracks. “I kept thinking of you there and me sedated, on the vent, if something happened… Whitney. On that day.” I feel him shudder. “I thought you would go home. Why didn’t you just go home?” His voice breaks. He draws me up against his chest.

  “I told you I would never leave. I would sit there every day and watch for body bags going by. If I didn’t see one, I had hope.”

  “Christ.” Another shudder and some little moaning sound. “I’m so fucking sorry. So, so sorry.” His lips are everywhere. My face and hair… He wraps me tight against him. “I did everything wrong.”

  “You did what you thought was best. I talked to Arethea the other day... she told me you were on the ventilator for six days and the first two were pretty touch and go. I’m sorry, baby.” I stroke his face as hot tears spill down mine. “I’m sorry you were by yourself.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Arethea said Willard was bullshitting us that day you got the fever. She said you were lucky to pull through.”

  His forehead pushes against my fingers. “I kept seeing you. On the surface of the water. All your hair. I tried to swim to you.”

  I curl up against him.

  We talk all night, and make love two more times. We fall asleep together, tangled and soul-weary.

  The next morning I see all of him in the light. His hair. His pretty limbs. His chest and shoulders, and his perfect Kellan face. He’s beautiful. So fucking perfect. And he’s mine.

  “How are you? How do you feel?” I kiss his abs.

  He guides my hand between his legs.

  “No…really,” I press.

  He pulls me against him, his chin rubbing my hair. “I have a lot of joint pain sometimes. My lungs aren’t 100 percent. I have a hard time with weird shit, like Pig Latin. And remembering everything at the store without a list. Even the online store.” He gives a little laugh. “But I still know my antiderivatives, and I know every origami sparrow you hung on the ceiling. I would make the ICU nurses read them to me.”

  “You missed me?” Tears shimmer in my eyes as I look at his face.

  “I missed you every day, and every night. When I got moved back to our room... I had a bad time. I struggled about calling you, but I didn’t think it was fair to jerk you around. I knew if I got close to death again, I would want you to go again. And then one time I thought I was... My heart did something. Sort of like a hiccup from the chemo. And I wanted you. Arethea climbed in bed with me. Hugged me. I would have been embarrassed as fuck if I wasn’t so fucked up from missing you. But that was my last night inpatient. I came here, and I just…couldn’t call. I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

  I pinch his arm. “How could you say that?! You said you would take me all around New York. Kellan—I would take your call from anywhere. You know I can’t leave again. I can’t. I won’t. If you want me gone, you have to tell me now.” My voice cracks.

  He lays his cheek against my cheek, kisses my temple. “It won’t be normal—ever. I’m still taking sixteen pills a day. You can still trace both of my hip bones... I can’t run for more than fifteen minutes. Still can’t breathe enough.”

  “Kellan, please. I love you so much. I would want you with no legs and arms.”

  “Let’s not wish for that.” He strokes my cheek. “I love you too.”

  “Stay with me? Forever. You have to. You really have to.”

  He smiles a little, then it slips away. His face is gravely serious. Then he laughs.

  “Cleo…”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Kellan

  i take her hand and lead her to the living room couch. She sits on the edge of it, and I struggle not to kneel in front of her. I laugh again.

  “I’ve got something to show you.” I sit beside her on the couch and pull her up against me. My hands stroke her belly through her shirt. “The only catch is,” I whisper against her throat, “you read the instructions. And follow them.”

  She turns to look at me with wide eyes. “What is it?” She pets my short hair. I rub my palm over hers.

  “Nice haircut by the way.” I kiss her jaw. “Trendy.”

  “Kellan…” She pushes at me. “I don’t like suspense. Or surprises. Remember?”

  I get a good laugh out of that before I open the trunk-style coffee table just in front of us and close my hand around the sparrow.

  I turn to her and open my palm. “I found this. Recently. I didn’t unfold it because…” I inhale, and try to slow my racing pulse. “I didn’t want to touch something you did.” I grin, then laugh. So not fucking smooth. Cleo blinks. With her hair so short, her eyes look luminous.

  I hold the sparrow out to her.

  “Do you want to open it and read it to me?” I shift onto the floor, sitting cross-legged, so I am looking up at her.

  She curls her fingers loosely around the sparrow, and I clench my jaw. I fake a smile. I can feel the blood drain from my face as she looks down at it. I wrap my arms around her legs and press my cheek against her shins.

  I shut my eyes and wait for it to fall out in her hand…the ring. I can feel her muscles tighten when it does.

  I’m not sure I can handle looking at her face, so I roll the words I wrote inside the sparrow back through my head. I read it many times before I folded it.

  Dear Cleo,

  It can be anything you want it to be. I would love to make you my wif
e—but I understand you may not want such a formal commitment so soon after all that’s happened. No one would understand that feeling more than me. If that’s the case, wear it on any finger. It was my mother’s mother’s wedding ring. It’s not a blood diamond, so don’t worry about that. It’s two carats with one small imperfection near the top left prong, but I’m learning imperfections don’t bother my selfless, strong, and loving friend, lover, and donor. You are everything to me. I love you with every cell I have, and I will always love you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for saving my life and my heart. Both are yours. Everything I have is yours.

  Kellan

  She pounces on me and I feel her arms lock down around me. “Kellan!” Her fist hits my shoulder. “That’s the worst proposal ever!” I open my eyes in time to see her thrust the ring at me. “What finger do you want to put it on, you lunatic?”

  She holds her hand out, all the fingers shaking.

  I blink as my heart pounds. I look into her eyes, so she can see the feeling in mine. Because I mean it when I tell her, “Any finger.”

  She throws her arms around me, squealing as she bounces. “Please make me the crazy woman who waited in the hospital every day for almost a month for her husband.”

  I smile down at her and blink fast as I take her left hand. My eyes meet hers again. “Any finger is okay,” I rasp. “Would be an honor.”

  She lets out a sweet sob. “Kellan!”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, then look into her face and slide the ring on the only finger she’s got held out.

  “Will you marry me?” My voice trembles.

  She’s already crying. “Yes! Oh, yes! I missed you so much…Kellan, I was going crazy. This is crazy…I know, but I don’t care. I don’t care…”

  “No more going crazy.” I scoop her up into my arms.

  I carry her to the bedroom and make love to her as we look down over New York.

  After that, we lie beside each other, face to face. Our hands roam each other. Cleo grins at her new ring.

  “I’m hungry,” she murmurs.

  I stroke her neck. “You need to eat. What do you want? I’ll go get you something.”

  “That’s a risk. No germ risks. Let’s order delivery.”

  I smile. “They don’t deliver here. Restaurants stop at the fifteenth floor. Chinese? There’s a place on the sixth floor. Manning liked it when he came.”

  “Mmmm. Chinese.”

  I kiss her hair. “I’ll go.” Her mouth opens. I kiss it shut. “No worrying. I have my own mask and gloves.” I kiss her hair again. She smells so fucking good, I can’t help it. “You want a bath while I’m gone? Get in there and relax?”

  She shuts her eyes and pulls me to her. “Kellan—I love you. Thank you for the ring. I realized when I couldn’t see you that I need you. To live life. And yes, I’d love a bath.”

  “I’d love to give you a bath. And help you live life. If you want that.”

  “I want that.” She kisses me, and I go with it. I believe her. Cleo loves me. She wants me, and I want her.

  I carry her into the bathroom and grin at the dance she does when she sees how huge the tub is here.

  “I’m filling it up to my nose,” she tells me.

  I take her left hand. Kiss the ring. She sinks into the steaming water.

  “I won’t be long,” I tell her. I slip into a CC t-shirt and then into my jeans.

  “Mmm, mmm, those jeans are tight in all the right places. I might have to get out of this water and come check that out.”

  I wink. “I put a text order in for the food, so let me go get it and then…” I stretch my arms out. “All yours.”

  She sighs. “Always?”

  “Always.”

  I leave Cleo beaming in the tub, moving her hand around so she can see the light glint on her ring.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Kellan

  I ride the elevator nearest to my flat—the one that gets the least traffic. With new gloves on my hands, I press the “6” button and lean my shoulder against the mirrored wall.

  I can’t help the little smile I give myself in the mirror. For just a second, I swear I see dimples.

  Thank you, Ly.

  I stand stone still, feeling…warm. Just really fucking warm and…glad. That things turned out this way. I inhale deeply. Fuck, I’m lucky. I love her so much. It was crazy, giving her that ring. I did it recklessly—because I love her. I can’t believe she said “yes.”

  I step out of the elevator on the sixth floor still grinning like a fool and get a kick out of going into the restaurant. As always, people give me looks, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve got my fucking woman in the bath tub with a diamond on her finger.

  God, it’s good. I close my eyes and fire a prayer off to somewhere. Thank you.

  I get Cleo’s little brown bag and hand my card to the woman at the counter. She hands me my receipt, which echoes my thoughts: THANK YOU. I walk to the elevator slowly, taking careful breaths because sometimes my lungs try to close up a little.

  Right now, my chest feels tight. Excitement, I guess.

  I press the “up” arrow and tap my foot as I hold the warm bag against my thigh. I can’t fucking wait to get back up there to her.

  I laugh. Did that really happen?

  Yeah. It fucking happened.

  I ball my hand into a fist and press it to my aching chest. I step into the elevator hearing birds caw…smelling salt water. I’ll buy her a cottage by the sea. I want kids out there, playing on the sand. I think of Cleo at an easel, smiling as she paints. The feeling of my mother knots my chest up. My eyes blur a little.

  I lean against the elevator wall and rub just under my throat. I grip the rail with my gloved hand.

  The elevator lifts me. The door opens, and I walk out.

  My chest feels…tight and heavy. Cleo. That’s my first thought. Needing her. My cheeks and chest flush. My shoulder aches. I blink down at the hardwood, stunned by the crushing pressure on my chest. I dropped Cleo’s food.

  Fuck.

  Can’t breathe. I grasp at the hall wall. Can’t see. I stagger toward my door.

  Cleo!

  My heart lights up like a fireball, spreading all through me.

  I can’t breathe without her.

  Guess I really can’t…

  Epilogue

  August 7, 2020

  October 19, 2014

  Dear Cleo,

  The last six weeks have been the best ones of my life. Meeting you…knowing you—it’s the answer to the question “why,” which I have asked so many times.

  I flew from Emory to Memorial SK because of you. Just you. I never told you, because I didn’t want you to feel burdened or obligated. Do you remember in the ambulance that night, the way you rubbed my hand? You kissed my neck and pulled my hair, you did everything you could to keep me awake, just like the EMTs wanted. I remember only pieces of this—individual frames in a longer, blurry film—but in one of them, I can hear you telling them, “You have to fix him. I love him.”

  I knew you really thought they could fix me, because you never said those words to me. You probably figured I was semi-conscious and I would remember. I think maybe you didn’t want to burden or obligate me. You didn’t know you had already. Meeting “Sloth” in person changed me before I even spoke to you. It was a lie: I watched you just for business. I watched you, stalked you, because my heart was sore and tired, and looking at you made me warm down to my soul.

  So many times, you warmed me. What I wanted to say that night in the elevator was that when I got here in the ambulance, I had only one foot in. Despite the painkillers they had me on, I realized I was back at Memorial SK and I was fucking scared. I couldn’t breathe. They gave me oxygen. Some Ativan. I started saying I wanted to be discharged. Arethea found me and she later said I cried for you. She told me she would try to find you.

  I was so lost that night. You’ve been here now, you know why. I told myself if you reached out to me in any way—
a text, a call, even a card—that I would do another transplant. I wanted you so much. There were no odds. Just you.

  I don’t know how to tell you…when you came. You showed up in my room. I remember you wanted me to get in bed with you. Cleo… you killed all my pain in just that moment. Every time I got scared that you would go, you showed me you were made of iron.

  That’s how I knew, when Willard told me about the CMV, that if it gets bad, I will have to shelter you myself. If you’re reading this, that’s probably what happened. They say this shit is hard to beat. I hope you never see this letter. I’ll try hard, I fucking swear.

  But I want to know— that if I have no choice— if I send you away so you don’t have to watch me die and walk out of the ICU alone— I want to know you have no doubts about my feelings.

  I want to marry you. Do everything with you. Travel the world. Have children. Watch them grow. If I can, I will. I swear. (Unless you don’t want that).

  But if it doesn’t go that way…

  I wanted to leave instructions for you—wishes for the one I love.

  Okay, Sloth. Here I go…

  Don’t guard your heart. I understand you’ll want to. Keep it open. You’re so strong. By far the strongest person I’ve ever known. Don’t isolate yourself.

  Actively seek love. Anyone could love you, Cleo baby. Go on lots of dates. Blind dates. Match.com dates. Please find someone to hold you while I’m gone. Nothing in this universe would please me more.

  Have lots of children. (I know you want to). Millions of years of evolution compel me to offer you my banked sperm, but consider having children with someone you love, who’s also living. If I have angel vision, I would love to see your pizza-loving Cleo spawn.