Thorns Before Roses

by Hanna Ruthie

  “Well,” she continues. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

  I nod my head, encouraging her. “Go ahead.”

  “My sister, she’s really strong. She’s been through a lot. I’m sure you know.”

  I nod my head again, agreeing with her.

  “She has this great line she always says to me. She says ‘We’re here to pick the flowers, not the weeds’. I just love that. It’s so… Josie, you know? So optimistic and bright.”

  I chuckle a little. “Yeah it is,” I agree.

  Cammy nods and looks down at her frail hands. “I’ve been afraid, for some time now, about leaving her. Because after Mom was gone, she needed me. And she’s going to need someone after I’m gone too. And God knows I don’t want to leave her with Dad.”

  She holds her hand out for mine. It’s a little awkward but I take it. This is my girl’s sister after all, and the least I can do is give her what she wants. Especially now, as she’s talking about being gone.

  “The more she talks about you, the more… relieved I am. That she has you. For support or comfort or whatever you want to call it.”

  She pats my hand. “I know that’s a lot of responsibility. A lot of weight for you to carry. But I really think that you’re the right person to carry it.”

  She squeezes my hand and then releases it. I pull it off the bed slowly.

  “I feel like… like I can go in peace now. Because she’s in good hands, capable hands.”

  She looks at me for a moment, clearing her throat. “Matthew, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” I reply, my voice a lot weaker than I meant for it to be.

  Cammy brushes her hands over her hospital sheets.

  “Do you love her?” She asks, looking up at me.

  Slowly, cautiously, carefully, I nod.

  “Does she know?”

  I nod my head again. “I think she knows. I haven’t told her but… I think she knows.”

  Cammy looks at the door, nodding her head slowly. “Good, that’s… that’s good.”

  She keeps her eyes on the door and I scoot my chair back. “You want me to grab her?” I ask.

  She looks back at me and laughs nervously. “Yeah that’d be great. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m selfish with my time. I like to spend as much of it as I can with her.”

  “Of course,” I reply quietly, standing from the chair. “It was great talking to you.”

  “No it was my pleasure,” she responds, smiling. “And… thank you. For… I can go in peace now. That’s due to you.”

  I shove my hands into my jean pockets, unsure of what to say.

  “I won’t keep her for long,” she says. “The nurses will put me to sleep in about a half hour.”

  “Alright,” I reply, heading to the door.

  My hand just touches the handle when she keeps me in place.

  “Oh and Matthew?”

  I turn my head to look at her. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t wait too long to tell her, okay?”

  I swallow nervously. “I won’t,” I return, just loud enough for her to hear me.

  I push on the door handle, heading back out of the room. Josie is sitting right in front of the door, her leg bouncing with nerves, waiting anxiously.

  “She’s all yours,” I say.

  Josie nods, standing up. “We can leave in thirty. She has to sleep then.”

  “Yeah she… she told me. I’ll go hang out in the lobby. And then I’ll get the car started.”

  “Okay,” she replies.

  I step out of the way and watch her as she enters the room, shutting the door softly behind her. I’m not sure I know what to make of the exchange I just had with her sister. I hardly said anything. Why didn’t I say anything? Didn’t I have things I wanted to say to her? I shake my head to clear my thoughts and head out to the lobby, taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs. I sit there for awhile, spacing out, my mind wandering as my eyes glide over to the news on the small television in the upper corner of the lobby. Straight across from me, a plastic shelf on the wall holds some fifty brochures. I stand up and wander over to them, looking at them. There are brochures of every kind. How to eat healthier, how to stop smoking… how to deal with grief. I pick up that last one and flip through it. Then I shove it in my back pocket, looking back at the shelf. By the time the thirty minutes is almost up, I have a small stack of brochures stuffed in my back pocket. Right before I leave to get the truck started, I pick up a card on the wall. One Julia Stewart. Grief counselor. I shove it in my pocket with the rest and hurry out to the truck. I start the engine and shove all the brochures in the glove compartment. I won’t give them to Josie now, but maybe one day. If what she thinks will happen happens… then she may want them.

  * * *

  On the way back to Josie’s apartment, she’s staring at her phone. When we pull up at a red light, I can see her screen turn black.

  “Shoot,” she says. “Out of charge.”

  “Do you need a phone charger? I have one in the glove compartment,” I offer.

  Josie nods, opening up the glove compartment. The charger is in there… but it’s underneath the brochures. Fuck! The brochures! I pray to God that Josie doesn’t pick them up. But it’s too late. She’s seen them. She pulls them out of the glove compartment, looking down at them.

  “What are these?” Josie asks, flipping through the brochures.

  “Oh I saw those at the hospital. I thought maybe you could keep them around? They’re support groups and stuff.”

  “Support groups?”

  I nod my head. “Yeah, like in Fight Club, remember?” I make the reference to lighten the mood, but somehow it just pushes her away further. I notice her grip tighten on the papers in her hands.

  “What kind of support groups?” She asks.

  I swallow nervously. “They’re for family members of those lost to cancer.”

  A blanket of tension fills the car and my grip on the steering wheel tightens. “I didn’t plan on giving them to you right now. Just… later…”

  Later?! Shut up fucker!

  “If you needed them,” I add.

  Oh my God, I can’t control my fucking mouth. It’s word vomit. I can’t read a single emotion on Josie’s face. She’s silent, her face blank, her eyes empty. She flips through the brochures and I curse inwardly when the card slips out. It falls into Josie’s lap and she picks it up, holding it between her dainty fingers. Her eyes travel over the name on the card. Julia Stewart. My stomach is twisting. I think I’m going to be sick.

  “Who is this?” Josie asks, flipping the card over.

  The address of her business and the description of what she does is there. Josie’s eyes travel over the words over and over again. She looks over at me. I swallow loudly, looking straight ahead. I’m almost at her apartment.

  “Who is this?” She asks again.

  She knows who it is. She just read the description on the back of the card. She just wants me to say it. She’s going to be mad at me. But why? I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I was trying to help her. I stay silent, the words caught in my throat.

  “Matthew,” she says, her tone more serious than I’ve ever heard it before. She waits for me to answer, even as I pull onto her street. The truck crawls to a stop in front of her apartment.

  “Matthew!” She shouts. “Answer me!”

  I put the truck in park and stare at my hands as they drop into my lap. “It’s a grief counselor.”

  She stares at me, waiting for me to explain myself. I shrug, looking over at her.

  “I just thought it might help… if you talked to someone.” Because I don’t know how to help!

  Josie looks down at the card in her hand and unbuckles her seat belt. Her breathing becomes heavy and I watch her as her fist curls around the brochures. She throws the small card at my chest, staring me down, fuming.

  “You don’t get to tell me how to deal with this.”

  “I w
asn’t-”

  “No!” She shouts.

  She pushes my arm hard, angry tears beginning to prick at her eyes. “How dare you!”

  I sit there and take it, watching the woman I love fall apart. She shoves me again and gets out of my truck. The brochures are crumpled in her hand and she throws them at me, sending them over the seats and floor.

  “Fuck you.”

  I’m shocked. I have never heard Josie curse before. Hardly a damn has left her mouth. And it makes this moment all the more powerful. All the more harmful. And just when I think it can’t get worse…

  “I hate you!” She shouts.

  She slams the door and runs up to her apartment. And I sit there, stunned, shocked, frozen, paralyzed. My heart’s beating so fast that I think it might burst. My stomach is squeezing. I feel sick. I can’t breathe. I’m numb driving back home. And I know in the moment that it happens that the mean mask, as shattered as it is, just went back on.

  Chapter 37

  Matthew Steele.

  My phone buzzes on my nightstand. I turn my head to look at it. I know who it is. Josie. I haven’t talked to her for two weeks. In the last few days she’s called me a handful of times. She leaves voicemails. I haven’t listened to any of them. I pick my phone up off of the nightstand and hold it in my hand. I let it ring and ring and then go to voicemail. As soon as I get the notification of a new voicemail, I do what I’ve done with all the messages she’s left me. I delete it. I don’t even listen to it. I don’t want it there. I want it gone. I think in the moment she meant what she said. In that moment, she hated me. And that still fucking hurts. It hurts worse than not talking to her. It hurts worse than anything. It’s like a nightmare that I never had. Except it’s worse. It’s real. It happened. And she meant it. I get up from my bed and run a hand over my face. I feel like a zombie. It’s been nearly two weeks since it all went down. It’s time to start getting my shit together again. I head to the bathroom and start the water. I need to shower, shave, and eat. And maybe then, I’ll feel better.

  * * *

  Forty minutes later, I leave the bathroom. Surprise surprise, I’m still miserable. The door to the apartment slams as I enter the kitchen. I’m surprised by it and peek my head around the corner expecting to see one of the guys pissed off. I’m surprised when it’s Harper who comes charging in, eyes ablaze with anger.

  “Matthew!” She shouts. “Guess where I just came from?”

  Harper. Pain in my ass Harper. She hasn’t quit nagging me about Josie for the last week. I ignore her, turning my back to her.

  “I just came from Josie’s!” She continues, answering her own question.

  When I give her nothing but silence, she stomps her foot on the ground. It’s like she’s a four year old throwing a fucking tantrum.

  “Do you even love her?” She asks.

  I shake my head and turn towards the fridge, ignoring her.

  “Come on Matthew! She’s destroyed right now. Do you love her?”

  I grab a beer from the fridge, popping the top off. “I’m not talking to you about this Harper. It’s none of your damn business.”

  “Like hell it’s not!” She fires back. “She’s my best friend. What hurts her hurts me. That makes it my business.”

  I chug the beer, using it to soften her words.

  “How much do you love her?” She asks again.

  I pull the beer away from my mouth. “What the hell kind of question is that anyways? What do you mean how much? Like on a scale of one to ten?” I offer it sarcastically but Harper shrugs.

  “Sure. On a scale from one to ten, how much do you love her?”

  I roll my eyes at her, scoffing. “I’m sorry, I missed the cue that put us back in fucking middle school.”

  Harper shakes her head. “You’re such an asshole.”

  “I know that. And so does she.”

  “Why does she put up with you?!” She shouts.

  I stare back at her with angry eyes. “She’s the one who told me to fuck off!”

  The shouting and commotion finally wakes Thomas, who comes out of his room.

  “You’re so full of shit Matthew!” She shouts.

  Thomas is tired, but shocked, and quickly comes over. He walks between us but Harper holds her hand out, keeping him at a distance from her.

  He looks between us, confused. “Babe, what is-”

  “Don’t Thomas. This is between him and I,” she says, never taking her eyes off of me.

  “Bullshit,” I respond. “It’s between Josie and I. You’re not involved Harper.”

  She points her finger at me. “You know what Matthew, fuck you.”

  “Right back at you sweetheart,” I return.

  Thomas’ voice is loud and concerned. “Guys-”

  She looks at Thomas, shaking her head. “Stay out of it.” Turns back to me. “Josie is sitting at her apartment, crying her eyes out, and you’re here, doing what? Watching movies? Eating lunch? She won’t touch food. She won’t stop crying. She’s hurting. And you have fucking abandoned her.”

  “Harper that’s enough. Lay off him,” Thomas says.

  She turns on him, her anger ever growing. “Thomas, if you tell me what to do one more time, so help me God, I will stop speaking to you. Get away from me.”

  He looks at me, not knowing what to do. I turn back to Harper.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?” I ask. “She told me she hated me. And I’m supposed to go run back to her?”

  “After all the times she’s forgiven you! You can’t find it in your heart to forgive her?!”

  “I never said that! I just need time!” I shout.

  “You idiot! She needs you right now! She’s… she’s…”

  Harper trails off, putting her head in her hands. She groans loudly, frustrated.

  “She’s what?” I ask, annoyed. “She’s hurt?”

  Harper looks back up at me, her eyes serious. “My God you really have no idea do you?”

  “No idea about what?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

  “Yes, she’s hurt!”

  My response is quick. “I’m not the one who said ‘fuck you’!”

  “Not just that kind of hurt! She’s terrified!”

  Suddenly my responses are taken from my mouth. “She’s terrified?”

  Harper shakes her head at me, seething. “You fucking idiot. She called you how many times? Did you listen to any of the messages she left you?”

  No I didn’t. I deleted them all. I never even pressed play.

  “Terrified about what?” I ask, fear quickly spreading across my body.

  Harper turns back to Thomas, who’s watching our conversation like a tennis match. His head going back and forth, wondering if he should step in as mediator.

  “Can you go back to your room please?” Harper asks. “This is private.”

  His brows pinch in confusion and then concern, but he steps back to his room, shutting the door softly behind him.

  “Something happened with her sister,” Harper tells me.

  The response comes quick. “Shit.”

  “Yeah. She’s torn up about it. Thus the no eating. Can’t stop crying. Don’t tell me you thought that was all about you.”

  I stay silent, staring at her.

  “Oh my God. You’re even more of an asshole than I thought. No Matthew. Your fight is just the cherry on top of her shitty sundae.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “She called you! Left messages! That’s why I said she needs you now! That’s why I said you need to forgive her! That’s why I said you’ve abandoned her!”

  Fuck. Fuck!

  I start searching around for my keys. She needs me right now. I have to go to her.

  “Finally,” Harper murmurs.

  I find my keys and run out the door, driving to Josie’s fast and parking as soon as I’m out front. I buzz her gate several times, hoping she’ll let me in.

  “Josie it’s me,” I say when the speaker
clicks on. The gate opens and I run upstairs to her. I pound on the door and hear as the lock slides open and Josie opens the door. She’s wearing her faded yellow sweater, black leggings, and fuzzy socks.

  “Hi,” she sniffles.

  “What happened?” I ask quickly.

  “She won’t wake up,” she says quietly. “She’s breathing but she… she won’t wake up. The d-doctors say it’s the end.”

  Shit.

  “Fuck Josie, I’m so sorry.”

  She holds her arms out for a hug and it breaks my fucking heart. She’s just looking for a little bit of support. I wrap my arms around her waist tight, locking her beneath me and hug her. Her arms tighten around my back as she breaks down, sobbing against me.

  “I’m so sorry Matthew,” she cries.

  “Shh shh, it’s okay Jos.”

  I feel as she shakes her head against me. “No, no it’s not. I said such terrible things. I didn’t mean them.”

  I stroke her hair softly. “I should have been here for you.”

  “No,” she cries. I can feel her tears through my shirt. “I feel awful. I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that. You were just trying to help.”

  “It’s fine Josie. I don’t want you to feel bad about it.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she continues, sobbing. “I didn’t mean any of it. I want you here with me.”

  I’m such a fuck up. I should have been here. What was I thinking? Deleting her messages? Ignoring her for two weeks? What the fuck is wrong with me? I pull away and duck down so I can look her in the eyes. “Hey I’m not going anywhere, okay? You know you’re still my girl. I wouldn’t give you up for the world.”

  She nods her head and hugs me again. I lean against the door to hold us up as she cries in my arms. She’s tired. She needs to rest. But it may help her to get the tears out, so I stand there and hold her against me. I brush my hands through her hair as she cries, holding onto me tight. I hate that this is part of our story. This grief, this pain. But she did it for me with Clay. Now it’s time for me to step up. I can handle it. I have to. I love her.

  Chapter 38