Fragile Bonds (9 page)

“I’ve spent the past two days wondering what you would have to say for yourself. What you would come up with to justify not letting Xavier talk to me the
many
times he called. And most of all, I have been
dying
to hear why you thought it was, in any way, acceptable for you to write that letter.” Silence. My supposed best friend has nothing to say and can’t even have the courtesy to look upset about the fact that she’s been busted.

Her reaction makes me feel even more like a fool. If I had a momentary lapse of sanity and did something like this
to her, I would be on my knees groveling for forgiveness, trying to make her see why I did what I did. But no, she just sits there picking at the label on her beer bottle.

“Fucking talk to me!” I scream, jumping out of my chair. Brody yelps before hiding behind the couch. “If the past decade has meant anything to you, talk to me and tell me
why
you did it!”

“You want to know why?” she yells back. Finally, a reaction out of her. “Because you weren’t strong enough to deal with him. If you had talked to Xavier, you would have forgiven him and the cycle would have started all over again! I watched you give yourself to him and he treated you like a fucking child.”

Stacey never has, nor will she ever, understand the dynamics of my former relationship with Xavier. I’ve tried to make her understand more times than I can count, so I don’t expect one more round to bring her clarity. “It wasn’t your place to make that decision for me, Stacey.” I’m calmer now that she’s actually talking to me. It hurts because I know we’re not going to kiss and make up, but at least I’ll have the closure with her that I never had with Xavier. “I was an adult. I should have been allowed to make my own decision.”

“Do you not get it? You were a fucking wreck,” Stacey yells, pacing from the living room to the kitchen. “And for what? Because you
dared
to go to a party without his consent? Who the fuck kicks the woman he claims to love out of the house they share because she disobeyed his wishes?”

“That’s not what it was and you know it,” I say softly. When it comes to Stacey, I can’t bring myself to fight. Maybe I would have if Xavier and I had talked while at home, but having time and distance to process my thoughts, I see that there’s nothing there to salvage. In reality, I think she and I have been drifting for a long time, this issue coming to light has just
served as the catalyst for both of us to head in the direction our lives are supposed to take. “I think you need to go.”

On the off-chance that my serenity is a façade, I retreat to my bedroom, leaning against the door until I hear her leave. And then, I slide to the floor and cry.

For the loss of my best friend.

For the knowledge that Xavier had tried to talk to me. And that there’s not a thing I can do about it.

For Alyssa, the woman I wanted to hate and couldn’t, who will be taken away from us far too soon.

And I cry, knowing that in less than seventy-two hours, my heart has gone from
somewhat healthy to completely and devastatingly empty.

If avoidance was a sport, Melanie would be well on her way to the professional ranks by this point. In the three weeks since we flew home from the cruise, it’s been entertaining to see the lengths she is willing to go to in order to avoid being in the same room with me. At first, it was that she needed to switch out laundry, at which point I reminded her that she is not the housekeeper. She ignored me, mumbling something about wanting to give me more time to spend with Jacob and Alyssa.

The day my leave was approved, I thought she was going to choke on her water when I burst into Alyssa’s room late in the day to tell her that I wasn’t going back to the office. Alyssa, bless her heart, assured Melanie that having me home didn’t mean we didn’t want her there, assuming that’s why she reacted the way she did.

Now, with Jacob and Alyssa both napping, there’s nothing for either one of us to do. I sit on the couch, pretending to surf the web on my iPad while Melanie bustles around the kitchen, making a grocery list. No doubt, once she has that list compiled, she will rush out the front door so she can get away from me. I accept full blame for the return of the awkwardness between us. It was wrong of me to revisit the past for my own selfish reasons. Not only has it created a chasm between us, it’s left me with greater guilt than I’ve ever felt because admitting that I feel anything for Melanie feels like a betrayal to Alyssa.

“Hey, brother,” Braydon whispers when he walks into the living room, making me jump off the couch. How in the hell did he manage to walk through our front door and sneak up on me? “Whatcha looking at?” he asks, glancing at the iPad that is still sitting on the home screen.
Realizing that the device in my lap is only for show, his gaze travels to the kitchen, where Melanie is hunched over the counter.

“Don’t,” I warn him. While he and Melanie are getting along now, he hasn’t made any secret of the fact that he doesn’t agree with me allowing her to stay on as Alyssa’s hospice companion. He’s not wrong to tell me that I’m doing more harm than good by having her here, but I don’t need to hear it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses, sitting down opposite of me on the couch. “Alyssa is getting weaker every day, and now I walk in here and you look like a lovesick fool, trying to be sly about watching the object of his affection. That’s fucking low, even for you.”

“I told you to leave it be, Bray,” I warn him again. Melanie raises her head, her brows furrowed together. Obviously, I’m not as quiet as I thought I had been. Lowering my voice, I continue, “You couldn’t be more off-base about your assumptions. And no, I’m not going to go into the details with you, so drop it.”

Braydon holds his hands out in front of him, surrendering this fight. He turns to look down the hall and I shake my head to answer the question he’s not asking. It’s morbid, but it feels as if death watch has been going on for about a week now. Alyssa’s health declined rapidly after the trip. She’s sleeping most of the time, unless the pain radiating through her body wakes her. This morning, she breathing was ragged when I checked on her. We’ve both researched what will happen when it’s getting close to time, despite every warning her doctors and Melanie have issued. We’re not stupid men, we know it won’t be long now.

“Just be careful, okay?” I look at my brother and see genuine concern in his eyes. “I know how much you loved Melanie. I’m pretty sure you probably
still do. But I also know how much Alyssa means to you. You can’t use Melanie as a crutch after Alyssa dies. It’s not fair to you, to her, or to your wife’s memory.”

“I get it,” I assure him. I peek over my shoulder and see that Melanie has disappeared from the kitchen. “I think I fucked up, Bray.”

It’s not often that I admit to doing something wrong, probably because I’m normally anal about thinking over every situation before acting. Except when it comes to Melanie. If I wasn’t so consumed with everything going on in my life, the stunned look on his face would be amusing.

“Then fix it,” he says matter-of-factly. What he doesn’t know is that is
exactly
how I put myself where I am now. I tried to fix something that, in retrospect, wasn’t as broken as I thought and now it is. I spend the next half hour going through everything Melanie and I talked about in the café, needing the wisdom of my best friend and brother, as much as I tried telling him to mind his own business. He’s the one person who understands that Melanie Erickson is my kryptonite.

It’s almost time.

I blink my eyes open to see who is talking to me, only to find that I’m alone in my room. When I try to sit up, I curse my body because not only does it hurt like hell, it leaves me winded. There’s no reason sitting up should be considered physical exertion, but my body is shutting down.

The words that haunted my dreams are on a constant loop in my mind. They were so clear, I would have sworn someone had been sitting in the chair next to the bed, whispering directly into my ear. I reach for my cell phone and text Melanie to let her know I’m awake. It’s more civilized than yelling for her, which I’m not sure I have the energy to do at this point.
She peeks her head around the door, quickly masking the pity with a plastered on smile.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” she asks cautiously, grabbing my next dose of pain medication off the dresser.

“Like I’m dying,” I sigh, knowing it’s not an expression at this point.
It’s almost time.
That fucking voice is starting to annoy me. “Can you sit with me for a while?”

I’ve come to terms with the fact that the rest of my life can be measured in days
or maybe even hours, not weeks or months at this point. There’s nothing I can do to change it and in case there really is a heaven, I figure cursing God now won’t earn me any brownie points. I’m not sure you can ever be ready to die, but seeing as it’s inevitable, I cried until there were no more tears. With that out of my system, I promised to do what I can to make life after I’m gone easier on my husband and son. I can’t put off talking to Melanie any longer.

“I need to ask you for a huge favor,” I say, my voice barely audible thanks to the crushing weight that has taken up residence on my chest.

Melanie leans in, encasing my hand in both of hers. This woman’s strength amazes me. Even if I thought, at any time, that I could do her job, situations like this would send me running for the hills. How can she walk into a family’s home, knowing that they will be suffering when she leaves? How can she remain detached from the patients she sits with day in and day out?

“Only if you stop joking about death,” she replies, her tone serious.

“No can do,” I laugh weakly. “Unless, of course, you can figure out a way to make it so I’ll live until I’m eighty.”

Melanie closes her eyes and I know she’s trying to hold back her tears. It amazes me how this woman, who I have only known a few months is so affected by my condition. Again, I find myself wondering how she goes through this repeatedly and can still be a functioning adult.
I would be a full-blown alcoholic if I were in her shoes, using the drinks as a way to dull the pain every day.

“Okay, we need to be serious for a minute.” She opens her eyes and scoots her chair closer to me, nodding once she’s comfortable.

Before I get to the scary part of our discussion, I reach beside the bed, pulling up a shoe box filled with letters and cards. I’ve spent the better part of two weeks writing notes to my son for each birthday that I will miss, his high school and college graduations, his wedding day and the day he becomes a father. Pouring my heart out to him, imagining the man that he will grow into was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but he needs to know that I love him and even death can’t change that. Next, I grab a teddy bear that I plan to give Jacob later this afternoon.

It’s almost time.

When I try to tell her that I’m going to let Jacob know that this is his magical bear that will allow him to talk to me, even when I’m not here, I fall apart. Melanie hands me a tissue to wipe my nose when my sobs turn into a full-blown ugly cry.

“How can I say goodbye to him?” I wail, not for myself but for my son. Every night, he tells me that I’m going to get better and I’ve let him believe that. If he knew the truth, there’s no way we would be able to get him to go to sleep at night for fear something would happen while he sleeps. I won’t allow my son to live with a lifetime of regrets, knowing that he never got to say goodbye to me, so tonight will likely be the last time I see my son.

Melanie can’t talk over her own sobbing. She looks to the ceiling, trying to regain her composure. This time, I’m the one handing her a tissue because she’s a hot mess right now.

“I need you to take care of them. I’m not scared for me, but if I think about how Jacob and Xavier are going to move past this, I’m terrified.”
I know I need to do this, but it doesn’t ease the churning in my stomach. My body shakes as I work up the courage to continue speaking. This is the first, and likely the easiest, of the conversations I need to have today but all I want to do is sleep.

What I’m about to ask her is something I’ve known I needed to since the night after she and Xavier spent the day walking around Nassau.
Seeing the way she masked whatever pain she was feeling when she saw my son was like a beacon pointing to the answer to my one remaining fear. The way her brown eyes lit up as she talked about taking my little boy on a “date” melted my heart. That was also the day all the pieces of her puzzle fell into place in my mind.

“Melanie, I
need
you to promise me that you will be there for them,” I beg, tears falling fast enough to create stains on my t-shirt. “I’ll be fine, as long as I know you’re here for them.”