even if i am. (6 page)

chapter eleven

it’s okay to think about ending

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Wednesday, June 22, 9:45 a.m.
Subject:
early hours

sitting down to work,

thinking about you

always thinking about you

in the early hours this morning,

in that place between dreams and consciousness

i held you —

took you in my arms,

felt your hard edge soften

your pace slow to a stop

and it was good.

"It's Okay To Think About Ending"
Earlimart

It’s okay, to think about ending.

And it’s okay, to not even start

Put it away, wait ‘til tomorrow

Put it away, and take care of your heart

I don’t know how, but Anthony always found the perfect song to attach.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Wednesday, June 22, 2:07 p.m.
Subject:
Re: early morning

thank you.

the past few days have

been overwhelming.

between the two hours of sleep a night,

and changing bandages…

I feel sick.

my boyfriend decided

he didn’t want his parents to come

and see him like this…

which means, I am the only help he has.

we’ve spent the last two days back at the hospital

getting MRIs and CAT scans…

luckily the news has been good.

his stitches won’t stop bleeding,

so we have to go to his doctor every twelve hours

for medication to help clot his blood…

right now he’s sleeping at the hospital

until his next dose of medication at 5 p.m.

my first break since tues.

I think I’ll sneak in a nap

before going back to the hospital.

I wish I had sweet words to send your way.

simple thoughts or phrases to ease your mind.

just know, that I too

am thinking of you.

“Reconstructive surgery just above his eye, a long cut that starts at his eyelid through his eyebrow. It’s twenty stitches long.”

“Is he okay?” Zach asked as he and I walked for coffee. Zach was a good listener. He had this way of making any hill feel less steep.

“He’s pretty banged up — has major cuts on his face from the windshield and burns from the airbags, plus a handful of bruises on his body. I’ve spent the last week changing bandages, and pulling out small pieces of glass from his forehead. It’s absolutely awful. The smell of blood, the crusty ointments…”

“Okay, that’s gross.”

“Sorry.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Like shit. I wish I didn’t have to do all of this. I’m not good with blood and needles and stuff.”

“Me, neither. I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing like a car accident to change your perspective.”

“You would think, but after surgery he was more concerned with leaving his computer in the car than finding new perspective. He started listing all the things that were ruined in the accident. His car, iPod, Blackberry, computer…”

“Are you kidding?” Zach turned to look at me seriously.

“No.”

“He’s lucky he didn’t lose one of these.” He pointed to his eye, dumbfounded by my response.

“Right.”

“Now what are you gonna do?”

“It’s not like I can break up with him. Can I?” I was staring at the ground, hoping the pavement would offer up some sort of answer.

“What about Anthony?”

I stopped walking and turned to look at him. “You know?” I had no idea Anthony had confided in Zach. I figured he talked to Jay, but I get it. Zach was someone who knew both of us, a good sounding board.

“Yeah, he needed to tell someone.”

“I suppose.”

“He really likes you, you know.”

“I know.” I sighed. “And I really like him.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

“You should talk to Anthony. He’s worried about you, and not just for selfish reasons.”

Noise interrupted my thoughts as Zach opened the door to the coffee shop.

“I know. I will. Thank you Zach.”

“Tall or grande? You’re welcome.”

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Thursday, June 30, 6:21 p.m.
Subject:
kinda serious…

I started an e-mail early this morning…

it was filled with small talk and frivolous chatter

which only filled the page with nonsense.

so I decided to start over.

to help reassure you,

and tell you again…

I adore you.

it comes in waves

for no reason,

but it fills me.

at night, especially…

when I close my eyes

I imagine you holding me,

wonder how we’d fit together.

and there are moments

when I want to walk into your bay

and kiss you…

and the only thing that gets me

through this, through this time,

is knowing I will have you. someday.

and I don’t think about

if we can survive…

I only think about

how nice it will feel

to finally let my guard down

with you.

so, until then…

I will

stay loyal

avoid rumors

and

distance myself…

while slowly gathering strength.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Thursday, June 30, 11:45 p.m.
Subject:
Re: kinda serious…

thank you for the e-mail…

i can’t begin to explain

how much i needed to hear/read

those words and feelings…

to be reminded, to remember —

it feels like something soft,

something good washing over me…

calming me, restoring me…

bringing me back

to the person i am.

it is a little scary

to feel how much you affect me

…

After the accident, Five Year acted like a spoiled child. Cried when something hurt too much, or sulked when he didn’t get his way. He became self-absorbed and focused on material possessions, his career, his appearance. Somehow the accident intensified it all. “Will you still love me if I have a scar on my face?” He lost track of anything he couldn’t claim; felt life ripped him off and deserving of more.

I’m not going to lie. Maybe I was looking for faults, but every action disgusted me. I thought he’d wrap his arms around me and confess his love, his devotion to me. I know it’s fucked up, but for a brief moment I believed this accident could be our second chance. I tried to right my wrongs by removing bandages wadded and covered with smears of blood and yellow stuff and little pieces of flesh. It was gross. I gagged. Yet, I thought if I took amazing care of him that he’d love me, tell me that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me — have babies — share everything he had with me…

“Hey, don’t forget I am going to Cleveland to visit my grandmother next weekend, then I’m going to Hawaii for work.”

“You’re still going?” You asshole.

“Of course I’m still going. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for weeks now.”

That was the moment I broke. I couldn’t stand him a second longer.

“I’m moving out.” I said it before I even thought it.

“What?”

“I can’t do this anymore.” I pointed back and forth from him to me.

“What do you mean you can’t do
this
anymore?” He repeated my gesture.

“I can’t be with you. I can’t keep pretending that I’m happy.”

“What?”

“When I first met you, I wasn’t thinking of marriage…”

“There’s that word again.” He rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t think marriage and a family were so important to me, but as I’m slowly finding myself, these things are important — you say you understand but you don’t. It’s not just a phase I am going through. I want more.”

“Why are you doing this to me? Especially now.”

“Doing this to
you
? I didn’t realize what a selfish jackass you can be. This car accident has only made you worse. I’m tired of changing bandages. And, I am tired of compromising. At the end of the road, you and I want different things. I see that now. We are not what I want anymore.”

Like an angered three-year-old, he started crying before I could say another word. “I knew this would happen. I knew you’d do this to me.”

He kept babbling, completely irrational. Every redeeming word, thought, or sentence I uttered was followed with a shout of disapproval. There was nothing left to chew. He was done listening. I was fighting a war I knew I would lose. I left the room as he lay crying on our bed, still yelling.

…

I slept on the couch. Five Year took the bedroom. I didn’t remind him of my decision to move out, or that I was actively looking. Why bother. It was hard enough to keep the peace throughout our home. If we did converse, it was brief. The word love was no longer used. I worked extra hours avoiding him. He worked extra hours avoiding me.

On lunch breaks I would tour new apartments and areas throughout the city, imagining my new home. I’d forgotten what it was like to live my own life. Maybe I never knew, but the thrill of looking for a place had me hopeful — heartbroken, but hopeful. Five years together no longer mattered. It was time for fresh starts and clean slates.

chapter twelve

shelter

Anthony kept his word. We kept it at bay. No secret rendezvous, only brief e-mails and a couple of phone calls. I had been so busy playing nurse, and then finding an apartment, that I was preoccupied. Two weeks was all it took. Two weeks and I missed Anthony.

I called, pleading, “Meet me in the stairwell?”

…

“Two blocks from work!” Nudging him, I added, “Come on, indulge my enthusiasm.”

“A new home, eh? That’s exciting.” He didn’t really indulge.

“Yeah, we’ll see. Fingers crossed.”

“Did you come up with any birthday plans yet?”

“Not really. I still have a couple of days to think about it. I might have dinner with friends. How about you? How are you? Since the accident it feels like we haven’t spent much time together.”

“We haven’t,” he said halfhearted. His hand drifted to his tummy.

“Sorry,” I said, lowering my tone to match his.

“That’s okay. I’m okay. Work’s been crazy lately.” He sounded upset.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, not really. Just some health stuff. I haven’t been feeling very good. I didn’t want to tell you. You already have a lot going on…”

“Really? Is it your stomach again?”

“Yeah, the stomach aches are getting worse,” he mumbled. “Umm, this is kind of awkward but I’m bleeding when I take a number two.” We both sat there, mute for a moment. “I went to my doctor last week, and he scheduled a colonoscopy.”

“Oh.” I am a jerk, sometimes. I am. I should have reached out sooner.

“I get this feeling it’s something serious. Too many stomachaches in a row.”

I noticed how his hand settled on his stomach for comfort.

“Maybe it’s an ulcer or hemorrhoids or something?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you scared?” I looked him directly in the eyes, trying to see if I should be, too.

“I don’t know. Kind of.” He now examined his hand to his tummy.

“When’s the colonoscopy?”

“On Monday.”

“Do you have a ride? I can take you. My boyfriend leaves on Saturday to visit his grandma. I could probably get out of work?” I explained this all in one long breath.

“No, that’s okay. I think Jay can pick me up.”

I felt a little disappointed.

“If you need anything, will you please call me?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Can I have a hug?”

“Always.” He grabbed me tightly.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Monday, July 18, 6:04 p.m.
Subject:
you’re not here, but I’m sending an e-mail

my LEAST favorite thing?

is when you are not here,

and at the doctor’s…

I am sending you all the love

and strength my body can offer…

can you feel it?

damn I miss you…

I wish I could hold your hand right now,

and tell you

everything

is going to be okay.

…

Anthony called, still groggy. In one long run-on sentence he explained the colonoscopy. From the anesthesia countdown to the monitor presenting his colon, he was awake during the entire process as the camera looked for obstructions. He said they found a lump and took a biopsy.

“You okay?” I questioned.

“I am now that I’ve heard your voice.” His voice was sleepy and sweet. “Jay’s here, so can I call you later tonight?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay.”

“Anthony?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you more.”

…

It was reassuring to hear his soft voice on the other end of the line. I told him I got the house. “The one two blocks from work. I move in August.” I described the yard for Gladys, the perfectly square layout, and the pink exterior. He told me I looked sexy in pink. We talked until one in the morning, eager, playful, and hopeful for days ahead. I said so. He said so. Half-awake, half-asleep, we joked about running away for my birthday.

“Weren’t we supposed to elope in Mexico?” we said in unison.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Tuesday, July 19, 9:07 a.m.
Subject:
shelter

it still amazes me

how far down some roads

we have traveled,

while there are so many other roads

we have not even touched…

staying up on the phone,

talking to obscene hours,

and nearly falling asleep

ear to ear with each other…

it is something we should have done

a long, long time ago…

it seems as though

to make up for what

we cannot do together,

we take the things we can do,

and run with them as far

as they can be taken…

exploding within our limitations…

the song i am sending

is one that brought us to mind,

one that made me think

that perhaps it is a good thing

we are both taking on great difficulties

at the same time in our lives…

similarity?

“you will shelter me, my love

and i… i will shelter you…

i will shelter you…”

"Shelter"
Ray Lamontagne

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Tuesday, July 19, 12:21 p.m.
Subject:
similarities

the “great difficulties”

we are both enduring

may get uncomfortable at times…

may make the “us” we’ve created,

and so desperately hung on to, difficult.

but I do believe it is the similarities that will

bring us closer…

to the end of the roads

we have yet to experience.

and through it all I will secretly wish

for another late night conversation…

because those moments with you,

are simply beautiful.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Tuesday, July 19, 2:34 p.m.
Subject:
the heels of happiness

the challenges…

the similarities…

yes, i think those are the things

that bring us together unconsciously,

that will bring us together ultimately…

it freaks me out a bit

to talk in that tense…

the future…

i know it freaks you out too…

and besides,

it is so much better to live it

as it unfolds than it is

to talk about what we expect it to be…

and i can feel your fear,

that we are growing too fast…

that if you loosen the leash

just a little bit,

we will run completely

out of control…

and i know you feel,

that with every inch

you and i sink deeper into each other,

the delirious pleasure

of surrender…

of hope…

of love…

but on the heels of happiness

comes the fear of having let in too much

confusion…

complication…

second guesses…

know that i am here.

for you.

when you are ready.

if you are ready.

no assumptions.

no expectations.

with hope.

and fears.

but mostly hope…

and love.

lots of fucking love…

…

Running downstairs to his bay, I couldn’t move fast enough.

“What did the doctor say?”

He hesitated, filling his lungs with air, then puffed out one big breath.

“They found a malignant tumor on my colon.”