Save Me (14 page)

“They’re everywhere? Even in the fields around my parents’?” Noble nods, smiling at my hand between his legs.

“They created more tillable ground. Without them, certain fields would be filled with water.” Noble rubs his chin as he shakes his head. “I should have replaced it in March.”

“Anything else you regret not doing?” I ask, and Noble turns his attention from the ground to me. The tractor drives itself as Noble’s eyes drive into mine.

“Some days I regret not taking you out of your parents’ luncheon.” Noble watches me, gauging my reaction, but it’s all dead inside of me. There’s nothing left of that day. Jason took the fragments with him. “I could have saved you a lot of heartache.”

How different would my life have been if I had leaned on Noble instead of Jason in the wake of my parents’ death? There’s a quiet joy in Noble as he says this. Reminding me of the damaging effects of my relationship with Jason generates some power for him. It’s weak, though, and I don’t like it.

“But I honestly have no regrets. It’s impossible to sit here with you and question anything.”

M
ay third.

Four months since we were told six to nine months with treatment. Someone should have asked how long without treatment. Although, what difference would it make?

There are days when I think he won’t make it another minute and then there are better ones. It’s finally hot, going up to eighty-four today, and I wish Noble and I could escape to the shore. He took me last May and asked me when we were going to get married. It’s been a year but feels like a lifetime. What a terrible newlywed I am. I sneak downstairs and make Noble breakfast and bring it up to our bedroom. He opens his eyes when the aroma of French toast fills the room.

“What’s all this?” he asks, rolling onto his side and filling me with his warmth just from the look in his eyes.

“Breakfast, for my husband, who I love,” I say, and lean over to kiss him. “I’ve been a terrible wife the last few months, neglected you really. We’re supposed to be newlyweds.”

“I am horribly neglected. You should be having sex with me six times per day,” he says matter-of-factly, and takes a bite of the toast.

“Six times a day is a lofty goal. I might have to come out to the fields.”

“Then you should. What are you doing today? After me, that is?”

“I don’t know. It’s going to be beautiful…”

“And you want to go to the shore?” he says, and I marvel at how obvious I am to him. “I can’t go today, but if you give me a few days I might be able to sneak in a quick trip. I’m sorry.” Noble’s regret reminds me to feel guilty. I shouldn’t be at the shore anyway. “I have some jobs lined up I can’t put off.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re busy.”
I’m busy, too. I have to watch Butch die some more.
“Maybe I’ll lay out here. I wish Jenn were home. I would escape to her lake house.”

After lunch I put on my bathing suit and sunscreen. I am absolutely bright white and should not be in public. Maybe it’s better Noble can’t go to the shore. I head to the backyard on the other side of the barns, far from the view of Butch’s house, and spread out my blanket. I lie on my stomach, up on my forearms, and read the newspaper as if I care about one word written in it. Eventually, I roll to my side and close my eyes, and the sun takes my consciousness away.

The little blue bird is in her hands. Mrs. Leer holds it in both her palms and it squawks and squawks as if it’s trying to tell us something.

“Annie, defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy. Deliver the poor and needy: rid them out of the hand of the wicked.”

“Huh? Mrs. Leer, what more could you want from me? Did you hear about Butch? He’ll be there soon.”

“Annie, it’s up to you,” she says again, and looks down at the little bird. I bow my head and cry.

“I feel terrible about that bird. I swear I do. I don’t know why I didn’t help it. I could barely help myself back then. Forgive me,” I say to the bird, and to Mrs. Leer holding it.

I wake to the weight of my dog jumping on my chest and him licking my face. I’m startled and disoriented, and tears are streaming down my cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” Jason says, and is immediately on the blanket with me. I see his mother in his face and it makes me cry harder. “What’s wrong, Annie?” Jason pulls me up. I lay my head on his shoulder and try to figure out what more I can do for Butch. What does she want me to do?

“Is Butch all right?” I ask, lifting my head off his chest and wiping the tears from my face.

“He’s the same. I let BJ out and he ran around your house like a bat out of hell. I wondered what he was after, but it was you. He knew you were back here.” I rub behind BJ’s ears. Such a sweet little guy. “That dog sure does love you.”

BJ snuggles in next to me. His fur feels strange on my hot, bare legs and I’m suddenly aware I’m in Jason’s arms in a bikini. I scoot back on the blanket.

“Jason Jr. loves you,” he says, and I sit up straight. This is dangerous, a low blow even for Jason.

“He barely knows me.”

“He knows everything he needs to know.”

I ignore him. It’s too much to listen to. “When you guys go home…” I choke on the words. “You should enroll Jay in nursery school. He’s ready. He’s very smart.” I gather the newspapers the breeze has spread across the blanket. Jason moves closer, his body parallel with mine, his legs behind me. His closeness triggers the vital memories I fight to ignore and I shiver.

“What if this is our home? What if we stay?”

I close my eyes and let the internal war take over. The majority of me wants him to disappear, while a small fraction will disintegrate in his absence. The breeze stops, the papers stop blowing, and the trees silence. It’s as if Jason has stopped the Earth.

“The tide is changing,” I think out loud.

“What?” he asks, never taking his eyes off me.

“My grandmother used to say when the wind stopped it’s because the tide changed directions. What time is it?”

“Almost one thirty,” he says, checking his watch.

“Probably going out. The tide is turning.”

“Thank God,” he says.

“Thankful now, are you?” It’s as if we’ve never lost a thing in our lives because we have everything, right here on this blanket.

Without permission, my hand rises to the fresh scruff on Jason’s face. I rub my thumb across it as a tingling electrifies my body. The current silences the sarcasm and relaxes my resolve. My eyes find his, deep charcoal now as he covers my hand with his own.

“You’re making this impossible.” I swallow hard. “You make everything impossible.” I squeeze my eyes shut as tears run down my face.

Jason holds my face in both his hands and wipes my tears with his thumbs. “When I see you and Jay together, I know anything is possible.” This makes me cry harder. I’m approaching a sob and I want to run and hide. “With you, Annie. You can do anything. You can make this work,” he says. But he’s wrong. I can’t save him or me, or Jay, or Butch. My God, poor Butch, and Marie who he’ll leave behind. All of us will be left behind…again.

Nothing is possible.

“Why didn’t you come back when I first told you about the wedding? Why are you doing all of this now? Now that I’m married?”

“I underestimated you.”

“Again,” I say, and Jason never takes his eyes from mine. “You underestimated me again.”

I let go of Jason and stand up next to the blanket, waiting for him to get up, too. He just sits there, staring at me in my bathing suit. His eyes swallow every inch of me, leaving nothing left to force my body to move, and I want to lie down with him forever. I swallow hard and lean over to grab the corner of the blanket. He pulls me down and under him.

His lips are on my neck before I realize where I am and I’m climbing out of my skin at the touch of him. How long has it been? He is ruining me with every breath from his lungs.

“Get off of me!” I yell, and push him, but he doesn’t budge. I pull his ear until he lifts his head from my neck and he pulls both my hands above my head, pinning them. I am throbbing everywhere. “Let me go,” I say, and the look in his eyes sends a chill down the entire front of my body.

“I’m never going to let you go.”

“You have to stop,” I say, barely above a whimper, and Jason releases my hands.

“Stop what?” He backs off a few inches. We haven’t fallen to rape.

“All of it. The birthday text, the egg, the talk of possibilities. I’m married. And it’s to a guy I never want to hurt.”

“He brought this on himself. I have not an ounce of guilt.” Jason sits up, disgusted with the topic of Noble. I stand and walk into the house while BJ trots along behind me, and Jason sits alone on my blanket in my yard.
God, please help me.

Noble and I sit in our pew at church and I miss Butch. His absence is one more reminder of his declining health. He hasn’t been out of the house since we dyed Easter eggs. He wasn’t up to church today—he never is anymore—and Marie stayed home with him. I’m not up to it either, but if I stop doing everything I don’t feel up to, there’ll be nothing left.

It was sweet of Noble to bring me. As I think of it, I hook my arm around his elbow and rest my hand in his. He turns and kisses my head. One moment of peace. His body tenses as Jason sits down inappropriately close to me. I take a deep breath and try to let it out slowly, not sharing with Noble how Jason affects me. Jason only smiles at us the way he would have in high school before any of us were together.

If there was ever a day to be forgiven for being unfocused, today is the day. Pastor Johnson rolls through the morning announcements and before I know it I’m standing between Noble and Jason, silently confessing my sins.

Dear God, I wanted him more than anything on this earth, and standing here beside him even with Noble right here, I know I’m going to want him again. Please forgive me and give me strength.

We sing and we sit, very close again. What were Noble’s confessions? His are between him and God. Mine are squarely between Noble and me. Jason leans over my lap to pull a hymnal from the pew holder and I could kill him. It’s unthinkable I ever found him the least bit entertaining. Him and his ridiculous antics.

Mrs. DuBois is called to the pulpit to read this week’s scripture. Noble opens a Bible next to me to follow along, and I search for a hole to crawl into. Jason leans forward and I quickly hand him a Bible before he has a chance to drape himself across me again.
Ass.
He silently laughs beside me.

Mrs. DuBois begins. “Let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have her own husband. Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence: and likewise also the wife unto the husband. The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband.” Noble raises his eyebrows playfully at me and my stomach clenches. “And likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife. Defraud ye not one the other, except it be with consent for a time, that ye may give yourselves to fasting and prayer; and come together again, that Satan tempt you not for your incontinency. This is the word of the Lord,” she finishes.

“Thanks be to God,” we respond, and I’m beginning to question why every single sermon Pastor Johnson creates is specifically for me. Don’t the other parishioners feel neglected?

Pastor Johnson goes on to point out the importance of prayer. It’s such a priority that giving your body to your spouse should only be interrupted for fasting or prayer. You should not abstain from sexual relations with your husband except to more deeply immerse yourself in prayer, or else Satan might be able to tempt you because of your lack of self-control. The congregation howls with laughter as the pastor’s connection is reached, the only thing more important than sex with your spouse is prayer. I want to ask Noble if he’ll just hit me with the truck. Jason appears to have wiped the shit-eating grin off his face. Apparently, the sermon hit home for him as well.

“I am really beginning to like this church thing,” Noble says, and takes my hand as we walk to the truck. “Even the Bible says I should have power over your body and we should be doing it all the time.”

I squeeze his hand and refuse to look back, or in any other direction. If Jason wants to come to church just to torture me, then he should be tortured, too.

“How about breakfast?” Noble asks, almost giddy now that God is on his side.

“Whatever you want,” I say.

“That’s the spirit. Exactly what the scripture is teaching us.” He is a fool, a happy, hot one, but a fool.

“I think you missed some big parts of the message.”

“Bigger than what I got out of it? We’ll have to go back next week,” Noble says, and holds the passenger door open for me. When I climb into the truck, he leans in and kisses me on the lips. I raise my hands to the sides of his face and let my lips linger on his. When I open my eyes, his are filled with delight.

“Maybe we can go to the earlier service, though?” he says, and I realize he’s still the underdog in this screwed-up situation. A ring, a wedding, a house, some pointed scripture, and yet still fighting for equal in the wake of Annie and Jason’s love affair. The tragedy of it is palpable.

T
he delivery of the hospital bed is what did it. The mere sight of it a realization that death will soon come. More death. How much can one person withstand?

Jason holds the door open for the men to carry it into the house and they set it up in the family room. It’s now the death room. Is this where Jason’s mother spent the last of her days? As I think of how cruel life’s been to Jason, his eyes meet mine. A tiny chill fights through the sadness and I turn away to go help fit the bed with the special sheets we rented. The fact these are rarely purchased is just another sign of death. Hospice will come today. They will spend the last of Butch’s days with him. Hospice, Marie, Jason, BJ, and I will halt our lives to witness the end of Butch’s. I shove the pillow in the case and violently shake it in, not sure it’s the right size, but eventually it conforms. Marie comes into the room and spreads the blanket on the bed. Even with the warmer weather, Butch is cold all the time. He’s thin now, frail. Why does death have to be so debilitating?

My parents were probably happy until the very end. I only remember them as wholly alive, and watching Jason carry his father to his deathbed, I am thankful. He doesn’t deserve this. None of us deserves this.

More prescriptions are given, a cream for a red rash Butch tears at when he has the strength and some other pills and liquids I didn’t listen carefully about. Hopefully Marie could stand the conversation, because I’m at the end of what I can endure.

Jason moves the recliner next to the bed and Marie sits in it, watching Butch as I watch her. Butch turns to me and is taken over by a coughing fit before it can completely surface. That cough. It’s been death’s greeting for months, unwilling to leave us until it takes Butch with it.

I hate it.

I hate all of this.

I lean over and find the button to elevate the bed and raise his head a few inches, hoping the incline will help him breathe better. What the hell do I know, though? Butch falls back to sleep and my eyes meet Marie’s, mine filled with disgust, hers consumed by sadness. Marie touches my hand and when the tears fill my eyes, she stands and puts her arm around my shoulders.

“I know, Charlotte. I know.”

Marie loves Butch as much as I do. It’s Butch, and my parents, and the look on Jason’s face, and the knowledge that I am completely neglecting Noble, and BJ lying next to Butch every minute of the day. What will be left of all of us when this is finally over?

The home health care aide arrives and we leave her to tend to Butch.

“Do either of you want a cup of tea?” Marie asks, her death watch skills kicking into gear.

“No,” I say, and Jason shakes his head.

“Being with someone when they pass is an honor,” Marie says, and Jason and I just stare at each other. The feelings churning inside of me are far from honor. They verge on hatred, and anger, and utter hopelessness. I swallow hard and look down at the floor.

I’m not sure if I’m capable of doing this. There should be some qualifications for being with someone as they die.

I need to get out of here.

Away from death.

“I’m going to pick up the prescriptions,” I say, and hurry to the kitchen. It’s not until I’m halfway to my car in the L-shed that I realize Jason is with me. I stop walking, confused by his company and still angry about Butch.

“I’m going with you,” he says, and even though it’s not his decision, I really don’t care at this point where anyone is because soon Butch will not be here. We drive the eight miles to the pharmacy in silence. The image of Jason carrying Butch to his deathbed is choking me and I’m on the verge of tears when we pull up to the drive-through window. We’re told it’s going to be at least an hour and my shoulders drop. Time is of the essence. This isn’t an allergy pill. There’s a man dying, ripping his skin off his arm because something is making it itch there.
Give me the fucking medicine
, I scream in my head.

“Okay. We’ll be back,” is what I actually say. I pull out of line and onto the road toward Swedesboro.

“Where do you want to go?” I ask, knowing neither of us is going back there.

“Oklahoma,” he says, and my heart breaks for him. “Or anywhere else with you.”

Jason being home with his father is fucking with his head. He hasn’t ridden in too long; he hasn’t competed. His passion is shriveling and he’s holding on to us to keep himself from disappearing, but I can’t help him.

“How about lunch? Maybe someplace on the water,” I say, knowing it will piss him off.

“Or McDonald’s. I’ve had some great meals there,” he says, and I realize I will always be more pissed off than him.

The sight of Butch lying in that bed steals my thoughts. What is BJ going to do when he dies? How will he understand? He’s never seen anything die. Maybe that’s why he was a terrible hunting dog. Maybe he hates death. Noble seems okay with it. He kills things all the time.

I head into Swedesboro and turn right onto Lake Road. We ride in silence as we pass Lake Narraticon and follow the back roads into Mullica Hill. From the street, Blue Plate seems quiet, but the parking lot in the back is almost full. I haven’t been here since my parents were alive, and I’ve never been with Jason or Noble and for some reason that makes it safe. I consider Jason sitting in my passenger seat, scruff covering his gorgeous face, his chest barely contained in his T-shirt and I’m certain there’s no safe place. I swallow hard, open my door, and hop out.

We get a small corner booth for two. I wanted to ask for a large table for eight, but there’s no hope. We could be at a ten-top and have some condition that renders us unable to swallow, and we’d still want each other. It’s a large part of our fuckedupedness.

We order hurriedly and sit in silence, staring at each other. I’m glad I don’t know what he’s thinking because my thoughts are morally wrong and I can’t handle it for both of us.

“The days are getting harder,” Jason says.

I take a sip of my tea, wishing there was vodka in it but knowing intoxication is a bad idea. “And shorter,” I say. Every minute is precious and yet I want Butch to be out of this misery, but I don’t want him to be away from me.

“Charlotte…,” he says, and I just stare at him. He will try anything at this point.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“If you were ever afraid you would lose yourself, if calling you Annie has some meaning other than I love you, then I’ll call you whatever you want.”

I shake my head and lower my eyes.

“This is going to end soon and I don’t want to be without you. I can’t be.” This cannot be happening. “You don’t love him.”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that I do? I do love him,” I snap at him.
I don’t know how I’m capable of loving anyone after a tour with you, but I love him.

“Because with every cell of my body I know you belong to me. Next to me, on top of me.” I swallow hard at the thought of him beneath me. “With me inside of you.”

“I get the picture.”

“And because I know that. Because it’s true. You can’t be in love with him.”

“You didn’t want to pull me away from New York City? You so selflessly fucked Stephanie Harding to make sure I ended up where I belong, but now you’ll have me leave my marriage? You are fucked up,” I spit at him.

“If you give us a chance, I will never let you go again. I promise. Annie, you’ve got to give us another chance. You’ve got to know it’s not a life unless we’re together.”

The waitress brings our food and Jason and I just stare at each other. I am baffled. I hate him. I love him. I want him…to leave.

“I want you to go away with me when this is over.”

“What will be left of me? You think it will be enough for you. If I hurt Noble like that, I won’t be the same person. You wouldn’t want me.”

“Impossible,” he scoffs. We sit in silence until he finally takes a bite of his sandwich. I eat a little and stare at my glass of tea. I wish I could be drunk, unconscious actually. I’m no longer capable of living my life. Not this one, at least.

“You’re always sure of everything. Even when you’re wrong you’re sure,” I say, watching him finish his meal, completely unaffected by his plot to ruin my life, and Noble’s, and probably my brother’s because why should he be exempt from this torture. “I’m never sure of anything. Do you know why?”

Jason looks at me, bracing himself for what’s coming.

“Because the last person I was sure of, I was completely wrong about. I never thought you would be capable of doing what you did. How could you?”

Jason just stares at me, taking every word he deserves.

“How could you put your hands on her? Put your
dick
in her?” I lower my voice. There’s no need to yell; it’s grotesque without the dramatics.

“I guess you were lying when you said you forgave me,” he says.

“This is what you’re asking me to turn Noble into. A person who no longer believes in anything he’s ever known.”

“What I’m asking has nothing to do with Sinclair. He put himself between us. That’s his problem. He knew I wanted you back the entire time,” Jason says, taking money out and putting it on the table for lunch. “I’m asking you to let yourself be happy. Let yourself believe in me again because I sure as hell know you want to.”

I stand up from the table and start walking. I don’t stop until I get to my car, but as usual Jason is there one step before me, blocking my door.

“You’re making every single day of this nightmare even harder,” I say.

“I think the exact same thing about you. Going home to that
house
every night.” The cruelty of today continues as Jason leans into me and places his lips on mine and some internal sob caves my chest in and steals my breath. He puts his hands above my head, leaning on the Volvo behind me, and separates my lips with his tongue. And I let him. I let him in, in every way. My blood courses through me and throbs everywhere as I give in to what my hands and my mouth and lips have wanted for months. I wrap my arms around his neck and he pulls me to him. I pull his hair and my tongue takes over my thoughts.

I pull away from him. His eyes are ravenous. He will take me right here in this parking lot if I let him.

“It doesn’t change a thing,” I croak out. “You knew all of that before my body told you.”

“I did, but now you know it, too,” he says, and takes the keys from me to drive us home.

Home…

The ride is long and silent. Betrayal sits between us and contemplates how many lives Jason and Charlotte can ruin, their own apparently not enough for them. I lean my head on the cool window and focus on the sky as the almost full moon rises. It’s not even four o’clock yet. The supermoon will be here in a few days. What lunacy will it bestow upon us?

“I love you, Annie,” Jason says, and I never take my eyes off the moon. I never turn to him or acknowledge he spoke. Through with the talking, done with the truth. Let him know everything. Now I want to know nothing.