34. Should Have Said Something
34
SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING
G arrett turned quickly when Justine asked that question.
He’d been making omelets and thinking about how great this morning had been.
Seeing his pill bottle on the counter and her question told him it wasn’t going to be so wonderful.
Not with the look on her face.
One of disappointment, not disgust.
That was worse.
“How do you say that to someone?” he asked.
“Seriously, Garrett? That’s a joke, right?”
He let out a sigh. “It’s not something I talk about much. It was a long time ago.”
“How long?” she asked. “And don’t tell me you don’t want to talk about this because I think we have to. I think it plays a big part in your life, your career, and how you are with patients.”
No one else he’d ever dated understood that, let alone said it.
He was stupid to not bring it up before, but as he said, how did you?
“I was twelve,” he said.
“Oh,” she said, pausing. “That’s rare.”
“It is rare,” he said. “My parents noticed I was tired. I said my neck hurt and my father looked me over, found the lump, and wasted no time to get it tested. It wasn’t huge, early stages. There were decisions to be made.”
“As always,” she said.
His parents had to decide…do they do a partial thyroidectomy, or a full one, and if they should remove lymph nodes with it too.
That was the most aggressive approach and he was young. His life was ahead of him.
Do you go aggressive and hope for the best, or not, and deal later?
“My parents decided at the time it was best to do a thyroidectomy and removed a few lymph nodes. They were clear, but it would reduce the chances of it returning. More surgery than needed, but they were being aggressive due to my age and not taking any chances that something would be missed.”
She nodded. “It’s always hard to know what to do,” she said. “More so when you know the risks.”
“Yes,” he said. “You never think it’s going to happen to yourself, your children, or anyone in your family, but that isn’t realistic.”
“You appear fine now,” she said. “Which doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.”
“I am fine. Been fine for over two decades. I take my meds, and live as healthy of a life as I can, and it’s all you can do. But I know what it’s like to be told I have cancer. I can relate to my patients and, yes, it makes me more sympathetic and understanding to them.”
He knew what his father did for a living.
No twelve-year-old wanted to know if they were going to die.
If he’d have to go through chemo as his father and mother talked about with his father’s patients.
The sickness. Losing his hair.
His friends judging him, or worse yet, pitying him.
“And I think that just puts more on your shoulders too,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How can you say that?” he asked.
“Easily,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “I told you almost immediately that my stepmother killed my father. One might wonder how you say that too.”
She had a point.
“I’ve had women in the past not understand,” he said. “They worried that I’d get sick again. That maybe they’d have to care for me.”
“Are you kidding me?” she asked, her face visibly angry. “Then they weren’t worth your time.”
“No,” he said. “They weren’t.”
“Don’t lump me in with those women,” she said. “I know I run and avoid a lot in my life. But I’d never turn away from that and I’m hurt you’d even think that.”
“I messed up,” he said. “I should have said something.”
Just like he was purposely keeping his meds in the drawer now rather than on the counter where she might have seen them.
He’d consciously made that decision.
“You should have,” she said. “I don’t want you to think I’m snooping either. There was no more toothpaste. I was looking for it and this bottle was next to it. I should have let it go and am not normally nosy, but guess I just glanced at it when I had to take it out for the toothpaste. Maybe you had an ulcer or heartburn and took meds for that. No clue. Not a big deal either. Just like this isn’t.”
“I know,” he said. “It is to me.”
“It shouldn’t be,” she said. “I’m not sure how many times I’ve got to say that you are there for me and yet you don’t want to let me in to be there for you. That’s not a relationship.”
“Do we have a relationship?” he asked. “You’re the one that never wants to talk about things. About the future either.”
Her shoulders lifted and dropped, her body almost vibrating. “You’re going to turn that into this?” she said, pointing to the bottle.
“Yes,” he said. “I am. Maybe in the back of my mind, you’re thinking it’s temporary so I’ve got to weigh how much I should let you in.”
She blinked her eyes a few times and a tear fell. He hated she was crying, but they needed this conversation too.
In his mind it was overdue.
“I don’t know what the future holds,” she said.
“That’s right,” he said firmly. “You can’t think beyond what is happening in your life and that is all you think of. And you want me to be a mind reader and I’m not. Is love enough? I’d like to think it is, but I have no idea because we don’t talk about it. You avoid it.”
She snarled at him. “I’d say right now you’re the one that has been doing the avoiding. First with your neighbor and now with this. At least you were man enough to admit it with Vanessa.”
“Don’t bring that up again,” he said. “I did admit it. I’ll even admit to this, but I told you why. Maybe I’ve been burned enough by people looking at me differently because of it, and because I don’t know where things will lead with us, it could be I didn’t want to put myself out there again. Can you blame me when all you do is talk about having a few months left? And that you don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing?”
“Neither do you,” she said, crossing her arms.
“No, Justine. You’re wrong. I know what I’d like to do. But I’m not making that decision because I don’t want to ruin what we’ve got. I’d have no problem staying here. There, you happy? But if it meant staying here without you or going to Boston where I’ve lived most of my entire life and have a job there to be with you, it’s an easy decision too. I feel like it works either way, but I haven’t wanted to tell you that.”
“Why?” she asked. “It makes no sense.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t win with you. It makes complete sense,” he said. “I don’t want my decision to put pressure on you to make yours. You need to do that yourself. Now you know where I stand and it’s still letting you decide.”
“See, you’re right,” she said. “You told me you’re willing to do either thing. I knew that already.”
“How?” he asked.
“How could I not?” she asked. “You almost wear your heart on your sleeve and yet there are things you clam up tight about and it’s frustrating. We talked about this before. About being there for each other and opening up and it feels it’s one-sided.”
“ You’re frustrated ?” he said. “That’s a joke. You’ve been frustrating me since the minute I met you.”
“That’s rude and hurtful,” she said. “I should leave.”
“Don’t go,” he said.
“I need to,” she said. “Before we say more things to each other we’ll regret.”
She got her shoes to put on, then grabbed her purse, and walked out the door.
He wanted to go after her and knew she was right. They needed time.
It’s just he’d never been someone to walk away from a fight.
As he’d said already, he’d had more frustration since he met her than anything else.
No, not true.
He had love too.
And wondered if he just threw it away.