Chapter 29
29
Dexter
I’m rushing from the subway station to Janet’s apartment, zigzagging through the sidewalks, narrowly sidestepping a couple arguing about where they should’ve met two hours ago. I’m rushing because I just got off the phone with Charles after he told me Janet is already at home. Not still at the hospital, where I was supposed to meet her and bring her home, but already settled in at the apartment she and Charles share.
Apparently, the doctors decided she was good to discharge early in the morning rather than later, which allowed for Charles to bring her home before he had to go to work.
“Janet! Buzz me up!” I call through the intercom when she finally answers my incessantly impatient press of her buzzer.
“Dex?! What are you doing here?”
“Charles told me you guys got home from the hospital, like, two hours ago,” I practically yell. “Let me up!”
I start to grow frustrated, inwardly smacking the side of my head for having to go into the office this morning when Margaret asked for some reports a day earlier than she had originally requested. I should’ve told her it would have to wait a few hours until I saw Janet home. I should’ve just gone straight to the hospital. I feel like I keep fucking things up. Like every time I want to be there for Janet, she makes do without me. Her guilt in asking me to take her to her chemo sessions and Charles taking over and stepping in because I couldn’t. And now this.
“Uhh…You think you can come back later?” she answers after a beat of hesitation.
My face twists in confusion. “What?! Why?” I ask. I sigh, that frustration inside of me bubbling over. Why the hell is she asking me to come back later? “Janet, just let me up.”
She doesn’t answer me, but the loud buzzing noise sounds through the speaker, along with the light click of the door being unlocked.
Why is she being so weird? I start to worry. Maybe she got some bad news before leaving the hospital. Maybe some test results showed the cancer was worse than she’d thought. Or her prognosis has gone downhill. My worry grows tenfold, and I take the steps two at a time. When I reach her apartment door and knock with about a hundred different scenarios full of more shitty bad news flashing through my mind, there’s shuffling on the other side.
“I’ll be right there!” I hear in a muffled tone. After a few more moments of shuffling and the pitter-patter of steps, the door clicks open with the door chain being pulled taut. Her face peeks through the small opening, and her eyes nervously shift side to side. “Dexter, I thought you weren’t going to be here until after work.”
“No,” I answer, even more confused than when she didn’t want to buzz me up. “I told Charles I took the day off. I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to take care of some things in the office that were a little urgent.”
She still stands there, the door chain slashing a line of gold across her eyes .
“Is Charles at work?”
She nods. She still doesn’t say anything, and now I’m getting really worried.
“Janet, you’re kind of scaring me. Will you open the freaking door, please?”
She sighs deeply before closing the door shut. The soft clicking of locks and chains sound, and the door opens again. Janet looks at me sheepishly, and it’s then I notice the right side of her head is shaved.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She steps aside and lets me in. She doesn’t answer my question but instead walks to the bathroom, where I follow her. I see long locks of hair scattered over the bathroom sink and a set of hair clippers plugged into the outlet.
“I didn’t want anyone to see this,” she says, her gaze on the floor. “But while I was in the hospital, it was just coming out in clumps and…This is just something I need to do on my own.”
My heart wrenches in my chest, and I start to sob. “Janet,” I cry hoarsely.
“Dex, it’s okay.” She reaches for my face and cups my jaw.
“I-I should be spending more time with you,” I hiccup through the sobs I’m failing to hold back while tears start to fall like a damn’s been broken. “Charles is taking on so much, and I can’t even be here to bring you home from the hospital. Or take you to the hospital in the first place. I’m so thankful for Charles, but I’m your family, Jan. Not?—”
“Charles is family, Dex,” Janet interrupts. “He could’ve bailed the second I got sick, but he didn’t. Who does that if not family?” She pauses, taking a deep sigh. “He isn’t going anywhere. I know it sounds a little naive considering there’s no ring on my finger or anything, but he is family.”
She has a point. If Charles has done anything since Janet’s diagnosis, it’s proving his place in her life. Every hour he’s taken away from work to take care of her, staying by her side while she was in the hospital, loving her no matter what. She’s right. He could’ve bailed. Legally, he isn’t tied to her in any way. Aside from this apartment they’ve settled into over the past year and a lingering guilt he may or may not have if he decided to break things off after the shock of his new role as a caretaker, there’s nothing keeping him tied to her. I’m almost glad they aren’t married because if they were, it would be about duty and vows and a silly piece of paper legally linking them together. But he’s here because he truly loves her.
My face softens. I offer a sad smile, and she smiles back.
I stare at the long strands of hair in the sink. It’s everywhere. On the counter, on the floor, on Janet, littered over her shirt and leggings. “You know,” I start, still keeping my eyes on the scattered hairs, “I knew this was coming. I knew there was always going to be a possibility that your hair would fall out and you’d most likely choose to shave it, but…I didn’t think I’d ever be prepared for it.” She strokes her hand on my arm, and I finally look at her. “How are you doing this? How is it that I feel like I’m falling apart and you’re still somehow in one piece?”
“I’m not,” she assures, giving me a gentle squeeze. “I try not to think about it and hope I’m doing the right thing, making the right choices. There are so many days I want to give up. Skip my chemo appointments, avoid my doctor visits.”
My vision goes blurry behind a fresh wave of tears.
“But I’m not ready to die,” she adds. “I want to watch you meet someone and make a family of your own. I want to become crazy Aunt Janet with my messy finger paintings and paper-mache.” She grins, and I can’t help but let out a bubble of laughter at the thought of that life. Me, married with kids, creating a future with someone I actually plan to spend the rest of my life with.
“You’re going to be waiting a long while for that to happen,” I comment, rolling my eyes.
Her brows shoot up. “I don’t think that long.” She peers at me with wide eyes and a silent—yet somehow loud and clear—knowing grin.
I stare at her, a little perplexed. “Lucy?”
“Yes, Lucy. You loser.” She flicks my forehead, and I flinch.
“Janet, don’t?—”
“Don’t what?” she cuts me off. “Don’t start picturing little Dexter Jr. with the perfect woman for you?”
“Janet!”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she scoffs, turning away from me. “If you’re going to keep lying to yourself that there’s nothing going on there, then leave so I can finish this fancy DIY haircut of mine.” She picks up the clippers, taking a deep, cleansing breath, and faces the mirror. I reach in front of her, carefully plucking the clippers out of her hand. She smiles, keeping her back to me, angling the section of hair still untouched in my direction. “Thank you. Getting that backside was a bitch.”
She watches me through the mirror where I stand behind her. But instead of running the clippers through the rest of her hair, I bring the clippers to mine.
“Dex! What the hell are you doing?!”
“Trying out the DIY haircut of yours,” I answer, my focus on my reflection in front of me, where Janet’s shocked face sits in my periphery. The dark, loose strands start to fall from my head and join the rest around us, where I can’t really distinguish which hairs are hers and which are mine. “And once I’m done here, we’re going to finish that whack job you’re doing.”
“Dex…” She starts laughing. Like, really laughing, from deep within her belly. Her giggles sound so light and happy and carefree. And I laugh with her. I smile while the prickly hairs start to tickle my nose and the whirring sound from the hair clippers grows louder. When I shave off the last patches of my hair, I move on to Janet, scolding her to sit still while her shoulders shake through her laughter.
With the scattered locks of hair covering the bathroom floor, Janet and I talk about everything. From her cancer to the various head gear we’re going to be sporting to future travel plans to go back home once Janet’s chemo sessions are finished so we can enjoy the beach again.
I take the final few blocks from the subway station to my apartment, a small smile on my face while running a hand through my short hair. When Charles finally made it back home to Janet, the stunned look on his face confirmed the shock, seeing our matching hairstyles.
The whole thing felt like some sort of cancer right of passage. And for the first time in a long time, I watched Janet feel in control of her body. Like she decided she wanted to shave it all off instead of dealing with leaving strands of her hair all over Manhattan. And I know it sounds weird, considering she no longer has her dark brunette hair she’s had her entire life, but she looks…like herself.
I walk into my apartment and find Lucy on the couch with the hood of a sweatshirt pulled over her head. One that looks a lot like mine. I smirk at the idea of her wearing my clothes, her scent lingering on the fabric and the warmth of her spreading through the fibers. I have a small bouquet of daisies in my hand, something I picked up on the way home because the bright yellow and white flowers reminded me of her.
“Hey,” I call, just as she looks at me over her shoulder .
“He—” Her eyes widen as she takes me in, my new look and the loose trimmings of hair scattered over the front of my T-shirt. “You cut your hair?”
I chuckle, suddenly shy, and pull at the back of my neck. “I went to visit Janet, and she was…uh, she’s been losing a lot of her hair, so…”
“She cut her hair?”
I nod. “Shaved it right off,” I answer. “And I couldn’t let her do it alone.”
She stands from the couch and pads her bare feet in my direction. I haven’t stepped further into the apartment than the entryway, and she lunges herself into my arms, making my back lightly bounce off the closed door behind me. I toss the flowers somewhere, the floor probably, and grip her firmly, nuzzling my nose into her neck.
“You’re amazing. You know that?” she whispers into my ear, making goose bumps trail where her warm breath skirted over.
I smirk. “I don’t know,” I say into her hair. “I think I need to hear it a few more times to believe it.”
She pulls away and hooks her arms around my neck. “You.” A kiss. “Are.” Another kiss. “Amazing.” She kisses me again, but this time doesn’t pull away. Instead, our lips tangle together, and my arms circle around her waist.
“That’s pretty convincing.” My lips start to travel down her neck, and she tilts her head back, her skin vibrating as a low moan hums in her throat. “How was your day?” I say into her soft skin.
“Better now.” Her hands smooth down my chest to my stomach, reaching for the bottom hem of my shirt. God, the things I want to do to this woman.
I lead her backward, our feet clumsily finding their way to the couch, where we both fall onto the cushions. My hand curls behind her, under her hoodie—or my hoodie—and I dissolve into a puddle of bliss when I don’t feel a restrictive bra strap in the middle of her back. Just her silky skin.
“We’re still taking things slow, right?” I whisper against her lips .
She nods. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” I pull away to look at her, and a desperate whimper, almost like she’s protesting something, slips through her lips. “I know technically we’ve…you know, had sex,” she says breathlessly, her fingers trailing along the metal clasp of my jeans.
“Okay,” I answer when she pauses.
“But you said it wasn’t ‘just sex’ for you,” she continues, her chest rising and falling against mine. “And I feel like it wouldn’t be ‘just sex’ for me this time around. And I don’t think it would be a good idea to do that when…”
“Okay,” I agree, my hand moving to her stomach now, where it trails along the bumpy ridges of her ribcage. She draws in a sharp intake of breath.
“Yeah?” A soft sigh ends her one-worded question, making her words lack the resolve they should have. I thumb her nipple, rolling it between my fingers, and she grinds her hips into me.
“Yes. Absolutely.” I give a light pinch at the same time she dips her tongue in my mouth, taking a long, silky sweep. She withdraws, nibbling on my lip, and my growing erection presses into the soft space between her legs.
“Yeah,” she adds. “So…it would probably be a smart thing to stop.”
“Probably.”
“In fact, I should probably just take a cold shower.”
I stop kissing her. “Is that an invitation?”
She laughs, her shoulders bouncing as she nuzzles her face into my shoulder. “I swear, it’s like telling a toddler he can’t have any candy.”
I shrug and smirk. “I mean, I need a shower anyway, and we would be saving water,” I comment, trying my best to appear indifferent.
“Dexter,” she whines, pressing a gentle, assuaging kiss on my cheek.
I sigh. “Okay,” I answer with a soft, teasing pinch to her waist. “Go shower. I’ll go grab some dinner. ”
She pouts a little and pushes her palms into my stomach. I can tell she feels bad about the situation we’ve just lodged ourselves into. One that feels sort of like an impasse or even a crossroads where no matter what we choose, consequences will be the death of us.
“It’s fine, Luce,” I assure her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Really.”
“We’re good?” she asks.
I place a small peck to the corner of her mouth. “Of course.”