Chapter 15
To both our heartbreaks, Farrah’s filming schedule moves up, resulting in her having to leave before my chemo starts.
She had the crazy idea of backing out, but I won’t let her.
So now I have no choice but to go with someone else.
My dad is already on the road when we realize all of this and won’t be back for a week.
And the person I want to invite seems inappropriate.
Out of respect for our long-time friendship, I decide to bring Charlie.
“I truly believe hospitals should be painted brighter colors. This is depressing,” I say as we walk through the halls.
After very unhelpful instructions, we have finally found ourselves heading in the right direction.
“I think the kids’ ward is prettier.”
“So adults don’t get to have nice things because we are not as important?” I tsk wagging my finger.
“Maybe the chemo room will be better.”
We walk into the waiting area and are surprised that, so far, it is. I guess just the sections that aren’t important to people are dull.
“Hi, what’s your name?” The nurse behind the desk asks.
“Monty Pierce.”
She offers this smile that is equal parts friendly and sad, acknowledging that there is no good reason for someone to be here.
“Let me bring you back.” She leads us through some doors to a room filled with nail spa-looking chairs. Next to all of them is some equipment and stands for liquid bags.
“This is Nurse Rasheda. She will take care of you from here.”
Seeing a woman who could be one of my aunts puts me a little bit at ease. Her whole aura feels warm as she explains what’s going to happen next.
“Okay, so cell-killing chemicals are about to be sent through my body using an IV?” I say.
“Pretty much,” she says, not sugar coating it.
Charlie pulls up a chair next to me while she inserts the needle.
“Your session is supposed to last four hours. But don’t worry, then after that you don’t have to come back here for four weeks.”
“Four hours?” Charlie asks like he can’t believe that this treatment would be this inconvenient.
“If you can’t stay, that’s fine,” I say.
“No, I can, that just sucks for you, is all.”
Once everything is set up, she leaves us alone. If it were me and Farrah, we would probably start playing Canasta like we have the last few weeks during every dull moment. Charlie can never remember the rules, and playing with him would essentially be cheating.
“Entertain me,” I say, resting my head back.
“I can dance if you like. Go all male stripper in this place.”
“I think that would cheer everyone up.”
He stands up and starts to unzip his sweater, swaying to the sound of the TV station. I don’t try to stop him, as he makes it clear that he has no problem removing more layers.
“Young man,” Nurse Rasheda calls out, stopping him in his tracks. She levels him with a look that says it all, and that’s enough to have him sitting again.
“That was impressive,” I say, clapping my hands.
“Not as impressive as what you will see me do later.”
I hope he means later in the week and not later in the day because I already feel like going to bed. We still have hours left of this, and I can’t imagine how it will be when it’s all said and done.
“Do you want to give me a description?” Still trying to be that vixen that I have always been, I know my heart’s not in it. I haven’t even masturbated since the surgery, and one of the side effects of chemo is a change in libido, so I could go months feeling like this.
He leans in and begins to whisper to me what he would like to do. It involves handcuffs, a choker, and possibly a whip. It sounds like the type of night I would’ve loved before.
I try to look enthusiastic, but even he can see that I’m not into it. He just pats my hand and changes the subject to talk to me about dancing.
Discussing music videos, competitions, and the latest celebrity scandals, he keeps my mind off the uncomfortable sensation of this needle in my arm.
“The last time I was over, your dad showed me some of your recitals when you were younger. I loved the one where you moved out of your spot and took center stage.”
“I got hell for that in class for weeks. Madame Pearl kept trying to put me in the back of the class to teach me a lesson.”
“I get that. My English teachers used to hate me during discussions because I would jump in after every person spoke. I definitely was a know-it-all.” He leans back and puts his arms behind his head, not looking ashamed at all.
If anything, the lift of his lips and his pulled eyes hint at a different emotion entirely.
“Well, look how that turned out for you.”
We talk about books that he has lined up, and before I know it, Nurse Rasheda is coming back to take the IV out of my arm.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
I want to say like shit. I want to say like I’m dying. I want to cry and say I should give up now.
“I’m fine.”
She sighs, clearly not believing me, then gets up to go get the forms I need to sign. I’m grateful for the delay, because I don’t know if I would be able to stand right now.
“Seriously, Monty, are you okay?” Charlie turns my face in his direction. With him being this close, he can see the tears building in my eyes.
My arm is sore. I’m so tired I could fall asleep right now, and I feel nauseous. I don’t know how I even thought about coming to this appointment by myself.
As I fight back the tears and try and stop the dizzy feeling, I have to, for the first time, admit that I might actually need people for this.
My words are watery, which is probably why they slide out of my mouth so easily.
“I don’t know if I can do this on my own.” The statement sounds even worse out loud than it did in my head, but it’s the truth.
This isn’t something I can do alone.
“You don’t have to do it on your own.”
“I know.” I wipe the tears that escape, trying to keep the sniffles in.
“You have me, Monty. I’m right here.”
I want to believe it so bad that, for a moment, I let myself. I think about needing him and relying on him.
“Here we go,” Nurse Rasheda says, coming back.
Happy for the distraction, I take the papers and sign them. When I go to stand, I find my legs a little shaky.
Charlie puts his arm around my waist and takes on most of the weight. He practically carries me to his car and puts me inside.
“I’m going to take you to my place. I don’t think you should be alone.”
I don’t protest.
It’s such a reprieve to have him help me inside and under the covers that I even let him undress me. Fighting against my natural instinct to not allow someone to help me, I give in to it. I let myself see how nice it is to be taken care of for once.
“Get some sleep,” he says, kissing my cheek.
I was already halfway there when he said it.
I jolt up so suddenly, I’m still unsure if I’m awake. The pressure pushing up from my stomach is the only confirmation as I stumble into his bathroom.
Before I can lift the toilet seat, I’m spewing my last week of food into the bowl.
“Shit, Monty.” I hear Charlie run into the room, but I can’t turn my head to look at him, still exorcising my entire insides.
“I don’t know what to do,” he says, sounding just as far away as he did before.
Despite the sickness and the general ache of my body, rage still has a way to overcome me.
“Tell me what to do.”
I want to tell him to go to hell. I want to tell him that I should never have thought that I could rely on him for anything more than good sex. I want to scream at myself for believing that he would be there for me the way I need.
Why should I have to tell him what to do? Why do I have to explain to him how to help me? He hasn’t known how to thus far, and he just proved to me that he never will.
“Leave,” I yell in between hurls.
I don’t know what I expected, but when I hear the door close, I know it’s doing so on the small opening of me considering leaning on someone else.
I throw up until it’s only stomach bile coming out. Still, my throat keeps constricting, causing me to gag and spit.
I want to lie on his floor and die, but I also don’t want to be here at all. Having gotten throw-up on my shirt, I take it off and let the cool tiles calm me a little. I don’t know when I doze off, but I wake up to him knocking on the door.
“Are you still throwing up?”
I don’t answer, so he opens the door.
“I don’t know why you can’t just tell me how to help you.”
“You can help me by taking me home.”
“Monty, you can’t be by yourself.”
“Take me home, Charlie!” I’m well past the point of talking about this.
Just like when I told him to leave, he doesn’t argue with me. He just helps me into the car and takes me back to my dad’s. I wouldn’t have even let him do that, but I’m scared to fall asleep in the back of a cab.
Still too pissed to be reasonable, I refuse to let him help me into the house. He slams his car door, like I’ve done something to him, and then speeds off before I even make it to the porch.
When I close the door behind me, I fall to my knees and crawl to the bathroom. Stripping down to just my panties, I lie on the floor and let everything overwhelm me.
Tears leak down my cheeks, pooling in my collarbone. My breath is ragged and shallow. I still have a hand pressed to my stomach as I fight the urge to spill whatever is left inside of me.
I don’t think there is much of anything left in me, including the ability to care. I could be overreacting, but all it took was one day for him to disappoint me.
I was right when I told my dad that all I need is him and Farrah. I’ll be damned if I change my mind on that again.