16. Ben
ben
. . .
I t’s been two weeks and I already want to give up. My house is sterile, and it feels weird to be there. I know why Elle did what she did, but I hate being home. There’s a live in . . . well, I don’t know what to call him. He cleans up after me. It doesn’t matter what I do, he’s behind me. If I go to the bathroom, he comes in right after me and cleans the toilet. If I change my clothes, he washes my other ones immediately. I know it’s to protect me from these fucking drugs running through my system, but I feel like a freak, and I hate it.
This is my off week. My week to rest and rejuvenate if that’s even possible. I don’t want to leave the house, and I don’t want anyone here. Except for Elle. She seems to be the only one to understand I need space. She works in the office, while I sit on our balcony and stare at the water, wondering how long it would take to swallow me whole. Elle checks on me for food or if I want some company, and then goes back to work. Honestly, I think she’s writing a book or streaming shows on her laptop because I don’t know how she’s getting any work done. She should be out scouting for talent and signing new artists, but she’s here, by my side. At first, I thought of her as a babysitter, but she’s more than that. She’s my voice when I feel like I don’t have one, and as much as I hate to admit it, I need her. Yet, I feel like I have nothing to offer her.
There’s a small knock behind me and I turn my head slightly, but not enough to see who it is. I know it’s Elle by the lightness in the way she tapped her knuckles against the glass. She takes the seat next to me and sighs. The sun is starting to take a bit longer to set these days. Back when I chased after Elle, this was my favorite time of the year, when the sun would stay out as long as possible. I always felt like once I went to sleep, my quest to make her mine would have to start all over again, like that movie 50 First Dates with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. Adam’s character, Henry, was in love with Drew’s character Lucy, only she had a traumatic brain injury and her memory reset every day. Each day, Henry would reintroduce himself to Lucy and try to win her over. That’s how I felt about Elle. Each day was a new challenge, and once she realized she was in love with me, I never wanted to let her go.
I reach for her hand and intertwine our fingers together. I love her but haven’t told her in a while. Those words don’t seem to hold the weight they used to or maybe it’s vice versa. Now, if I tell her, it’ll be because I feel like I’m dying. I’m not as optimistic as she is. I can’t manifest happiness. Right now, everything is gloom. My world is gray. It’s bleak. I know I’ll get worse before I get better, but I don’t know how much more I can take. My body hurts. I’ve lost weight, my hair is falling out, I can’t eat because food is disgusting, and when I shower, I can’t help but touch the part of me that’s missing. My sack is empty and that makes me feel meaningless, like I’m no longer a man.
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
I shake my head. “I’m not feeling very well,” I tell her. This isn’t an excuse, but fact. I feel warm, but I’m freezing. It’s eighty out and I should be sweating, but my teeth chatter instead.
“Is everything okay . . . besides the obvious?” I huff at the last part of her statement. She started adding this after I vomited my guts out for the first time. Of course, her handy dandy cleaner was right behind me, sterilizing the bathroom.
“I don’t know. I feel off.”
“What can I do to help?” she asks, but I just shake my head. “Ice cream? There’s a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer with our names on it.”
“What kind?”
“Chocolate chip cookie dough.”
“Okay.” The sound of ice cream actually sounds good right now, even though I’m cold. Elle tells me she’ll be right back and when she returns, she has two bowls in her hands and gives me one of them. Before cancer, we’d share the pint, but now I have to be careful about bodily fluids. Before cancer, we’d eat the entire pint in one sitting, but now I get a scoop. If I finish it, I’ll be happy.
“Did you know Ben & Jerry’s came out with cookie dough bites? You can get them in the freezer section of the store. They make for a great snack on a road trip or something to have around the house when you want something sweet, but don’t want to bake cookies.”
“When’s the last time you baked cookies?”
Elle laughs. “Christmas, I guess.”
“Sorry I wasn’t there.”
“It’s okay. Maybe we’ll go back this year.”
“It’s not okay, Elle. None of this is okay. I don’t know why you’re even here. I wouldn’t be if I were you.”
“Where’s all of this coming from, Ben?”
I set my barely eaten ice cream onto the table between us. “I treated you like shit, and you’re here, taking care of me. I’ve said some really mean things to you, and yet you never gave up.”
“Ben?”
“I’m dying, Elle. I can feel it. I’m supposed to remain positive and have a sunny outlook about this situation, but I don’t. I picture the cancer ravishing my body and taking over like the parasite it is. I can’t stop thinking the worst is going to happen. I can’t help but think that if I had gone on the trip to Vermont, none of this would’ve happened to me.”
“You think this is some type of karma?” she asks.
I nod. “If I wasn’t so selfish and demanding?—”
“You stop that right now, Benjamin Miller. This pity party for one doesn’t have a reservation. You didn’t get cancer because of karma or because you didn’t go on the Christmas trip. You got cancer because of who knows what. Not because you didn’t take a trip or because you called off our wedding. You were right to do that, Ben. I was putting my career before everything. My desire to build a successful business and the fear of letting people down blinded me from what was most important—you. I’m not going to make that mistake ever again.”
Elle stands in front of me and cups my cheeks. “You’re the love of my life, Ben. My best friend, my perfect companion. You are my sun. My moon. My everything. I am right where I want to be.”
“You want to care for an invalid?”
“You’re far from an invalid, Ben. You’re sick and your treatment drains any energy you have. Once it’s done, you’ll be the same Ben as you were before.”
“Minus—”
“Yes, I know, minus your balls.” She rolls her eyes and grins.
The way she says it makes me laugh. I know I harp on not having them, but when you’re used to them being there, you notice these things. Knowing the way I feel, I can’t imagine how a breast cancer survivor feels.
“I love you, Ben. I hope you know this here.” She places her hand on my heart. “I am right where I want to be. We’re in this battle together.”
“I love you too.”
“Good, now let’s talk about the negative outlook you have.” Elle doesn’t chastise me for the outlook I have but makes me promise to try and change the way I see things, especially in my mind. Instead, she wants me to play Star Wars or whatever game I want with the tumor and pretend to battle it. I know she means well, but she’s never seen a single Star Wars movie and has no idea what she’s talking about. Still, she’s cute for trying.
It’s the middle of the night when I reach for her. “Elle.”
“What is it?” she asks, her voice groggy with sleep. We share a bed, but not blankets, and I sleep on a mattress pad. Something that can be thrown out if it gets soiled.
“Something’s wrong.”
She turns the bedside lamp on and looks at me. “Where?”
“Inside. I don’t know, I can’t explain it. Something’s not right. I hurt all over and I have a fever.”
“Okay,” she’s out of bed and on her phone before I realize she’s called for an ambulance. It’s probably safer this way, instead of driving in the middle of the night, plus I can get medical attention much faster. “The ambulance is on its way. Do you want to get dressed?”
Elle helps me sit up, but it’s as far as I make it. Every muscle in my body hurts to move and I’m too weak to stand up. Red lights flash outside, and Elle goes to meet the crew. I can hear my mother yelling, acting as if I’m mortally injured. Her wailing is a nuisance. She beats the paramedic into the bedroom and all but throws herself at me.
“Mom, stop.” She bumps into my arm where my port is, and I cry out.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the medic says as he assesses my vitals. He asks me questions, checks the dressing over my port, and finally helps me stand. I buckle against him, but he holds me upright. He’s strong, where I am weak.
Elle’s by my side, dressed and with a duffel bag thrown over her shoulder. “Going somewhere?” I ask her, weakly.
“I’m going with you,” she tells me.
“I’m coming too. So’s Brad,” my mom says.
“No, just Elle. I only want her.” Thankfully, I can’t see my mom’s expression, but I can see Elle’s. She’s grateful. I reach for her hand, and she gives hers freely until it’s time to move me to the ambulance. “Can she ride with me?”
“Of course,” the medic says, as he straps me to the stretcher.
Once I’m inside, Elle climbs in and sits next to the medic. This tin box is equipped with everything, and if I wasn’t strapped to the bed, I’d push and pull on every gadget all while saying, “what’s this do?” Surely, I’d get my hand slapped.
The lights stay on, but thankfully there isn’t a siren. This means I’m not dying. Just really fucking sick. The medic hooks me up to a couple of machines, and they start beeping. Believe it or not, the sound is soothing, and I close my eyes.
I jostle awake and find Elle standing outside of the ambulance. She walks next to me, with her bag slung over her shoulder and stays with me until I’m put into a room. Two nurses come in and one asks me a couple of questions, while another one draws my blood and hooks me up to a bag of saline. When they leave, Elle comes into the room.
“I hate this place.”
“I don’t believe anyone is a fan of hospitals, Ben.”
“Except for the people who work here.”
“This is true.”
After what feels like an hour, and after I’ve had some X-rays, the on-call doctor stops by to visit. “Hey Ben, I’m Dr. Wilder. I looked over your blood work and it looks like you’ve got an infection in your intestines. We’re going to keep you here for a bit and give you some fluids and antibiotics and see how you respond.”
“Does this mean the cancer has spread?” I ask him.
“Not at all. Just means there’s a pesky germ out there and you caught it. You’ll be good to go in no time.” While he’s talking, the nurse comes in and adds a bag to my IV, and just like that, they start mending me. Before Dr. Wilder can leave, an orderly comes and moves us to a private room. It’s nice and dark, but the blinds are open and from this floor, there’s a beautiful view of the city.
Elle goes to close the curtains, but I tell her to leave them open. “Come lie with me.”
She does as I ask and makes sure there’s an extra layer of blanket between us. The last thing I want to do is expose her to the chemo drugs.
We lie there, looking out the window.
“From here, the city looks peaceful.”
“That’s because most people are sleeping,” she says.
“You should go back home.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not leaving your side.”
I hug her a little tighter. “You’d rather be here than with my mother. I can’t say I don’t blame you. She really needs to go.”
“It’s your call.”
“Brad and her talk about money all the time. I think they’re going to ask you for a loan.” Elle stiffens in my arms. “If either of them does, you tell them no. Don’t give them a single cent. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“I want to go home, Elle.”
“I know, Ben. You won’t be here long.”
“No, I want to go back to Beaumont. I want to be away from the city, and just be home.”
Elle sits up and looks at me. “What are you saying?”
I play with a long strand of her hair. “Will you take me back to Beaumont?”
She nods. “Of course. I’ll arrange for everything.”