Chapter 9
Best to rip the Band-Aid off . Jamie knew if she didn’t tell Etta soon, she would put it off until she was on her second round of chemo and tell people she was “just a little under the weather,” praying they believed her bullshit.
There was only one good opportunity. Etta had scheduled her first day off in forever for that Sunday, so Jamie arranged a home-cooked meal that Saturday night. She gave Beatrice and Harris the night off so she could have the most privacy possible with her girlfriend.
Because this would be wild.
Nothing had come simple to Jamie since she entered the mental feedback loop of Is it possible I have cancer?
Why! and this included cooking. Fine idea to cook Etta dinner.
Quite another to attempt something as simple as baked chicken.
Knives slipped from her shaking hands. Fruits and vegetables shot to the floor when she wasn’t looking.
The oven refused to preheat – and then tried to nuke the chicken to the sun.
Jamie salvaged it before it got too dry, then overcompensated with seasoning.
When she tasted the chicken, she had to spend the next ten precious minutes attempting to de-season it.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
Etta would come home tired but hopeful for a day off.
She had been interviewing potential partners all week.
Taking them out to grand lunches and dinners.
Running them by Monique, who was as busy as ever with her own life.
Even running them by the likes of Helen and other important people like Kennedy Anderssen, Donovan Mathison, and Silas Allen.
People who had worked with everyone in the business world.
Because Etta was not partnering up with someone who didn’t have the experience and references to back themselves up.
A million scenarios ran through Jamie’s head, from Etta shrugging it off to sobbing to accusing her of being cruel and lying.
Since she knew her girlfriend well enough by now, Jamie also knew the first scenario was unlikely to happen, especially when she was already stressed out.
So, this meant Jamie’s hyperactive imagination and hormonal paranoia sent her into overdrive imagining the latter scenario, where she was clawing on Seena or Natasha’s door and crying because she had cancer and was abandoned.
And her therapist! That poor woman!
Was this normal? Her brain was nothing but “exit plans.” What would she do if Etta abandoned her? What would she do if she had no money? What would she do if she had nowhere to live? Don’t do this to yourself. Etta would never… dump her without compensation. Etta was generous with compensation.
The sun had set outside the panoramic windows in the kitchen by the time Jamie set the dining room table with candles and a bouquet from the garden.
A kitten ran underfoot, batting around a grape he got from God knew where.
Beatrice liked the cats, but she often complained that this one in particular was always in the kitchen getting into shit.
Who knew where Barbarossa was? Staying far from the children because she’s a staunch, spayed spinster.
Jamie lit the candles the moment Etta texted she was five minutes away. “Looking forward to your dinner,” was the last thing she said. Jamie irrationally hoped that it wouldn’t be the last nice thing she said.
“Where’s Harris?” That was the first thing Etta asked when she came through the front door. The butler was usually there to help her with her things. “This house feels empty…”
“I gave them the night off.” Jamie brushed something off her coat before taking Harris’s place. Etta eyed her suspiciously, turning around and letting Jamie help take off her large coat. “Just you and me tonight.”
“I didn’t realize you had that sort of authority around here,” Etta said.
Even though she knew that was her usual humor, Jamie still clammed up. “Well… it’s my place too.”
“Indeed, it is. What’s for dinner? I made sure to save room.”
Jamie led her to the dining room, where Etta brusquely made comments about the candlelight and the romantic atmosphere it cast. She sat in her usual chair and picked up a fork. Jamie barely had time to bring out the gravy from the kitchen before Etta was already eating.
If she thought it was mediocre, she didn’t say.
Not that she didn’t say anything at all.
Quite the contrary. Etta was a bigger chatterbox than usual, going on about the incompetent investors at her meeting that morning and a big fuckup that occurred when Amanda lost some important papers and Natasha had to bend over backward to retrieve them – while still doing her usual job.
Etta didn’t say it in any way that implied she had to fire her assistant, but she was not pleased, and Amanda found out the hard way.
Jamie nearly choked on her chicken.
“What?”
“It’s just… that usually means you spank ‘em.”
Etta scoffed. “You know it’s not like that.”
“I know. I’m just saying.”
“Anyway, then I had lunch with a potential partner…”
Jamie barely had time to talk about herself.
Funny. The one time she didn’t want Etta to dominate the dinner conversation, and she wouldn’t shut the hell up.
She was hardly animated, and it took her forever to eat her dinner because she talked so much, but apparently, Etta had built up a treasure trove of topics to hash out with her girlfriend.
Suffice it to say, that finding the opportunity to tell her the weird news did not come easy.
Jamie had to turn to other tactics, like silencing Etta when she slid her hand over her knee and brushed against her thigh.
Etta stopped what she was saying mid-sentence and regarded Jamie with a cool disposition.
“You trying to tell me something?” She cracked a smile. “Oh, is that what this dinner is about? Well, I guess we haven’t done anything special recently. I’m sorry about that.”
Jamie shook her head. “It’s all right. There was the wedding, then I was sick…”
“Are you feeling better?”
“Feeling? I suppose…” Was this her opportunity? Her hand searched for Etta’s to squeeze. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to tell you…”
“Remind me to email a guy named Gerald later. I need to thank him for setting up my lunch today, though that guy is not compatible with me at all. Maybe I could get another lead…”
“It’s rather serious.”
“Oh, fuck it. I’ll go do it right now.” Did Etta not hear her? Apparently not, because she got up, piled her silverware and napkin on her empty plate, and patted Jamie on the shoulder on her way by. She disappeared, going upstairs to her office computer and leaving Jamie with the dirty dishes.
Good thing she didn’t want something actually romantic tonight! Good thing she wasn’t bored and needy. Good thing she wasn’t scared or something! Jamie tossed her napkin onto the table and let out a grunt of disapproval.
After doing the dishes, Jamie found Etta in her office, talking business on the phone.
Was she or was she not taking some time off? Or did it not count until Sunday?
Etta kept herself busy for the rest of the night.
When she wasn’t on the phone, she was writing emails and making copies in her office.
Jamie tried to open dialogue more than once, but Etta was so absorbed that the only way to get through to her was by jumping her bones. That would send the wrong message.
On the other hand, it might get her to relax enough to listen. Would it be better to tell her after they had sex? Sigh.
Etta had the nerve to take a shower without inviting Jamie.
She stewed in the bedroom, going over what she would say even more, editing things here and there to the point she sounded like a robot.
“Ms. Etta Coleman. I have cancer. Please do not throw me out. Thank you.” Jamie plucked her cat off the bedroom floor and gave her an unwelcomed squeeze to soothe the soul.
The moment Etta popped out of the bathroom, looking for sweats and a shirt to wear to bed, Jamie dropped the cat and…
Ran into the bathroom. She had lost her nerve.
This is why I needed to tell her earlier! Jamie knew this would happen. She knew she would make a fool of herself. Jamie undressed and used what hot water there was left right after Etta’s long shower.
The moment she cracked open the bathroom door after her shower, she heard Etta on the phone. Again.
Something welled in the corner of her eyes. Jamie refused to cry.
She still couldn’t think of it as a death sentence.
Okay, she could think cancer. Cancer was medical.
It was logical. It had steps to take to ensure being cured.
Aftermath, though? That was a whole different galaxy.
The implications were emotional and impractical.
I could be fucked up for the rest of my life.
As for the infertility, Jamie finally realized why that made her lose her shit.
What if I want to be a mom one day? Jamie had never thought that far ahead.
When she got with Etta, she was still in her mid-20s and figuring things out.
And while Etta had said nothing committal about having their own kids, Jamie knew one thing – Etta was infertile and wouldn’t have wanted to ever be pregnant.
Until that moment, Jamie could have said the same thing about herself.
Wasn’t it something, how feelings changed once a choice was ripped from one’s grasp?
“Fuck,” she sighed. How did one tell her girlfriend that she might have cancer? At this rate, she would have to send smoke signals. Or a text. The only way to communicate with Etta Coleman was to get into her phone, her real mistress.
Jamie was resigned to waiting another day. Maybe they could have sex. It had been a while since they really went for it. Jamie threw on her baggiest T-shirt and shortest shorts. This was her personal hell. Watch it hurt again. That’s my favorite symptom so far…