Chapter 43
brODY
W ith a deep exhale, I tap my fingers against the arm of the suede chesterfield armchair beneath me, sinking into the tufted cushion. My other hand fidgets with the crucifix in my pocket, removed from its chain.
I never thought that I would sit in this chair again.
I was done. I’ve told myself that a thousand times.
I would never sit in this room, in this chair, smelling the same chlorine disinfectant that forcefully burned itself into my memory, feeling the same fear that stole too many nights’ sleep from me.
The images pulled up onto the screen in front of me look only slightly different to each other, but that slight difference is the key.
That slight difference is life-altering.
“It’s nothing,” I clarify.
“It is definitively nothing,” the man sitting across from me says with a nod. “It was likely nothing more than a minor infection or a bit of artifact. Your labs are normal and your scan is clean – which we could have discovered sooner if you’d come in when I called you months ago.”
He’s half-joking, but the part of him that isn’t joking is right, and I know that. Instead of making a phone call and having my fears squashed, I lied to my best friend, I lied to my brother, and I lied to myself, trying to pretend that I’d never heard the word ‘abnormal’ and that I hadn’t already accepted the fate that I was sure was coming for me.
Pulling my hand from my pocket, I slide my palms over my thighs with another exhale as I lean forward, eventually resting my forehead against the heels of my hands.
“We should do a—”
“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “You show no evidence of disease. Go home, Mr. Montgomery.”
I sit in silence for a moment, giving myself space to process my racing thoughts the best that I can before I nod. Pushing myself to a standing position, I extend a hand to shake his, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.
I’d spent the drive to the oncology office considering the ways that I would tell Nia not only that I was sick again, but that I’ve known and kept it from her.
I’d thought about the way that Isla would pick up the nearest high heel and throw it at my head for lying to her.
I’d thought about the wail that would come out of my mother when I told her that I’d let it go on for too long without intervention, and that I wouldn’t be getting any.
As I cruise down the street and away from the thing that scared me the most to face, my mind is quiet. The air is crisp and refreshing as I breathe it in through my cracked-open window. Almost every traffic light that I pass is green.
I’m not sure that I realized how heavy the fear had become to carry.
Nia is already waiting on her driveway when I pull onto it, reaching over to open the passenger side door for her. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her middle as she walks toward the car, cozying herself into her thick sweater.
“How was your meeting?” She asks as she climbs inside to settle onto the heated seat.
I reach over to grab her firmly by the throat, pulling her toward me to press a kiss to her lips.
“It went very well,” I tell her with a smile. “I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.”
My hand rests at her knee, absently trailing along her thigh as we get back onto the road together.
I’m sure that I could tell her the truth. I could tell her that the only reason that I spoke with her about changing my mind was because of my last scan, and that the only reason I followed up on it was her and the idea of losing our future together, but I don’t.
This is something that I can keep to myself. I won’t worry her until I have to, and I’ll just have to hold onto the hope that I never have to.
“I’m so excited,” she titters. “I haven’t done this since Keith took me to get me to like him. Have you ever gone?”
“I took Graham a few times when he was younger,” I answer. “He was always better at it than I was, though.”
As we pull into the parking lot of the skating rink, I watch in my peripheral as Nia’s eyes light up. Her body straightens and her hand reaches for her door handle, to which I respond by gently tugging at the chain around her neck in warning.
It takes nearly half an hour for us to get through the line of people waiting to get inside the rink and get their skates before we make it in, and it annoys me until I catch Nia lighting up again. Even as we slip into our skates and walk with something between a stomp and a waddle toward the ice, she wears a wide smile.
I’m only slightly more steady on my feet than Nia is as we very slowly work our way across the ice. I haven’t been here in over a decade, and it shows, but I don’t care.
Instead of worrying about how incredibly stupid we look or how terrible we both are at this, I make a mental note for myself to bring her here every fall, as soon as it opens and as many times as she wants to come.
I wear a smile as I watch Nia twirl and glide across the ice, more than occasionally dropping harshly onto her ass. Two hours of laughter and failure fly past us, and all that I can think about is how much I love her and how glad I am to be here for this.
How glad I am that I won’t miss the next time.
“Do you think they make skating clogs? ” Nia asks, bending down to massage her heel through her boot as we approach the front door of her house. “My feet haven’t been this sore since my first twelve.”
I let out a laugh and pull her ridiculous keyring from her hand, wrapping an arm around her waist to toss her over my shoulder.
“Brody!” She shouts with a laugh, smacking me on the back as I carry her into the house.
We make a quick stop at the medicine cabinet for a bottle of ibuprofen before I cart her up the stairs and into her bedroom, dropping her onto the mattress.
“Take this,” I tell her, handing her the bottle of pills. “No arguments.”
Her brow arches at me in a challenge as she dispenses two tablets into her hand, not breaking eye contact as she tosses them both into her mouth.
“I need water,” she tells me with her words distorted by the pills sitting on her tongue, crossing her arms over her middle. “I can’t swallow pills dry.”
As she moves to stand, I grasp firmly around her throat, keeping her in place as I force her mouth to open.
“Fine,” I shrug, just before leaning closely to her to spit into her mouth, “use that, then, if you’re going to give me attitude about it.”
Keeping her eyes on mine, she obediently swallows down the pills, sticking out her tongue afterward to show me that she’s completed the task I assigned her. The corner of my mouth ticks up in satisfaction as I stroke my thumb along the length of her jaw.
“Good girl,” I tell her. “Now don’t move.”
In an act of what can only be described as aggressive compliance, her body becomes nearly as stiff as that of a statue. She goes so far as to hold her breath and force herself not to blink, and it’s almost enough to force a laugh out of me – almost.
Moving to her dresser, I dig through the drawers to find her favorite baggy college t-shirt and a pair of heavy sweatpants. I pull a thick pair of socks from another drawer and make my way back toward the statue of what looks an awful lot like a brat waiting for me on Nia’s bed, dropping onto the mattress next to her.
“I believe that, as a medical professional, you’re aware of the importance of oxygen,” I tell her as I reach to pull her feet onto my lap. When I angle my head to look at her, her lips pinch tightly together as she stifles a laugh, and I offer a shake of my head as I slip her boots from her feet.
Hooking a finger beneath her collar, I pull her toward me. We hold one another’s gaze for several moments before she finally closes the distance between us, pressing her lips against mine in a quick kiss.
I reach for the button of her jeans as her arms drape themselves over my shoulders, working down the zipper so that I can slide off them off of her legs.
“You know I can dress myself, right?” She snarks as I lift her sweater over her head.
“Oh look,” I tease, “she speaks.”
A smile fights its way to her lips as I replace her clothing with the more comfortable options that I collected for her. She doesn’t fight me, because as much as she likes to tease, she also enjoys being doted on.
“Do you know what would make the perfect end to today?” She finally asks as we stand and make our way toward the stairs.
“A full tray of Ham’s brownies, the recipe for which I asked him to send over this morning?” I counter.
“And…?”
“ The Notebook ,” I chuckle.
Arms snake around my middle to hold onto my tightly as we trek down the stairs, and I can feel Nia’s face pressed into my back as we move.
We spend one very messy hour in the kitchen making a tray of brownies together, not letting them cool or cutting into them when they’re finished. Instead, we take the entire thing into the living room, using a pair of oven mitts to keep the heat from damaging the coffee table as we use forks to scoop pieces from the tray.
Graham would be absolutely horrified by the dessert destruction that we leave behind.
Nia makes it nearly a full hour into the movie before her body slackens against mine, her breaths coming out in soft huffs that tell me she’s fallen asleep. With half of a tray of brownies and half of the movie left, I gently brush her hair away from her face, using my free hand to stroke soothing lines into her back.
My life looks very different now from what I expected, and I mean that in a very different way than I expected to.
I’d spent my life living in a fear that I’d become so used to, I’d become unaware of the weight that it carried over me. I can only begin to imagine the things that I’ve forced myself to miss out on because I’d been so scared that it would all be taken away, anyway.
That I would inadvertently hurt people if I let myself get too close to them.
That I’d hurt myself.
I’d become complacent in my father’s control over not only myself, but my entire family.
Maybe a part of me had given up.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I can see myself planning a future, and I can see myself actually living in it.
I plan to run with that.