The waiter had seated us beside a window, and as I looked outside, I saw moonlight gleaming off the ocean. In that second, I wanted to be back at the beach house, far away from Gary and Debra. I closed my eyes and thought of Tyler’s face, his laugh, his hands.
“..do much,” Debra said as I opened my eyes and focused back on the conversation. She looked down at her lap as she unfolded a scarlet napkin and laid it across her lap. “I’ll just be glad to get back home.”
Gary’s hand touched my thigh with a soft, reassuring pat, as if I had spoken, not his mistress. “Yeah, I think we all know that feeling.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gary staring at me. I didn’t have to face him to know his expression. After four years of marriage, I knew his lips would be slightly pursed. His eyebrows would tug downward slightly, frowning without emotion. He would blink a few times, waiting for me to respond, and when I didn’t, he’d find some other words to say.
“Have you spoken to your mother about Aaron?” he asked as his hand dropped away from my leg.
Nodding, Debra replied, “He’s doing fine. He misses me and says he has lots of neat pictures for me to hang on the bulletin board at work.” She tilted her head back and brushed her shoulder-length hair over her shoulders.
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you,” I said, sipping my wine.
Not that you’re completely unwelcome here. Gary always likes to see you.
Gary stared at my hand, the one holding the glass. “Should you be drinking that, considering your medication?” he asked in a quiet voice. His hand touched my leg again, the fingers holding about as much passion as if I my leg had been a rolled-up newspaper.
I lied, smiling pleasantly. “I’ll be fine.” I felt his fingers squeeze, reminding me to set the glass down. The forced upturn of my lips flattened to a line and I continued holding the glass and took another sip.
Gary softly sighed, and again his hand dropped away. A waiter appeared and took our orders, saving the three of us from small conversation. Once he’d disappeared, Gary said, “Kelly, I’ve got something I wanted to give you.” He looked at me and held out a grey velvet box. I stared at it, and chills trickled down my arms. Had I never witnessed my husband kissing Debra, I might have believed him to be all the things I had wanted. I might have believed this little dinner was an act of charity. I might have even believed this little box held some small image of a love for me that was too limitless to express. Instead, I recognized guilt and pity. It had come wrapped in little boxes often enough these past few months.
I smiled and fumbled as I picked it up, feeling the prick of tears burning my eyes. A stranger might have said I’d been so touched by this act, but I felt weighted down by the small diamond and pearl earrings when I opened the box. Taking a deep breath, I tried to clear my throat of the enormous lump. Another gift. Different jewelry, same guilt. “They’re beautiful.”
Gary leaned over and kissed my cheek as he whispered, “So are you, love.” He reached across the table and grasped my hand, squeezing softly.
“Diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” Debra said, looking down at her watch. “After all, they last forever.” She stood and brushed the wrinkles from her dress. “Excuse me.” She walked away.
Gary looked away from me, toward Debra’s back. His lips tightened into a sharp frown, and I recognized the blatant anger she had aroused. I half-expected him to follow her exit cue, but he remained sitting beside me. Gary peered at my lobes and said, “Well, I’m in luck. You’re not wearing any. Put them on.” I started to protest, but his fingers had freed them from the velvet lining before I could say anything. He dropped them into my hand.
With trembling fingers, I put them on. I felt the pearls and thought of the ocean and then of the tumors. Salt water pooled in my eyes and streamed down my face, despite the awful blinking.
Gary reached up and lightly wiped away the tears. “Looks like you’re leaking, babe.” He leaned toward me and brushed his lips across my cheek. “I love you,” he whispered.
I cleared my throat, which allowed me to avoid a like response. My fingers curled into fists, and the tightening in my chest began to hurt. Once it would’ve been enough to know that he loved me. Once it would’ve pulled me through anything, it would have made me feel safe. But I had lost once.
“You’re so quiet. Are you feeling all right?” he asked, leaning back enough so that he could see my face. He was trying to read the lines and shadows as thought they were part of a new language he hadn’t studied.
Yeah,
I thought.
They’re ruins.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “Just a little tired.
Gary nodded and relaxed against the back of his chair as the waiter brought our food. I looked at the shrimp and baked potato and felt nauseated. My stomach lurched. I also peered at the salad and quickly decided that was a much safer bet. I picked up my fork and took a bite of lettuce, then cut up the steak and pushed the potato around a bit just to make it appear I had actually eaten some. The illusion must have worked because by the end of the meal Gary, who always noticed a full plate, said nothing about my lack of appetite.
Debra returned and sat down without looking at either of us. But Gary glared at her, his dark eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to gain the attention she refused to give. We all said very little, and an uncomfortable silence flourished until we arrived back at the hotel and Debra went to her own room.
Before I lay down, I went to the window and opened it. The hotel wasn’t near the beach, but I wanted to believe that if I just imagined, I could hear the ocean. I wanted to smell the saline air. Lingering by the window, I stared at the sky spread like dark gossamer. At that moment I wished I had just one thing that certain in my life. Just one thing to guide me toward whatever future I had.
“You look pretty tired, Kelly. Why don’t you come to bed?” Gary turned down the comforter and patted the sheets beside him. “You really need your rest.”
Too fatigued for argument, I walked to the bed and sat then took off the earrings and put them on the nightstand beside the shell Tyler had given me. I lifted it to my ear and tried to hear the ocean’s roar echoing from within. As I held the shell, I thought of Tyler and the difference between his gift and Gary’s. They’d both came from the ocean, but one was priceless and one had no worth. For just a moment, I stared at the earrings and ran my fingertips over the smooth pearls. Then I changed into my nightgown and lay down. As I closed my eyes, reaching for sleep, Gary sat up and watched television. Even with the volume turned down, I could tell he was flipping through the channels, hardly pausing. He was looking for something besides commercials.
“Kelly, are you asleep?” Gary whispered. He pushed the power button and turned off the television. In the darkness, I reached for the distant sound of ocean waves.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I lay completely still, feigning sleep. It was easier than talking about this or trying to understand what had gone so drastically wrong between us.
“Damn, it’s cold.” He stood up and walked to the window. With a deft tug, he closed it and sealed my only connection to the ocean. The room sounded of too much silence. Then he walked back to the bed and tucked the covers more tightly around my body.
“I’m sorry I let you down, Kel.” His hand touched the back of my head, his fingers whispering through my hair. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I wish I could take it back, but I’m not being given that choice, am I?”
My whole body ached from the stillness, and I wanted him to define “any of this” because I didn’t know what he felt guilty for. The affair? The cancer? The life we thought we were going to lead but hadn’t? I focused on the coverings, the way my skin felt pressed against softness.
“Sleep tight, angel,” he whispered and bent to kiss me.
Somehow, deep inside, I think he knew a storm was coming. He felt the breeze stirring the ocean, the waves that would destroy the fragments of our marriage once and for all. And that frightened Gary more than the cancer ever could have.
Chapter Five
The annoying beep of the alarm clock roused me from my cradle of slumber. I felt the bed shift as Gary reached to the nightstand on his side and turned it off. For just a moment, he curled his body around mine the way we used to sleep together. He leaned close and whispered into my ear, “Kel, it’s time to get up. We have a plane to catch in a few hours.” He brushed his lips against my ear. “You’re nice and warm.”
He waited for some sign I was awake. When I lay perfectly still, he softly squeezed my shoulder. “Kel, wake up.”
“I am awake,” I finally said and turned on my back. His lips brushed my cheek as he softly climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Moments later, I heard the shower come on.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to shrug the cramping from my muscles. For some reason, it felt as though I hadn’t slept at all. My whole body ached with the stillness and even moving didn’t seem to help. I lay in darkness and had almost fallen back into the cavernous black of slumber when the bathroom door opened and light stole into the room. I closed my eyes, trying to shut it out.
“Kel, are you awake?” His steps quickened as he walked to the bed and sat down next to me. “Are you feeling okay, hon? Have you got a headache?” He reached over and turned on the lamp. As it came on, I flinched. Gary reached down and touched my face, brushing my bangs back. “Sweetheart? Is there anything you want me to get for you?”
“I’m fine, Gary.” I rubbed my eyes, wiping the sleep from the corners. My voice sounded deep and scratchy.
My husband patted my hand and stood. “Then you’d better get up or we’ll miss this flight. I know how much you just love to pack.” He walked to the closet and began pulling his clothes from the hangers and folding them in his suitcase. “Just about as much as I do.”
“I’m not ready to leave.” I sat up and stared at his open suitcase, the same one we’d picked out together. Now he would be using it by himself. Or with Debra. Strands of hair fell into my eyes, and I pushed them behind an ear. With a short-sleeved cotton nightgown, the room felt chilly, and I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, telling myself I was cold, not frightened.
Gary chuckled. “I know you just love this hotel room, but personally I think home is much better.” He peered out of the closet. “So get out of bed, lazy butt, so we can fly home.”
“I’m serious.” I traced a rose on the patterned comforter before I stood. “I’m not going. I’m staying here.” I glanced at the nightstand and saw the conch where I’d placed it the night before. The shell sat next to the pearl earrings Gary had given me.
He walked over to the suitcase and dropped the white shirt he’d been holding on top of the pile. Once his hands were empty, he folded his arms across his chest. “What are you saying? You want us to spend more time here? Like a vacation or something?”
“No. I want you and Debra to go back home while I stay here.”
Gary’s shoulders stiffened, and his eyes opened slightly wider in amazement. “You are kidding, right?” He picked up a silk tie that had fallen to the floor and clutched it tightly in both hands.
“No.” I walked to the sink and brushed my teeth.
“This is crazy.” Gary placed his hands on his hips, threading his fingers through the belt loops on his jeans. “What about the headaches? Jeez. You can’t exactly control them. Kel, are you listening to yourself? You need somebody to help you.”
“I’m not an invalid, Gary. Maybe I will be in the future, but not now. There’s nothing I can do about the headaches, but that doesn’t mean I should live in fear. Besides, there’s nothing certain in life.” I wiped my mouth and carried the towel with me as I turned to face him. “If I were to walk across the street and get hit by some drunk driver, could I control that?”
“That’s not the same thing.” Gary placed his hands on my shoulders.
I nodded. “You’re right. That would be easier because you’d never see it coming. You’d never have to prepare for it. One day I’d be here, and the next I’d be gone. This way, I’m fading into nothing.”
He inhaled sharply, as though I’d just punched him in the stomach. His thumbs rubbed across my skin. “I don’t know where this is coming from. Or why. I just can’t leave you up here by yourself. I mean, you’re sick, for God’s sake.” His fingers dug into my skin, but I didn’t think he knew just how hard he was holding onto me.
I grabbed one of his wrists, pulling it away from me. “No, Gary. I’m not sick. I’m dying. Let’s at least get it right when we talk about it.” My voice trembled slightly, and I felt my body shaking.
He flinched and closed his eyes. “Oh, God, Kel, don’t ask me to do this.” He frowned, deepening the creases in his forehead. “I can’t leave you like this.”
“Like what?” I asked softly. “Like a pathetic woman who can’t do anything for herself?” I blinked, trying to keep tears from pooling in my eyes. “Yes, I know what’s coming. But until it does, I’m still living, not just waiting.”
“You’re my wife. I promised you I’d be with you no matter what.” He reached down and caught one of my hands. “I want to be there for you. We have to do this together.”
I gently pulled away. “No, we don’t. I have to do this. And you have to keep living.” I brushed away the first tear I couldn’t hold back. “Besides, there is Aaron to think about. And Debra. She has a stake in this, too. She has a part of your life I don’t.”
“So that’s it.” Gary’s face turned white, and he walked over to the bed where he sat in silence. Closing his eyes, he cradled his head in his hands. “How long have you known?”
“Too long. Since before I found out I had cancer.” I sat on the bed next to him, folding my hands in my lap. “At first, it was hell. But then, when the doctor told me I only had a few months, I realized your affair wasn’t the big picture. Not anymore.” I looked over at him and found he had dropped his hands to his lap and was shaking his head slowly back and forth. “There are parts of me which haven’t forgiven, parts of me that are different because of it. But the rest of me is trying to keep living as long as I can.” I touched his hand. “And I don’t fault you for having a healthy heart, even if it is in the wrong place.”
He grabbed my hand. “I’ll make it up to you, Kel. Don’t call it quits because of this.” Two small tear tracks spilled down his face, glittering. He chewed on his lip, trying to figure out what to say. “I still love you. You know that. You’ve always known that.”
“Yeah, I always have.” I rolled my shoulders. Tears pooled in my eyes, threatening to spill until I blinked them away. A thickness blocked my throat, making speaking difficult. “That’s what hurts. I know you do. But I’m not leaving because of you and Debra. I’m leaving in spite of it. There are things I can handle. Knowing you’re having an affair is one of them. But I can’t watch you watch me die.” I patted his leg softly before standing and walking to the mirror. “Right now, there aren’t many things I can give you, but I can let you go on living.” I dabbed at the tracks running down his face. “You’re only human. You’ve made mistakes. So have I. But this isn’t about them.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly as he stood and resumed his packing. His fingers moved stiffly, as though he had arthritis.
“We’re all sorry for something, Gary. Sometimes we just don’t know what it is yet.” I stepped into the bathroom and took my shower. When I came out, Gary was sitting on the bed with his hands folded together.
“I could stay with you,” he said. His eyes were closed, and he looked like a child in a grown body. “We’ve been through so many things, Kel. I could do this.”
Trying to ignore the slight tremor in his voice, I faced the mirror and began braiding my hair. “I know you could. But there are things you do because you want to, and there are things you do because you feel as though you should.” My fingers trembled so badly I could barely keep hold of each thick strand as I wove them together. “I know some part of you wants to, but you’re afraid.” I twisted the band around the end of the braid and turned toward him. “I think I’ve seen you pray more in the last month that in the four years we’ve been together. And apparently the answer is still no. You want to protect me, Gary.” I bit my lower lip and wrapped my arms around my body. “But you can’t. So you have to let me go. For both of us.”
He looked up at me. His eyebrows arched uneasily over his dark brown eyes, and frown lines curled like parentheses around his mouth. “Do you mind giving us a ride to the airport?” He spoke quietly as his fingers on his right hand toyed with the gold band on his left hand.
“No, that’s fine. But Debra can take the damn courtesy van.” I picked up the pearl earrings from the nightstand and offered them to him.
He shook his head and closed my palm around them. “Keep them. I still want you to have them.” I turned to the mirror and quickly inspected my hair before we left. Once we were in the car, I felt claustrophobic. For the most part, the soft music humming from the stereo filled the silence neither of us knew how to breach. A silence filled with too much truth.
Finally, the weight of it was too much for Gary as he stared out the window. “I’d like to think you’d call me if you needed something, or just someone.” He rested his head against the seat. “I know there’s a lot of distance between us right now, but before that, there was love.”
I pulled up to the entrance and put the car into park with a trembling hand. “If I need you, I will call. You can’t subtract things, Gary, especially not those that matter. You can only add things.”
He turned away, and I popped the trunk so he could collect his luggage. As he headed through the glass doors, he looked back one last time. Pain mapped his face in lines and shadows, and each step was slower than the last. I knew if I didn’t drive away, he’d come back. I quickly switched into gear, looked to see if I were clear, and pulled away from the curb. As I entered a clear lane, I peered into the rearview mirror and saw Gary holding his bags and watching the rental car leave.
Instead of driving back to the hotel, I went to the beach. Although I thought it was because I wanted to see Tyler, actually, I needed to be close to the ocean again. Standing on the damp sand, I watched the waves rolling toward land. I took off my shoes and stepped into the damp sand where the waves had been. At first, the cold water took my breath away, but the numbness quickly replaced the chill as I walked the empty beach. I saw signs that other people had been where I stood. Sometimes I found beer bottles. Sometimes, I discovered broken toys. But the one thing that immediately drew my attention was a sand castle ravaged by the tides.
Each wave carried more of it away, and although I knew it was hopeless, I fell to my knees and tried to pad more sand in the places where the tide had damaged it. The wet sand clung to my palms. I didn’t mind. Not even the cold stopped me as I rebuilt and added to the castle. With my fingers, I brushed away sand, carving doors and windows.
When I finished, I stood and admired my work, ignoring the waves which immediately began to demolish my diligent efforts. The first wave lapped at the walls and windows I’d just built, dulling the lines I’d shaped into it.
You cannot steal this from me
, I thought, staring at the tide as I brushed my sandy hands on my shirt.
Nothing can steal this.
Instead of watching the water lap at the castle, I turned my attention further down the beach, away from Tyler’s house. A handful of other structures lined the beach. With one last glance at my shoes lying a short distance from the incoming tide, I rolled up my pants and began jogging down the shore. With each step, my toes sank deeper into the wet sand. The cold wind stroked my feet each time I lifted one of them from the water, and reaching up, I pulled the rubber band free of my hair. My fingers pulled the strands loose, and the wind gently combed it.
I ran until my left side hurt and I doubled over, cramping. I gasped air and savored the saline smell of ocean and sand. Walking toward the dry sand, I sat and grabbed a handful of the sand that quickly spilled though my fingers. At that moment, I thought about the difference between sand and soil, that one could be held onto and the other spilled away as though it had no substance without confinement.