Authors: Denise Mathew
“How can some clumps of tea leaves at the bottom of a cup be so important Gran?” I countered.
“So you have met someone,” she said, leaning in a little closer. I felt skewered in place, and still I didn’t give in. The whole stubborn as an ass description of me was more apt than even I’d known.
“I didn’t say that,” I said. My voice was louder than I’d expected or planned. I jerked my hands away, lurching to my feet, ready to bolt. Gran was on her feet too. She seemed uncommonly nimble for a woman of her age. Sudden fire burned in her gaze and her fists were balls of rage. Her stance actually scared me.
“I told you I needed to know, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” she hissed, as if it was taking all of her will to keep a handle on her temper. All I could think was that none of it made sense. Not my refusal to tell her about Marilee or her need to know, and especially not her extreme reaction.
“Drop it Gran, I…” I spun to leave. I felt her hand grip my forearm. She twisted my arm over, then jammed her finger on a particular tattoo. When she did, it stopped me in my tracks. All of my ink meant something, but none as much as the one she’d pointed out. She knew that it would get my attention. The black tattoo, a Y shape with an extra line in the center of the V, was Algiz and was derived from the runic alphabet. Among other things it was a mark of protection especially for health. But for me it was a symbol of Gran and how she’d sacrificed every part of her life for me. I dropped my head to my chest, ashamed for how I’d acted. If there was anyone who didn’t deserve to be crapped on it was Gran.
“I’m an ass,” I said to the floor.
Gran dropped my arm. She cupped my chin, bringing my face to hers. In that moment she seemed so small and maybe even a little scared. I still didn’t know why it mattered so much that I tell her about Marilee, but rather than destroy the trust that she had in me, I decided there was only one thing to do.
“There’s someone,” I whispered. I felt unexpected tears burn at the back of my eyes. A lump too big to swallow formed in my throat. I didn’t know why I’d suddenly felt like the world had gone to hell because being with Marilee made me happier than I thought possible
“Yes.” Gran’s tone was petal soft.
“She’s in the hospital and…” I pressed my lips together for a second before I went on.
“Does she work there?” Gran asked. I could tell she already knew the truth. Somehow Gran always knew the truth.
I shook my head, both relieved and shattered that I was telling her everything. “She’s a patient and…”
“She has cancer,” Gran finished.
She wrapped me in her arms. Though the top of her head only reached my chest, I felt safe and protected in her arms, like I always did. With Gran I didn’t need to know all the answers or be the guy who took care of everyone, I was just me and it felt good.
“See, that wasn’t so hard now was it,” she soothed.
But I didn’t agree with her. Somehow it was easier for Marilee to be a secret. For me to imagine that everything would work out just great. Encapsulated in the safety of the hospital that was filled with doctors, nurses and the best medicines, Marilee was safe and always would be. But for her to exist here on the Strip, where poverty and the ugly truth of human suffering was evident every day, where death was common, the real possibility that there might not actually be a happy ending in her future was there. I couldn’t allow myself to envision anything other than a happy ending.
Away from the real world I didn’t have to admit that there was a possibility that she could die and leave me. Regardless of how long I’d known her, her future mattered to me. So much so that every time I thought about her pain and suffering and how the disease took its toll on her, it felt like a lance in my chest.
“It will be okay Jackson,” Gran said.
I shook my head because she was wrong, nothing was going to be okay. I’d seen the truth. The disease that she had didn’t just make you sick, it killed you.
“I love her Gran…I tried to stop it from happening but somehow as sappy as it might sound, she’s managed to get into my head, into my heart. I want to be strong for her but when I see her…” My voice quavered. I fought to push down all the feelings that I’d managed so far to ignore. But now, with Gran there, whatever strength I’d had was spent.
I couldn’t help but remember how ravaged Marilee had already been by the cure, not even the disease. Sure she’d made it through the first cycle of chemo, but there would be another that would follow. She was already painfully thin and frail. I’d seen how much strength had been leached from her, as she fought for her very life.
“Then love her Jackson, fully and truly. Bring her into your world, let her see who you really are,” Gran whispered. Tears shimmered in her eyes and seeing her like that threatened to snap me in half.
“Because keeping her a secret won’t make her well, being able to talk to me and your friends about her and how you feel, will mean that you’ll have more to give her.”
“I just wish she wasn’t sick Gran, it’s not fair that I’ve actually met someone who makes me think that there’s more to life than just getting by, going to work and just managing to pay your bills… Why is it that venomous assholes like Emma, walk around the world without a care and someone like Marilee, someone who has so much to give, gets sick?”
“Everything happens exactly as it’s supposed to, you might not understand that now but one day you will,” Gran said, brushing away a tear that had managed to slip by my defenses.
“Sometimes I think it would have been better if I’d never met her, then I wouldn’t feel like this, like someone had ripped my guts out and tramped on them…”
“I wouldn’t have given up a solitary minute with your Grandad no matter how much I suffered when he died,” Gran said with a wistful smile.
She gazed over at the cabinet. I knew she longed to graze the surface, feel the wood against her palm, press her cheek against the face as if she could hear my grandfather speak to her. But she didn’t let me go. That was Gran’s way. She loved me so much that all her needs fell to the wayside, and it only made me feel more guilty for how I’d treated her.
She pulled me forward to our well worn sofa with its ugly greenish paisley print, cut by bits of beige and yellow. It was another treasure from the old house, and showed wear from so many people who had enjoyed its comfort. And even though I was way beyond the age that it was appropriate, I laid my head on her lap. She stroked my hair like she’d done so many times before. I closed my eyes and waited for my ragged breathing to return to normal.
“Tell me about her,” Gran said, still caressing my hair. I knew I had to get ready to leave soon, but I enjoyed the feel of her hands and how her soothing touch always seemed to make things better.
“She’s lost all her hair from the chemo. But it’s somehow made her even more beautiful, like an angel. Her eyes are the color of those flowers that you get in the spring, you know really tiny blue…”
“Forget-me-nots?” Gran said.
“Yeah, Forget-me-nots. She’s a natural blonde and her skin is porcelain white and so soft and…” I sighed remembering Marilee. Just thinking about her made me want to be with her then. To hold her in my arms like Gran was doing for me, and never let her go.
“And she’s tiny, kind of like you. But she also has this spark in her that says she’s not going to just take it.”
“She sounds nice,” Gran said. I pushed up to sitting and nodded.
“She’s one of a kind, but her asshole parents don’t see it like that…” I threaded my fingers behind my head and leaned back. “Her mother’s this stuck up bitch and her father’s all yes dear, no dear, to the mother. They’re pieces of work and they’ve even forced Marilee to stay on the ward between chemo cycles.”
Gran cocked an eyebrow my way. “Really? Is she too sick to be home?”
I shook my head. “Nope, her parents can’t be bothered having a sicko in their pristine house.”
“Oh my, that’s awful,” Gran said, shaking her head. “I’d think that being in a place that’s familiar would be beneficial for her recovery.”
“And you’d be right…whatever.” I shrugged and got to my feet.
“Anyway I’d better shower and get ready for my gig, Max and Zeke will put a hit out on me if I don’t show.”
Gran smiled. It seemed all the tension from the past few weeks had drained away. It was more than satisfying to see her back to normal.
“Have fun dear,” she said. I turned to leave.
“And Jackson, if you ever need to talk about Marilee…”
I paused, nodded, then planted a kiss on her wrinkled cheek.
“I will,” I said.
I retreated to the bathroom feeling lighter than I had in a very long time. It was true, sometimes the people who loved you the most, knew more about what was good for you than you did yourself.
13. Marilee
I turned the origami dragon over in my hands, astounded by the detail but also the simplicity of materials used to construct, what could only be described as art. Jax was perched on the edge of my bed, his shoulder pressed against mine. His head was tilted over me, his breath warm on the back of my neck.
“It’s kind of mind-blowingly cool,” he said, curling his arm around my waist. I smiled. Whether he was holding my hand, hugging me or even if he just grazed his fingertips against my cheek, it always sent a thrill of excitement through me. I never tired of the feeling of his hands on me. His familiar scent filled the room and managed to cloak the strong odors of the revolting flowers that, despite the vase incident, Mom still insisted on sending.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, sighing.
“Not as beautiful as you,” Jax whispered into my ear.
I shivered then glanced over at him. Our lips were an inch apart. I closed the distance, kissing him on his full lips that were still quirking a smile. He responded, drawing me so close that I worried that the dragon would get crushed. Seemingly sensing my quandary he pulled back, giving me his trademark single dimpled grin. Right then I didn’t think I could have loved anyone more than I did him.
I suddenly realized that he’d called me beautiful and I felt my face flush. The last word I would ever have used to describe myself was beautiful. Whatever beauty I’d had in the past was long gone. I’d lost so much weight that my chest was pre-pubescent flat, my hips were boyishly straight, not to mention that I was bald as a newborn baby. Only I didn’t have the baby cute factor to go with the baldness. If I was being honest I felt barely passable. Those facts alone had me wondering what Jax, tall, dark and gorgeous, saw in me.
“Do those cheesy lines work with all the girls,” I said, emphasizing my words with a dramatic lift of my eyebrows. If there was one thing to be thankful for, it was that I’d managed to retain the little bit of hair on my eyebrows and eyelashes. It was bad enough to not have any hair, but to have no eyebrows too would have been beyond odd.
“Every time,” he said with a lopsided grin.
I jabbed my elbow lightly in his ribs. He flinched as if he’d been mortally wounded. I laughed out loud. Once again I was reminded by the fact that not only was I in the midst of one of the worst times of my life, but I was enjoying the best part too. Being with Jax seemed to breathe life in the day and made the roads seem wider and colors appear brighter.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I asked, instantly breaking my promise to myself that I wouldn’t ask him about the holiday. But since tomorrow was the Thursday before the long weekend, it was hard to think about anything else. As tough as it was to accept, it was going to be my first Thanksgiving away from home.
Harold had already made it abundantly clear that no matter how much healthier I’d felt, it was better for me to be in the hospital. He’d said that I would be getting the best care I could. He believed that if I were home there wasn’t anybody there to help me if I got sick again. I was sure that my refusal to wear the hat-wig combo that Mom had sent, hadn’t helped swing the matter in my favor.
Thanksgiving had always been huge in my house. It was an event that Mom planned months in advance. For her and Harold it was a time to get the house all decked out for Christmas. Her fanciful decorations would have rivaled the most up class boutique or maybe even Martha Stewart’s place. Never the same two years in a row, our decorations were cutting edge, as far as Christmas decorations could be. For Mom it was a time to show off to her shallow friends who oo-ed and awed over stupid white down wreaths, or silver spray painted twigs.
In my opinion Mom and her designer’s visions were so far from traditional Christmas that it was laughable. I longed for something normal, something red and green would have been a start, not chartreuse and petal pink.
“Gran does a big spread, sweet potato pie, ham, turkey, gravy, homemade rolls, and pumpkin pie for all my friends, and also some of the neighbors who don’t have family,” Jax said.
He wrapped his arms around my waist a little tighter. I leaned back against the firm muscles of his chest. And positioned like that, held in his embrace, I forgot that I was sick or that I’d soon be starting another chemo cycle.
“That sounds amazing,” I said. I wasn’t willing to confess to him that I was going to be holed up in the hospital for the holiday. Though it was always a pain, fake smiling for all Mom’s society friends, I longed to be back in my own room and bed.
“How about you?” he murmured against my neck. I was immediately sorry that I’d mentioned Thanksgiving because now I would have to tell him I was spending it in the hospital. The last thing I wanted was his pity. Because of that, the lie that slipped out next came easy.
“Harold and Mom are picking me up and taking me home for a few days,” I said.
“Really?” Even without looking at him, I heard the surprise in his tone. I was a better liar than I’d thought.