Love Me: Oakville Series:Book 5 (13 page)

I look past him to my beautiful wife. Her features have changed over the last few months, but to me, she’s still the most beautiful woman in the world. Her face is pale and much thinner than it used to be. She has lost an enormous amount of weight, so much so, you can see the outline of her ribs. I’d bet she only weighs ninety-five pounds or so now. Seeing her body in this state is hard to handle. It’s another constant reminder that she’ll soon be gone and I’ll be alone.

As I watch her chest rise and fall, I ache to touch her, make love to her. In over ten years, the longest we’ve gone without being with each other was after Chase was born. Keeping our hands off one another was not something either of us had much control over. My chest begins to tighten as tears sting my eyes. I inch my way out of bed, trying not to wake either of them. I can’t lose my shit here. Not where they can witness it. Quietly, I make my way out of our room to the garage. I enter the bathroom and close the door behind me. Once I click the lock into place, I slide down the door and sit on the cold, hard tile floor, hot tears rolling down my face. I don’t try to stop them like I normally do. Three months’ worth of pent up emotions seep from me with each sob I choke out. I’m angry. Sad. And in pain. But most of all, I feel helpless—unable to do anything to make my family whole again.

I don’t know how much more I can take. Watching her wither away to nothing little by little each day is slowly tearing me apart. Seeing my son changing from happy and outgoing to sad and closed off angers me. He’s so young; he’s not equipped to deal with something so life changing and tragic. “Why?” I cry out as I look to the ceiling, unsure of who or what I’m yelling at. God? Cancer in general? Maybe a little of both? “Why are you doing this to my family? What the fuck did we do to deserve this shit?” I question a little louder, anger and helplessness boiling deep in my gut. It’s too much. I stand and begin to pace the small bathroom, unable to stay still. I pound my fists on the solid marble counter top. A sharp pain radiates through my hands and up my arms, but I welcome it—prefer it over the ache that’s resided in my heart for months.

I lift my head and don’t recognize the man I see staring back at me in the mirror. I don’t recognize anyone anymore. This disease has changed us all. Before this fucking cancer came into our lives, we were all happy and content. Now, we all live in fear. Misery has squeezed all the happiness out of us. “Why?” I scream again. Wood splinters as I kick the cabinet door in front of me. I kick it again, and again, until the door is barely hanging on the hinges and my toes are a bloody mess. So many different emotions churn inside me, threatening to blow like a volcano. I’ve bottled them up tight for months, knowing I needed to be the man—the strong one for my family. My boiling point has been reached and I can’t contain the emotions any longer.

“Fuck you, cancer,” I snarl. My hands grip the counter top tightly as I stare at the weak man in front of me. The helpless man who can only stand by and watch my family fall apart. A crash sounds before I realize I’ve smashed my fist into the mirror. An intense piercing pain shoots through my hand. Glancing down, blood begins to seep from the many cuts on my hand. When I look back at the cracked mirror, my image is still visible. Disgust in myself causes bile to rise up my throat. “Fuck you!” I scream at my reflection. With my good hand, I remedy the problem and smash the rest of the mirror. Shards of glass bite into my hand.

Red hot anger burns through my veins. I spin around and yank the top of the toilet tank off and hurl it at what remains of the mirror. White porcelain fractures against the wall, but it’s still not enough to calm me. This shouldn’t be happening. I should not have to bury my wife. I’m being strangled by the feeling that I can’t do a damn thing to stop this. A husband is supposed to be the protector, but I can’t protect her from this. If I could take her place, I would without a second thought. Frustrated, I scan the small room for something else to smash. Even though I know I’ll be the one fixing all the shit I break, I feel a little lighter now than I did before I started. The bathroom needed to be updated anyway. I reach for the plastic shower curtain and yank it from the rod. Spinning around, I open the door, head to my tool box, and pull out a sledgehammer from the deep bottom drawer. Going back into the bathroom, I begin to hammer everything in sight. Every blow I administer makes me feel a little better. Sweat pours off my face and I huff, out of breath, but I keep going until the toilet and shower are in pieces. I raise the hammer and bring it down on the sink next.

“What the fuck, man?” Angel questions from the garage. I turn to face him, my chest heaving from the exertion. My arms ache from the heavy sledgehammer. A stinging pain radiates through my hands from the cuts. “You’re a mess,” he says, looking me over carefully. I look down where blood is splattered from the top of chest all the way down to the waistband of my sweat pants. I drop the hammer to the floor. Bringing my hands up, I look over the several cuts oozing blood. I glance up at Angel and see the concern and sympathy etched on his face.

“I...I don’t know what else to do. It hurts, A. She’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it,” I confess, my body suddenly exhausted. My eyes fill with tears, but I don’t have the strength to fight them. Dropping to my knees, I hang my head and sob. I can hear Angel coming closer. He kneels and wraps his arms around me.

“I’m here. I’ll do everything in my power to help you through this. You’re not alone. We are all here for you and Chase,” Angel states as he allows me to cry like a fucking baby in his arms.

“I love her so fucking much,” I cry. “How am I going to live without her? How do I take care of Chase by myself?”

“I don’t have an answer for you. But we will help you. We’ll all figure it out together,” he says, his voice strained with emotion. At times, I forget how hard this is on our friends too.

“Thank you,” I choke out.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up before Chase and Taryn wake up.” I nod my head and he helps me to my feet. Walking me over to the sink on the other end of the garage, Angel claps me on the back and shakes his head.

“If you ever tell anyone I held you while you cried, I’ll kick your ass,” he jokes, and I laugh. No matter what’s happening, he always knows the right thing to say to lighten the mood.

I
wake to the sound of Chase’s laughter. The lighthearted, melodic sound warms my heart and makes me smile. He doesn’t laugh much lately and I’ve really missed hearing it. The pain this cancer inflicts on my body is nothing compared to the pain in my heart from seeing my boys so miserable. I feel my body giving out more and more each day. Time is not on my side. How do I make sure my boys will be okay in such a short amount of time? There has to be something I can do to ensure they will move on after I’m gone. I don’t expect it to happen quickly. If I were the one left behind, I wouldn’t be able to, but at some point, they will have to let go. Knowing my husband like I do, that won’t be something he’ll be able to do on his own. He’s going to need a push in the right direction. Angel’s smiling face peeks around the doorway and I know exactly what—or, rather, who I need to help me make sure Marcus will be okay.

“Hello there, beautiful lady,” Angel says, taking a seat on the bed next to me. He has always been the rock of our group. Sitting back and quietly observing everyone seems to give him insight on every situation. Seeing through the bullshit in a situation seems to be his super power. He has a knack for knowing when to be understanding and sweet or when to be a take-no-shit hard ass, and he plays both roles very well. I have a feeling Marcus is going to need the hard ass Angel to kick him out of the grief funk he’ll end up in.

“Watch it, Casanova,” I say in mock offense. “Don’t make me tell my husband on you.” He puts his hands up in surrender, a wide smile spreading across his face. His smile is contagious. I can’t stop my lips from spreading into the first real smile I’ve had in weeks. A concerned look takes over his face.

“So, how are you doing?” he asks, and I take a deep breath. Do I tell him the truth? I feel like shit. Everything hurts. I’m always tired. I feel like I’m the worst wife and mother in the world for putting Chase and Marcus through this hell. “Don’t give me the version you’ve been giving everyone else. You can tell me the truth,” he states, glaring at me as if he’s willing me to be completely honest.

“You want the truth? I’ll give you the truth,” I tell him, though it comes out a little harsher than I intend. I need to vent. I can’t do it in front of Marcus. It’s not fair to him. He’s having a hard enough time dealing with his own feelings; he doesn’t need my shit piled on top of it all. “I’m pissed. Pissed that my body is turning on me. Pissed that I won’t see my son grow up, get married, and have kids of his own.” Tears sting my eyes and my body trembles. I’ve been able to avoid breaking down all this time, and leave it to Angel to make now the time that it happens. He doesn’t even have to push. He has a way of making you feel comfortable enough to tell him anything. Though, right now, he looks anything but comfortable. Watery tears pool in his eyes as he takes my hands in his and squeezes.

“I know this sucks, T.” I laugh. That’s the understatement of the century. Angel grimaces, realizing it too. “I know, but what else can I say? It sucks. Plain and simple. It’s not fair for anyone involved, but especially for you,” he says.

“It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s Marcus and Chase. They are the ones who are left behind to suffer. When I’m gone...I’m gone. They are the ones who will grieve and hurt. I’m afraid this will be too much for Marcus to handle. He’s a strong man, but this is going to destroy him,” I state. Angel looks at me, understanding in his eyes. “I know it’s going to paralyze him. If it were Marcus in this bed instead of me, it would obliterate me.” Saying it all out loud for the first time is making this all too real.

“You know we will all be here for Marcus and Chase. We’ll make sure they are both okay. That, I can promise you,” Angel says in a soft voice.

“I know you will. There’s something else I’ll need you to do, though.”

“Anything. You know that,” he says with a reassuring smile. Leaning over, I open the top drawer of my nightstand, pull out two sealed envelopes, and lay them on my lap. One is addressed to Marcus and the other to Chase. I spent hours writing each one of these letters, making sure I said exactly what I wanted to say and what my boys would need to hear at the time they received them.

“Marcus and Chase need to grieve, I know and understand that. What I don’t want, however, is for them to do it for too long. Life is so short, I don’t want them wasting a moment longer than necessary crying over me. Marcus is young. He has so much to offer the right woman. I want him to move on, find love again, and be happy. I don’t want him to spend the rest of his life alone mourning me.” I take a moment to catch my breath. A tear escapes my eye and rolls down my cheek. I’m trying so hard to hold myself together just enough to get through this. Reaching over, Angel pulls a tissue from the box next to my bed and gently wipes away the falling tears. He doesn’t say a word, knowing I’m not finished. Patiently, he allows me the time I need to calm enough to start again.

“I don’t know the appropriate time it takes to mourn and grieve. But if after two years he’s not moving on and living his life, I need you to step in. I hope you don’t have to, but I have a strong feeling you’ll need to.” Angel nods, knowing just as well as I do Marcus will need that push. If left to his own devices, he’d spend the rest of his life alone. “When you feel it’s time, give him this letter along with the swift kick in the ass he’ll need. Make him understand I want him to live a happy, fulfilled life—not only for himself, but for Chase and me. My final wish is for both my boys to be happy. Not to forget me, but not to waste away feeling sad and lost because I’m gone. Chase may need a nudge at some point also. When you think he needs it, then give him this. He’ll be the easy one to convince. Marcus is going to be a lot tougher.” I hand him both letters. “You’ll know when to give these to them.”

“How do you know that? What if I don’t know when?” he asks, his voice wavering. His eyes are looking everywhere but at me. I grip his hand waiting for his eyes to meet mine. When they do I give him a small smile.

“You always sit back quietly observing everyone, noticing things no one else

does. You also have the ability to be caring and understanding, but tough and firm if need be. Angel, you’re the only one in our group who can do this for me,” I tell him. His eyes are apprehensive. I know this is a lot to ask of him, but I also know my husband, and this is going to destroy him. He’ll see moving on and being happy as a betrayal to me, that he has no right to be happy, but he needs to see all I want is for him to be happy when I’m gone. I want him to move on. Angel gives me a sad smile before tucking the envelopes into his back pocket. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure they are okay.” His voice trembles and he looks to the ceiling. “Who’s going to make sure the rest of us are okay?” he questions, and my heart aches. I’ve been so worried about Marcus and Chase, I haven’t thought about how everyone else will take this.