The Cruel and Beautiful Series Boxset

by A. M. Hargrove

  “Can I get you anything?” I ask.

  “I hate to make you get back up again.”

  “Dammit, Drew, I’d climb fucking Everest for you.” I teeter on another round of tears, and he pulls me into him.

  “Babe, all I want is one of those IPAs I love.”

  “I can handle that.” I fly off the couch and grab one out of the refrigerator and bring it back to him. I’m back in seconds.

  He laughs. “Cate, it’s not a race.”

  But it is. A race against time. The question hangs over me … how much? A year? Months?

  He knows and he says, “Babe, like I told Ben, it’s somewhere in the neighborhood of six months, give or take.”

  My hand clenches Drew’s thigh and my eyes connect with Ben’s. Six months. By summer he’ll be gone. I try to calculate in my accountant’s brain how many more nights I have with him. Six times thirty equals one eighty. One hundred and eighty days and nights with Drew. And then nothing.

  Ben empties his glass, jumps out of his seat, and pours himself another. I jump off the couch and run out the back door. Oddly enough, I don’t cry. I stare off into the distance and think about what I’ll do with myself minus the love of my life. I hear the door open and assume it’s Ben.

  “You must be going as crazy as I am, wondering what the fuck your life will be like without the most important person in it.”

  “Actually, I’m more worried about you than anything.”

  I turn to see Drew standing there. He walks up to me and wraps me in his warm embrace. I brace myself for his words.

  “Cate, listen to what I’m going to say. The reason I’m doing this is because I want my last days to be good ones, you know? I’m going to ask something really huge of you. I want you to take a leave of absence. I know you’re just kicking your career off, but I want you with me, every day, every hour, especially now, when I feel like doing things. Because right now I feel pretty good. And now that I’ll be off treatment, I’ll be even better. I want to go places, do things. Live. For the next five or six months, or however long I have, I want to hang out with Ben and Jenna, party, watch hockey, go to the beach, spend time with my parents and yours. If you’re working, we won’t be able to do half of these things. You know money isn’t an issue. Can you do this for me?”

  Without even thinking, I say, “You know I will. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be and honestly, I haven’t given work a thought. I’ll give Joseph a call tomorrow to see what I need to do.”

  For the first time since Chicago, I see his blue eyes sparkle. “Thank you.”

  This is my Drew. Thanking me for taking a leave of absence to watch him die. What the fuck do I say to that? He takes care of the awkwardness for me.

  “Oh, and Cate, do me a favor. We all know I’m going to die. Let’s not tiptoe around any of this. It will get really weird if you do. I’d rather lay this shit out on the table. You know? And not dance around the issue. And by the look on your face, I know I’ve just shocked you, but it’s the truth. No running into the closet with Ben and whispering behind my back anymore, okay?”

  “You’ve accepted all this, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, and it’s sort of a release. My only concern is you.”

  I make a huge decision here. Not because I want to, but because I have to.

  “Stop. Right here and now, I want you to stop being so concerned about me. I’ll be fine with whatever happens. My choice is that you’d be here forever and ever, but if the powers that be choose otherwise, I’ll deal with it, Drew.”

  “You promise?”

  I make and X over my heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “Never do that.”

  “Okay, bad choice of words, but you know what I mean.”

  Then he grabs me and kisses me in a way he hasn’t in weeks.

  “Hey, have you all forgotten about me?” Ben asks, interrupting us.

  “No, I just had to kiss my wife,” Drew says.

  Then Ben twitches his brows and holds up a pipe. “Anyone wanna smoky smoke?”

  “Hell yeah,” Drew says.

  Boys will be boys, even if one is dying of cancer.

  The visit with Drew’s parents is as difficult as I’d imagined. How can you prepare yourself to tell your parents you have a terminal illness? Drew is as calm as can be, but I’m the one who has the most trouble. Letty and I cling to each other like static electricity. But they’re happy to hear that Joseph agreed to my six-month leave of absence. If it goes longer than that, I will have to give up my position. I don’t give a damn. Drew comes first as I explain to his parents.

  The next few months are filled with side trips to Asheville, Savannah, and Hilton Head, where Drew and I spend precious time together doing things he loves to do, like fishing, sailing, and sitting and watching the sunset. When we’re at home, Ben, his parents, my parents, and Jenna are usually there, not all at one time, but it’s a show of love and I’m thankful for every one of them.

  Four months have passed and Drew is holding his own. One day he suggests we take a vacation out to the California wine country. I’m shocked because it’s a long flight and the time change worries me because it might fatigue him.

  “Cate, I’ll sleep on the plane and they do have beds in California.”

  “I don’t want you to get run down.”

  “I won’t let myself. I promise.”

  He seems so strong, and if this is what he wants, who am I to deny him? But I do one thing first. I call Dr. Rosenberg and have a chat with him. He laughs. “Cate, Drew is a physician and also knows his limitations. If he wants to go, then go.”

  “But …”

  “But nothing. You both know what the eventuality is. Let him get his wish.”

  “You’re right.”

  If Drew wants the wine country, then he shall have it. And he gets it. We’re tipsy more than we’re sober, I think. One day Drew says, “I don’t think I’ve tried a wine I haven’t liked.”

  We laugh and sip, and eat, and one day at dinner when the waiter asks if we’d like to see a wine list, we both shout, “No!” We agree we’ve had enough for the day.

  By the time we get home, Drew’s energy begins to lag. He doesn’t complain, but I can see it in the longer naps and the earlier bed times. He’s using fentanyl patches for pain and sometimes has to use the lollipops laced with it, too. But one thing Drew doesn’t do is complain. If he’s in pain, he slinks off and uses a lollipop, but I can usually tell by his eyes, or the shade of his skin, which has lost its usually tawny glow and luster. His hair is growing in, but the chemo he takes for pain keeps it at that downy stage, like a newborn’s, and I love to rub my hand across it. It’s one thing that Drew loves, too, and in fact he asks me to do it a lot. He says it’s soothing.

  He’s down to nothing, as far as weight, and he was right about the sweats. It’s what he lives in these days. He mentions it again today.

  “Any chance you can buy me more of these? I hate to wear the same things over and over.”

  “Oh, sure. They’re so soft, I’m sure they’re comfy.”

  “Yeah. And I don’t have to worry about them falling off this bag of bones. I’m down to nothing, Cate, there’s no use in denying it.”

  He’s right. I can’t. He’s nothing but a shadow of what he was six or seven months ago. I have his clothes pushed to the back of the closet so he isn’t confronted by them constantly, but I sneak back and look at them. It’s sad when I see how robust and strapping he used to be compared to what he is now.

  “I won’t. But I’m also not going to tell you anything negative either, Drew. I’ll get you whatever you want. You know that.”

  “Thank you.”

  Later that week, he sits in his favorite chair, a large recliner, so I hop in with him and snuggle next to him. “How’s my guy today? Feel like doing anything? A movie?”

  “Nah, I’m good right here.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Not really. Just wa
nna chill.”

  “You got it.”

  Minutes later he’s sleeping. It’s what he does mostly these days. I slip out of the chair and call Ben. I usually give him an update every couple of hours. And then it turns into a tearfest for the two of us. And poor Ben. He has to work with a career to maintain throughout all of this. I’m not sure how he’s keeping this shit from falling out of the briefcase—trying to sell stocks and investments while his best friend is dying. I’m so thankful I’m not working.

  “You stopping by after work?”

  “Cate, what the fuck do you think? I should just move in with you.”

  “Hey, there’s plenty of room here.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I have a place of my own.”

  “Rent it out.”

  “Um, yeah, but what about after …” He trails off and we both fall silent. It’s a powerful moment. “I didn’t mean …” he starts.

  I blurt out, “You could stay with me for while. I may need you.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I won’t what?”

  “Want to stay there.”

  Oh shit. I never thought about it, but he’s right. There’s nothing that could make me stay here. This is … was … our place. This was supposed to be where we had kids.

  “I guess not. Need a roommate?”

  It’s another awkward moment. Then Ben fixes things.

  “I’ll see you shortly. Need me to bring dinner?”

  “Sure. Can you pick up Chinese? His favorite egg rolls and won ton soup?”

  “You bet. What about you?”

  “I’ll eat what he doesn’t.” His appetite has gone to nothing these days.

  Ben says he’ll see me in about an hour.

  Drew eats half an egg roll and half a cup of soup and I don’t eat much more. Ben tries to cheer up the house, but Drew falls asleep on us and it’s the two of us staring at each other, wet-eyed. The TV provides white noise as Ben and I stare ahead.

  “What do you think life will be like without him?” I ask.

  “Empty.”

  “Kinda like right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He always tells me he loves all the pieces of me with all the pieces of him. Why did all the pieces of him have to get sick? Why couldn’t one piece of him get sick? A piece that he didn’t need?”

  Ben scrubs his face. “I dunno, Cate. I wish I had an answer for you. But just for the record. I love all the pieces of him with all the pieces of me, too.”

  It’s only a short fifteen days later when Drew wakes me up in the middle of the night. That’s not quite accurate because I’m not really sure when the last time I truly fell asleep—and I’m talking deep sleep—was. I hover in that place somewhere between sleep and awake. Things have declined rapidly in the last couple of days. My head spins when I think about it.

  His voice rasps as he calls my name. “Cate?”

  I’m out of the bed saying, “What is it?”

  “I think it’s time. I want to go to the hospital.”

  The words I’ve dreaded for weeks punch me in the gut, deflating me. But I refuse to let him see it. “Yeah, okay. Let me get dressed.”

  “Cate? I think you need to call 911. I’m pretty sure I can’t get up to walk.” Yesterday was rough. He had a tough time standing at all. He inhales and it’s then I hear the faint rattle that lies deep in his chest. Oh, God, how will I ever get through this? As is Drew’s usual way, he talks me through it all, telling me everything will be fine. This, my Drew, comforting me, on his deathbed.

  The EMTs arrive and load him into the vehicle, and I follow behind in my car. I call his parents, Ben, my parents, and Jenna on the way. When we arrive at the hospital, I’m at his side, holding his hand and biting my knuckle as they wheel him in. Even though this journey has been long and filled with ups and downs and I’ve had time to prepare for this day, I’m not ready. At all. Letting go of this man will be next to impossible. I watched that movie where the mountain climber became trapped under a boulder and was forced to amputate his own arm. That’s how I feel right now. Losing Drew will be like cutting out my heart. I know—it’s cliché, but it’s true. Part of me will die with him. There’s no other way around it.

  Ben and Jenna arrive and we all hug and cry in the hall, and then all go in and hug Drew. Ben practically crawls in his bed. When his parents get here, we step out to give them time alone with their only son. When I think of what they must be going through, my dying heart hurts even worse. And Drew, knowing the man he is, must be trying to be brave for them. But at this point, in these final moments, there is no more he can do or say to boost their spirits. I still have a hard time wrapping my brain around how all this could happen. No doubt they do too. My parents and siblings make an appearance, but my mom is worse off than me. I think she hates to see her daughter suffer. I don’t want Shannon and Eric to remember Drew like this, so I send them home after a brief visit.

  The day inches by. Ray and Letty take a break by going down to get some food. My parents leave and so does Jenna, promising to return that evening. Ben takes a bathroom break and says he’s going to grab some coffee. I ask him to bring me back a cup.

  “You need to eat, Cate.”

  “Not hungry, Ben.” He holds his hands up in the air, backing off. He knows not to push the food issue. We have this unspoken rule between us about these kinds of things. “I’ll be back in fifteen or twenty.”

  “No hurry.”

  It’s just the two of us now. I watch Drew as his chest moves up and down. His eyes flutter open and he motions me to his bedside. Then he starts talking and his voice is surprisingly strong. But the things he says plow into me like a fucking tank and I want to curl into him and die right with him. He tells me how he knew from the first moment he set eyes on me I was his and that he’s sorry it turned out this way. Gah, like this is all his fault! Then he tells me to go home.

  I nod and suck back my tears. “Okay. I’m going to go home and shower, because I’m kind of rank. I love you too, Drew. More than I can say.”

  “Cate, stop. That’s not what I meant. I want you to promise me something, okay? Swear to me right now.” His voice is firm, much stronger than it has been in days.

  “Okay. What is it?”

  “I want you to leave this room now and go home, but I don’t want you to come back after you shower. I want you to say your goodbyes to me right here, right now.”

  “What!? What are you saying?” My heart stutters in my throat.

  “I’m saying what you think I’m saying. I love you so much more than having you sit here by my side for the next few days. I don’t want that. You swore to me, Cate.”

  “Drew, I can’t.” Tears stream unchecked down my cheeks, because I can’t let myself think of the inevitable. Drew is my life, my heart, my everything.

  “Yes, you can. Now, go. Turn around, walk through that door, and don’t ever look back. All my stuff is boxed exactly like I asked you to, and you know what to do with it. My parents and yours will be here, along with Ben. But you, you don’t need to be here. I don’t want you to be here. I want you to remember me as I was, when I was healthy, during our best times. Now, look at that door and take your first steps into your new life, Cate. And promise me you’ll live. Just live, Cate. Do it for me.”

  “You can’t mean this. Drew, I’m not walking away.” And instead of walking, I make a move to crawl in his bed.

  “Don’t, Cate. You’re making this harder for me. It’s … have you ever heard of stories where people can’t let go? That’s what you’re doing to me.”

  My hand flies over my mouth to cover the sob.

  “Please. For me. If there’s one thing left you can do for me, do this last thing.”

  I back away from his bed, looking at his murky eyes, no longer the crystal blue of his healthy days gone by, and I turn and run blindly from the room. I don’t know where I’m going, I just have to leave his room for a moment to think, to figure out if I can do what
he’s asked. My eyes are so misted with tears, I’m blind, and as I turn the corner I crash head on into someone. Arms reach out to steady me and prevent me from slamming on my ass as my own arms windmill. I’m sure whoever I just careened into must think they’ve been attacked by a banshee, because I’m wailing, and look a mess, not to mention I smell like a skunk.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Hell no,” I shake my head. My words come out choked through another sob. “No, I’m not okay,” I manage to say. Irrationality burns my gut. Isn’t it obvious? “Do I look like I’m okay?” I rub my eyes so I can get the buckets of water out to see.

  “Here. Come with me.”

  I don’t have a choice. Whoever this person is takes my arm and walks me somewhere. He opens a door and says, “Sit.” A handful of tissues magically appear in my hand. I blow my snot-filled nose and wipe my eyes again, but still I cry.

  I feel guilty at my earlier irritation. Someone is trying to be nice and I’m being a bitch.

  “I’m sorry. I … I … my husband is … he’s dying … and,” I sniff loudly, “he just told me he wants me to leave.”

  “Your husband?”

  I finally look at my savior. His lab coat screams “physician.” My eyes are cloudy with tears so I can’t really make out if he’s young, old, short or tall. I can’t seem to stop my heart from tearing into shreds.

  “Yeah. You may know him. Drew. Drew McKnight. He’s a fellow here.” I blow my nose into a clean tissue and add it to the wadded ball of used ones.

  “Ah. Yeah. I mean, I sort of know him but never got the chance to work with him. I’ve heard great things about him. And I’m terribly sorry.” He introduces himself, but I don’t catch his name. My brain is too much of a mess to take notice. “I’m also an oncology fellow. I’m a year ahead of your Drew.”

  “Look, sorry I dumped on you.”

  “Don’t be. Can I offer you some advice? The last days … he won’t know. He knows it, too. He’s trying to protect you. As hard as it is, that’s all he’s doing. Be with him if you want.”

  A giant breath gushes out of me. “Thank you. I need to go.”

  “Mrs. McKnight?”