A Life Without Water

by Marci Bolden

  Forever.

  Walking into his hospital room, she’d instantly known he’d never wake up. He’d never say her name again. As she knew John would.

  She shouldn’t have been here. She didn’t need to be here. She’d called Tiana and let her know she’d be late, but she should have gone to the office. She turned from the window, ready to leave, only to find John watching her. This close to escaping. Swallowing hard, she gave him a smile, though she wasn’t sure if it was to cover the fact that she was about to leave or to offer him some kind of comforting reassurance.

  “Welcome back,” she said.

  He dragged his hand over his face. “How long was I out?”

  She sat in the chair next to his bed. “A couple hours, I think.”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled. “Feels like it’s been days.”

  “I called Bert. He’s going to talk to someone in HR to find out who your emergency contact is and see about getting your medical records, but now that you’re awake, you can tell the doctor whom to talk to.”

  “He can talk to you.”

  “I’m not your family.”

  “You’re the closest thing I have left.”

  She didn’t want to have this talk when he looked vulnerable and she would inevitably start to feel sorry for him, but her questions were unavoidable. She’d known it the moment she realized the ring on his finger was the one she’d put there over thirty years ago. “John. We’re divorced. We’ve been divorced for a long time. I’m not your family anymore.”

  “You’re Katie’s mother. That makes us family. No piece of paper can change that.”

  She bit her lip and rolled the plump flesh between her teeth for a few moments before asking, “Why are you wearing that ring?”

  “Because you put it there.”

  “Why are you wearing that ring?”

  “Can I have some water?”

  The man was as evasive as ever. Why deal with a problem when he could deflect? She pushed herself up, filled a plastic cup about halfway, and held it out to him.

  His hand trembled as he reached out and struggled to lift his head.

  Damn it.

  She didn’t want to nurse him. Didn’t want to show him the compassion he deserved given his condition. Even so, she cradled the back of his head and lifted it for him to sip from the cup she pressed to his lips.

  “Thanks.” He fell back against the flat pillow.

  She returned to her seat and put the water aside. “I’m married to someone else.”

  “You were.”

  Carol jolted at the sting of his words. Oh. The audacity it had to have taken for him to point out that she was widowed, but then again, he was being his usual uncouth self. “I am. Tobias’s death doesn’t change who he is to me. He is my husband. I am his wife. Nothing will ever change that.”

  John shook his head. “I’m not delusional, okay?”

  “No? Then why are you wearing a wedding ring twenty-four years after our divorce was finalized?”

  “This ring”—he lifted his left hand to show her—“is all I have left of us, Caroline. Those were the happiest days of my life. I’m going to hang on to them. Whether you want me to or not.”

  Holding back her knee-jerk response took all her resolve. She wasn’t going to argue with a man stuck in a hospital bed. “Bert says you have a tumor?”

  His forehead creased, as if he were angry she’d been told. “Glioblastoma.” He tapped the front left part of his skull. “Got a nasty little sucker growing right here.”

  Carol didn’t flinch outwardly, but she shut down for a moment on the inside, long enough to process the outcome. That wasn’t the kind of diagnosis anyone wanted to hear. Without proper treatment, that single word was a death sentence. The months leading up to the end could be some of the most painful of a person’s life. Seizures. Headaches. Erratic behavior.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, running her thumb over her picked-at fingernail.

  “I’m not.” He held his fingers less than an inch apart. “I’m this close to seeing our girl again.”

  “I doubt that will comfort the ones you leave behind, John.”

  He dropped his hand onto his lap. “I didn’t mean to upset you yesterday. I got it in my head that I needed to see her before I died. When I got there, I…I acted like an idiot. I never should have tried to leave with her. I’ll be gone soon. I had no right to try to take her from you before I go.”

  “I shouldn’t have hit you. If I’d known—”

  “Don’t beat yourself up.” He grinned. “Or me. Don’t beat anyone up.”

  A laugh escaped her at his unexpected humor. As much as she hated John, she couldn’t deny that he’d always been able to make her laugh. “I should get your doctor.”

  He grabbed her hand before she could leave his side. “Will you stay? I need someone to translate what he says into something I can understand.”

  Carol looked at his hand on hers. How many times in her life had he grabbed her like that? The don’t-leave-me hold. The don’t-walk-out look in his eyes. The plucking her heartstrings to please understand one more time. Jesus, this was all too familiar. Steeling herself against his emotional manipulation, she said, “You should have a friend or family member with you. Tell me whom to call. I’ll stay until someone else can get here.”

  Disappointment clouded what little hope had shone in his eyes, and he released her hand. “No. That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for checking in. You should…get back to living your life.”

  Oh, yes, another familiar tactic. The cold-shoulder dismissal because she didn’t cave. Like a washing machine—all he had to do was push a button to start the same old cycle.

  She hesitated as long as it took to remind herself that he wasn’t her responsibility and she wasn’t falling back into this game with him. “If you need help getting someone here—”

  “Someone at the department will take care of me. Don’t worry about it.” His eyes softened, and he sounded sincere when he said, “I’m glad I got to see you one more time, Caroline. I wish…I wish I hadn’t made such a mess of things.”

  “I’ll get your doctor.”

  Carol still looked like hell with her hangover and crumpled business suit, but as she approached the nurses’ station, she reminded herself that her strained appearance was nothing the hospital staff didn’t see on a daily basis. “Could you please let Dr. Collins know Johnathan Bowman is awake?”

  The woman pecking on her keyboard didn’t bother glancing up. “Of course.”

  After thanking the nurse, Carol headed toward the elevators and pushed the button to summon a car to leave John and his problems behind her. In the past. That was where he belonged. Her life was in the present. A life she’d created without the emotional blackmail of a drunk who was terrified of living alone. She’d never had to cover for Tobias. She’d never had to lie to their family and friends about why he missed a function or why she was late or why she’d been crying.

  She had left that life far behind her, and she’d be damned if she’d let him drag her back into it. No. No, she was not Caroline any longer, and John was Caroline’s problem. Not Carol’s.

  Glioblastoma.

  The word hit her, and she had to close her eyes.

  If Katie were still alive, she’d have spent her thirtieth birthday knowing it was likely the last one she’d ever have with her father. She would have sat by his side, holding his hand and reassuring him as she soaked in every moment she could. They probably would have talked about the good times they’d shared, laughing so they didn’t cry.

  For Carol, this was the one day a year when she could think of Katie in a hospital and not think about her death. She could think back on a memory with John and not hate him. He’d been exuberant to become a father. He’d been more than proud. When the doctor announced they had a daughter, John cried. He’d actually held Katie and cried, and Carol was so overcome with love for him that all his previous improprieties faded away. All
those nights he’d spent drinking instead of being at home preparing the nursery were forgiven. All the times he’d spent money that should have gone to bills at the pub were forgotten. All the bad faded away, and in that moment she’d loved him more than she could have ever imagined possible.

  Watching him hold their baby, seeing the pure love on his face, had shown her all she needed to know about him—he did have the ability to love someone more than he loved himself. He could have been an amazing husband and father.

  From the day they’d met, he’d had a way about him that made her believe he could be better than he was. That day, even after all he’d put her through, she could see the awe on his face as he held Katie. The wonderment in his eyes was something she’d never forget.

  Carol couldn’t come up with a single scenario where she and John would still be married, but she knew if Katie were there, she would have been as well. For Katie. Because that was what mothers did—or should do. They set aside any bad feelings harbored toward their exes to be there for the kids.

  If Katie were alive, Carol would have been there for her daughter. She should be there now. For Katie.

  “Ma’am?” a voice called from a million miles away.

  Carol blinked until she could focus on the man standing inside the elevator with his palm pressed against the sliding door.

  “Going down?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and shook her head. He lifted his brow, giving her one last chance. When she didn’t step into the car, he pulled his hand back and let the door close.

  Swallowing, Carol turned down the corridor toward John’s room. “This is some birthday, baby girl,” she whispered. She had no doubt in her mind that John would make her regret this. But she’d do it.

  For Katie.

  He lifted his face when she stepped into his room. Hope sparked in his eyes again. That look was too familiar. The feeling was too familiar. She’d caved in again. He’d won again. He always seemed to win.

  “I’m only staying until someone else can get here,” she warned. If she didn’t stand her ground from the start, he’d chip away at it until she didn’t have any fight left in her. She’d allowed him to do that to Caroline more times than she could remember; she wasn’t about to let him do it to Carol. Holding out his phone, she waited for him to take it. “Call someone.”

  “I…I don’t know anybody who can afford to fly down here on a whim.”

  Don’t cave, Carol. Don’t let him twist you around. “I’ll pay for the ticket. I’ll make the arrangements. I’ll do whatever is needed, John. I need you to have someone here who can help you through this.”

  He didn’t make a move to comply with her request. He looked at her, clearly hurt. As if he hadn’t used her soft heart as a weapon against her a thousand times in the past. “If you don’t want to be here, why’d you come back?”

  “It’s her birthday. Her father shouldn’t be alone in a hospital on her birthday.”

  “Do you remember—”

  “I don’t want to remember,” she snapped, refusing to give her ex-husband even a moment to get inside her head. “I’m here for Katie. Because she’d be here if she could. Nothing’s changed. I will not reminisce with the man who took my child from me. I am sorry that you are sick. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but it is not fair that you expect me to take care of you. I will be here until someone else can arrive, but I will not be made to feel responsible for your well-being. Not after all this time.”

  The quiet that fell between them was filled with emotional grenades—a thousand things she wanted to say, old resentments and accusations that wanted to force themselves to the surface, anger and blame that had waited too damned long to be unleashed. She had her fingers on the pins, ready to pull and throw the bombs if he dared to push her on this. If he dared to make her feel guilty for not wanting to be dragged back into the hell he always brought with him.

  “Look who’s up,” Dr. Collins said, walking in. He hesitated, as if sensing the tension between them, but recovered quickly. “Um, I need to talk to you about your condition, John. Do you want Carol to stay?”

  Carol entwined her fingers and squeezed, fighting the urge to throw her hands up and walk away from the entire situation, as her ex-husband confirmed the doctor could openly disclose medical information in front of her. Dr. Collins made a note in John’s chart, verified Carol’s name “for the record,” and scribbled some more.

  He was stalling. She knew this technique. She’d seen it plenty of times before. Bad news was coming.

  An eternity ticked away before he looked at John. “I received a copy of your medical records from your regular physician. I’m sorry about your prognosis.”

  “Has the timeline changed?” John asked.

  “I can’t really say without more extensive testing. An MRI, a CT scan…”

  “I don’t want more tests.”

  She tilted her head to look at John. “There could be changes in the tumor—”

  “So what if there are?” John snapped. “There’s nothing they can do about it. Is there?” He shrugged when she opened her mouth.

  “Will his prognosis be different?”

  “No,” Dr. Collins said. “Based on what I saw in your medical records, I agree with the original prognosis. Given the severity of the seizure you had last night, I’d say you’ve started the downhill slide. We can make you more comfortable for the time you have left.”

  “More comfortable?”

  “On a scale of one to ten, how bad are your headaches? How often?”

  John sank back into the bed instead of answering.

  “They will continue to get worse as your condition deteriorates,” Dr. Collins said. “Your seizures, like the one that landed you here, will continue to get worse. All your symptoms will continue to get worse. Let me run a few tests. Maybe there is something the other doctor missed. Maybe we can help you here. Make things a little less painful.”

  Defiance, like that of a teenager, lit on his face. “That’d be nice, but I’ll be traveling.”

  Carol frowned. “For God’s sake, John. You’re not making that trip. Not now.”

  He looked at her with all the stubbornness he’d had the day she’d told him they were too young to get married. He hadn’t taken no for an answer then, and he obviously was determined not to take no for an answer now. “I’m going. You were right. I don’t need her with me to say my goodbyes, but I’m still going.”

  “You can’t drive,” she said.

  “Carol is right. You absolutely cannot drive,” Dr. Collins agreed.

  “I know that. I have bus tickets. Houston was my first stop. To see you.”

  She shook her head as she fell back in her chair. Yup. He was already making her regret not stepping into that elevator. The doctor stared at her, but she simply shrugged. This wasn’t her problem.

  “John,” Dr. Collins said. “I don’t think you appreciate the severity of your condition.”

  “My headaches aren’t going to go away. My seizures are going to get worse. Then I’ll die. Did I miss something?”

  “You don’t need to be in hospice yet—”

  “I’m not going into hospice.”

  She sat forward again. “John.”

  “Caroline,” he barked. Scowling at the doctor, he used the same clipped tone. “Her name is Caroline. Car-o-line. Not Carol.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh my God.”

  “I’m not dying in a hospital.”

  “Hospice will come to your home,” Dr. Collins said.

  He looked at Carol as if to confirm what he’d already decided. “I’m saying goodbye to our daughter. The way we planned.”

  Dr. Collins turned to her for an explanation.

  “Our daughter passed away a long time ago. We planned on spreading her ashes in several locations, but we divorced before that happened.” She turned her focus to the patient. “And it isn’t happening now.”

  John grabbed her hand
and continued as if she hadn’t even spoken. “Come with me. You’re a nurse. She’s a nurse,” he told Collins with all the pride that used to fill his voice when he introduced her to his fellow police officers. “She can help me.”

  “I was a pediatric nurse twenty-four years ago.”

  “You still know how to hand out pills, don’t you?”

  “I strongly advise against this,” Dr. Collins said. “Your condition is going to deteriorate. What we don’t know is how rapidly.”

  “I’m going,” John said to Carol. “I’m going, and neither of you can stop me.”

  Shaking her head, she looked at the doctor. “I’d love to say this is the tumor talking, but he’s always been this stupid.”

  Despite her intention to work half a day, Carol didn’t make it into the office. By the time she left the hospital, she was emotionally and physically exhausted. John still had the ability to siphon every ounce of patience from her being. He was going to take a bus to all the places he wanted to visit. A bus! In his condition.

  Idiot.

  Sitting cross-legged on the floor in Katie’s room, she stared at the framed photo of her snuggling with her little girl. Katie’s pigtails had natural curls at the ends that Carol had loved toying with. She’d stick her fingers in the twists and lightly tug, watching them bounce back into shape. She’d do that over and over as they were reading or talking about whatever held Katie’s interest at the moment.

  By the time she stopped, her hands would smell faintly of the strawberry shampoo she used on Katie’s hair. Closing her eyes, she inhaled as the scent filled her memory. Strawberry shampoo and grape popsicles. That was what Katie smelled like in Carol’s memory. Even now, she couldn’t catch a whiff of either of those things without automatically looking for her daughter. Moments would pass before she’d remember that Katie couldn’t possibly be there. The smells came from other women’s children. Her child was gone.