A Life Without Water

by Marci Bolden

  “That sounds good.” He started to push himself up, then fell back.

  Grabbing his arm, she searched his face for signs of what was wrong. “Okay?”

  He tried to fake a laugh, but it didn’t last. Holding his hand out, he said, “Help me up?”

  She stood and bent, allowing him to drape his arms around her shoulders, and slowly lifted him. “The sand messed with your balance.”

  “Or I have a massive brain tumor.” He found his footing enough for her to step back.

  “Maybe a little of both.”

  “Maybe.” Putting his arm over her shoulder as they walked toward the stairs, he turned his eyes to the clear sky. “She liked strawberry ice cream. Let’s have strawberry for Katie.”

  “Strawberry it is.”

  They took the steps up slower than they’d climbed down. His steps were sluggish, his stride not quite as long.

  His gait used to be carefree. Now he seemed weighed down by the world. By his mortality. By their loss. His walk was that of a broken man. Somehow that made her heart break a little.

  She assumed the afternoon had taken more of a toll on him than either had expected. Emotions had been high, and not only for her, but seeing his measured movements concerned her. Back at the RV, he sat heavily at the table and closed his eyes.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Starting to get one of those headaches.”

  Gathering his medicine bag and a cup of water, she sat across from him and checked her watch. “You know, they seem to start about this time every day. You’re probably getting more tired than you realize.”

  He took his pills and zipped the bag without commenting.

  “Maybe you should try resting earlier in the day. Might help prevent these headaches.”

  He put his hand to the spot where his tumor was growing. “Something tells me it won’t make much difference in the end.”

  “Not in the end, no, but there’s no need to make what time you have left worse. Go to bed, John. I’ll get us to the park, and we can rest for the night.”

  “You wanted ice cream.”

  “There will be plenty of opportunities for ice cream later.”

  “For you.” He blinked away the sudden sheen in his eyes. “I’ve got a lifetime of memories with you to make in the next few weeks. I should have done this sooner. I should have found you years ago.”

  Carol gnawed at her lip as she chewed on a truth that was hard to admit but that he deserved to hear. At this point in time, there was no point in lying, even to spare his feelings. “I don’t think I would have been this kind to you years ago, John.”

  “Dying has its perks, I guess.”

  “I guess.” Sinking back in the seat, she stared out the window, skimming the near-empty parking lot. “Tobias wanted me to reach out to you. He tried many times to convince me to forgive you. I just couldn’t.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life now that I don’t get to spend it hating you.” Lifting her gaze to his, she giggled.

  He was a bit slower on the uptake, but he chuckled as well.

  Eight

  Carol didn’t try to hide her disbelief. John was insane, and she let him know it by the way she gawked across the table at him. “You are not climbing to the summit of Mount St. Helens.”

  “It’s only ten miles round trip.”

  “Only ten miles? You wore yourself out walking on the beach in San Francisco.”

  “That was two days ago. I’ve rested plenty since then.”

  “No amount of rest is going to give you the energy or the skill to hike a volcano, John.” She turned her laptop and showed him the warning. “There is a boulder field. Do you really think I can carry you over boulders if you get hurt or too exhausted to continue? No. We’ll take the first leg through the woods until we find the right spot.”

  “She’d want to be on the summit,” he stated.

  “You cannot make it to the summit.”

  Sitting back, he crossed his arms as he defiantly held her gaze, silently showing his determination.

  She rubbed her forehead as she cursed. “You get fatigued too easily. Your footing isn’t as good as it needs to be. You’re not capable of this kind of hike.”

  “I hiked at the Grand Canyon.”

  “On a smooth path with a steady slope. This has a freaking boulder field, John. There is no way around it. You can’t do this.”

  Clearly as agitated as Carol, John slid from the booth at the table and stormed out of the RV. Turning the laptop screen back around, she finished reading about the hike. No. There was no way he could make his way to the summit. Hell, she wasn’t sure she could, and she was in much better shape.

  There had to be another option. When she clicked on the link to one of the various tours of the area, a quiet laugh erupted as she found the answer they needed.

  Standing in the door of the RV, she watched him looking out at the volcano in the distance. From the moment she had first noticed him in the coffee shop all those years ago, she’d been taken by how he seemed larger than life. He was bigger than their problems, her doubts, the limitations her parents had put on her confidence. He’d been bigger than everything. He seemed small now. Thirty years ago, if she’d seen him facing down Mount St. Helens, she wouldn’t have doubted that he could conquer the volcano without breaking a sweat.

  Now, he swayed standing in its shadow. That saddened her in ways she hadn’t expected. Another bit of the bitterness and hatred she’d held dear to her heart slipped away. How could she hate him when he was so small?

  “Hey,” she called. “Know what Katie would have loved even more than climbing to the summit?”

  His only response was to turn and look at her.

  “Riding in a helicopter.”

  After a moment, he smiled. “Seriously?”

  “Apparently aerial ash-scattering is a thing. The website says the pilot will release the remains from the cockpit. We wouldn’t actually be doing that part, but she’d love it.”

  He stood a bit taller. “Yeah. She would. Let’s do it.”

  “I’ll make the call.”

  “Caroline?” he called before she disappeared inside. “I don’t mean to be difficult.”

  “I know.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m trying to focus on Katie, so I don’t get caught up in my own shit, but…”

  She stepped out of the RV and closed the distance between them. “You’re handling this better than most, I think.”

  “I’m scared,” he said, focusing on his feet.

  “Of dying?”

  He rolled his shoulders back, as if pulling on all his emotional strength. His brave façade crumbled before he even managed to get the mask in place. Slouching, he lowered his gaze again. “Of what comes between now and dying. I know you said you’re only here until you get me home… You don’t owe me anything. What you’re doing for me now is more than I had the right to ask, but if I spend what’s left of my life in a hospital they won’t… I need someone who can make some tough decisions.” He looked around the wilderness before meeting her gaze. “You might think I wasn’t listening to the doctors, but I was. This could get bad before it’s over. Real bad. I don’t want to go down like that, Caroline. I need someone who will help me bow out when it’s time. I need you. I know that’s a hell of a thing to ask someone, especially someone you’ve already caused too much pain, but I don’t have anyone else.”

  After taking a moment to digest his unspoken request, she said, “Assisted suicide is illegal in most states. I could go to prison for murder, John.”

  Disappointment clouded his already drawn face. “Yeah. That’s a bit much to ask, isn’t it?”

  It was a bit much. Not just the idea of going to prison; she had enough emotional damage without taking his life, no matter how dismal the quality. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t understand his request. “I can’t take a
risk like that. That’s why I have to be careful with your medications.” She swallowed before continuing. “If you were to accidentally ingest…” Carol counted out a dose. “That would be fatal.”

  He offered her a weak smile and a slight nod.

  She started for the motorhome before stopping and facing him. “John? I’d really prefer you not overdose on morphine in my RV. I don’t need to add that to the long list of shit I’m never going to get over.”

  Giving her his signature grin, he put his hand to his heart. “You have my word.”

  Caroline bit her bottom lip as she stood in front of the full-length mirror sitting in her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s bedroom. She didn’t have close girlfriends. By the time she’d gotten over being a socially awkward teen, her entire life had been about John. Only now, as she stood alone in a white dress with no one around to help her get ready, did she understand how alienated she’d made herself.

  She was glad John had agreed to get married at the courthouse. The embarrassment of not having anyone show up to fill her side of a church would have been more than she could have withstood. Since her parents refused to accept their marriage, all she had were grandparents and a few aunts, uncles, and cousins. They might have attended if she’d asked, but she’d decided it was better to have a judge marry them. Maybe someday they’d renew their vows and have a real wedding. One her parents would be willing to attend. But for now, all she needed was John and a judge.

  Lowering her face, she tried to swallow her tears, but one escaped and landed on the back of her hand. She snuffled and wiped it away on the simple knee-length dress she’d selected for this day. Running her hand over the skirt, she tried to smile, but her lips quivered and fell.

  This was her wedding day, and she was miserable.

  Pressing her hand to her stomach, she reminded herself of the life growing inside her. She was going to be a mother soon. By day’s end, she’d be a wife. Who cared if her parents weren’t there to support her? She was a woman now. Her own person. She didn’t need her parents anymore. She had John. His parents were her family now, too, and they were always nice to her.

  Frannie, John’s mother, had told her how proud she was that Caroline had been quick to adjust her future plans around the baby. She said it showed her that Caroline would be a good mother. The kind of mother she’d want for her grandchild.

  Caroline hadn’t wanted to cry in front of the woman, but she’d broken down and, without any prompting, told her how upset her own mother had been about the pregnancy. They’d barely spoken since they’d found out about the baby. Frannie had held her and promised to be there, no matter what. Thus far, she’d stuck to her word.

  When she’d needed a dress for the wedding, Frannie had taken her shopping. She’d even offered to take a few of Caroline’s friends. She’d thanked Frannie and said she’d prefer the two of them go alone. The afternoon had been nice. She’d helped Caroline pick out her dress and suggested they have a reception for friends and family since they were getting married at the courthouse. Again, she thanked Frannie for the idea, but said it’d be best if she and John went home and spent time together.

  She had thought she’d covered well, but Frannie called John and quizzed him until he admitted that her parents weren’t planning to attend the wedding. Or any reception they might have. Caroline had been embarrassed, she’d tried to avoid Frannie every time she’d come over during the following week, but the woman had been persistent and kind. Everything her own mother wasn’t at the moment, so it’d been easy to start leaning on her.

  Today, her wedding day, it had been Frannie who helped her prepare. It’d been Frannie who kissed her cheek and told her she made such a beautiful bride. When there was a quiet knock on the door, she knew it’d be Frannie telling her it was time to get married.

  Caroline swallowed hard and practiced her smile once more before opening the door. She gasped when a bouquet, probably three times larger than the one she’d bought, met her.

  “It’s bad luck for me to see you,” John said from behind the flowers. “But you gotta take these. They’re breaking my arm.”

  She laughed as she took the pink roses from him. “They’re beautiful, John.” She looked over the flowers, touching the silky soft petals before lifting her tearstained face and catching his gaze. “You said it was bad luck.”

  Pushing his way into the room, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “Know what’s even worse than a groom seeing the bride?”

  “Hmm?”

  “The bride not being happy on her wedding day.”

  She gingerly touched one of the roses again. “It’s not the wedding.”

  “I know. Your parents will come around, babe. You gotta give them time.”

  Biting her lip, she tried to hide her tears. “No, they won’t. You don’t know them like I do, John. They’ll hold this against me forever.”

  He hugged her closer. “I’m sorry.”

  Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she leaned into him, absorbing his support. “We have each other, right? That’s all that matters.”

  “That is all that matters.” Pulling back, he smiled at her. “I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always take care of you.”

  Some of her sadness melted away. “I know you will.”

  Putting his hands to her face, he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. “You have a new family now. Me and this baby and my parents. We’re your family. We’re going to be here for you. Always. We’ll take care of each other. From this day forward.”

  “Johnathan Robert Bowman,” Frannie chastised from behind him. “What are you doing?”

  He kissed Caroline hard on the lips before turning to his mother. “You know me, Ma. There’s never been a rule I didn’t set out to break.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “Get to the courthouse, young man. We’ll be right behind you.”

  He kissed Caroline’s head one more time and whispered, “I’ve got you, baby. I promise.”

  She watched him leave before smiling at his mother. “Whoops.”

  “Whoops is what got you two into this,” she said lightly. “Let me look at you.” Taking a moment to rearrange a few strands of Caroline’s hair, she gave a loving smile. “I’m happy he has you. You’re good for him. You know that? You make him a better person. I love you for that.”

  Tears filled Caroline’s eyes again, but this time they weren’t sad. This time they were the kind of tears a bride should shed on her wedding day. “He’s good for me, too. He takes care of me. I promise I’ll take care of him. I’ll be a good wife.”

  Frannie hugged her tight. “I know you will. Now let’s get you two married.”

  While it wasn’t the long walk down the aisle with hordes of family filling the pews, Caroline thought their wedding was…quaint. That was a good word for it. Frannie and Mark sat on a bench and watched them exchange vows. They snapped a few photos after the ceremony ended, and then took the newlyweds out for a nice dinner.

  Caroline couldn’t have been more pleased with how the day ended…but it wasn’t over. Instead of driving them home, John pulled into the parking lot of the pub where he and his friends hung out after work.

  She stared at him, waiting for him to notice her irritation.

  After several long seconds, he stopped patting his jacket, checking for his wallet, and caught her eye. “What?”

  “I’m pregnant. I don’t want to go to the pub.”

  “Just for a drink. One drink.”

  “You had two drinks at dinner.”

  His smile faded for the first time since they’d been pronounced husband and wife. “It’s our wedding day. I’m allowed to celebrate.”

  Her heart sank at the frustration in his voice. She knew that tone. Her father used it with her quite often. She’d disappointed him. She didn’t want to go to the bar. She wanted to rest and spend some time with her husband. Still, she backed down. She nodded and turned her face to the window. “Okay. Just
one drink.”

  She should have known better. She had known better. One drink turned into two, which turned into three, as she sat at a table surrounded by off-duty beat cops sharing tales, using vulgar language, and laughing it up. John didn’t seem to remember she was there until he lifted his empty glass at a passing waitress and Caroline put her hand on his arm.

  “No more. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

  He frowned at her, but then he dug in his pocket and handed her his car keys. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll catch a ride with one of the guys.”

  She creased her brow. “It’s our wedding night,” she whispered.

  He leaned closer, cupping his ear. “What?”

  Swallowing, she snatched the keys from his hand and left without another word to him or his friends. She drove home, ripping the flowers from her hair as she went. She cursed him the entire ride and as she stormed up the stairs to their apartment. She threw her wedding bouquet, the dozen pink roses he’d given her, on the couch with her purse and marched to their bedroom.

  Stripping out of her wedding dress, she climbed in the shower and scrubbed away the makeup Frannie had helped her apply. She put on her nightgown—but not the lacy one she’d bought at the department store for this night—and crawled into bed. Alone. On her wedding night.

  She stared at the ceiling, listening to the silence until after one in the morning when the front door opened. John’s footsteps were heavy as he stumbled through the apartment. He didn’t bother getting out of his clothes or brushing his teeth. He simply collapsed in the bed and threw his arm around her, pulling her against him.

  He kissed her shoulder and exhaled the scent of beer over her. “My wife. My beautiful wife.”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t move. She lay there, smelling the alcohol drifting over her as he snored.

  Carol slowed her pace as she crossed the lobby of the heliport. She and John had been required to sign about a hundred different releases before they were allowed to get near the helicopter, let alone have the pilot release human remains over the summit of Mount St. Helens. She’d taken the papers and the container of ashes to the receptionist and returned to where she’d left John at a round table.