A Life Without Water

by Marci Bolden

  A strange pang hit her, a mixture of guilt and anger and resentment.

  She pushed John’s arm off her and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a minute to finish waking up before heading for the closet. After grabbing the bag that held her shower supplies and a fresh set of clothes, she marched to the park’s public shower area. She attempted to wash away the shame she felt at having slept next to John in Tobias’s bed, but the feeling was under her skin.

  There was no reason to be ashamed. Her night next to John had hardly been romantic and Tobias was dead. She really doubted he gave a damn who slept next to his wife.

  But she did, and it shouldn’t have been John.

  Standing under the shower head, she let the lukewarm water run over her. The camps tended to have a limit on how long the water ran. When it automatically stopped, she pushed the button again. After the third time, she actually washed.

  John was sitting on the edge of the bed when she returned to the RV. “Morning,” he said with a sleep-slurred voice.

  “How are you?” She hadn’t meant her words to be curt, but even she’d heard the sharpness of her tone. With her eyes closed, she inhaled a cleansing breath as she dropped her bag in the closet. Easing the door closed, she tried again. “Feeling better?”

  If he’d noticed her previous edge, he didn’t let it show. “Just exhausted. Hungry.” He gave her his sad eyes, the ones that used to move her. “I’m sorry about dinner.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll try again another night.”

  “I still owe you ice cream.”

  “There’s time for that, too.”

  “I hope so,” he said, standing.

  She didn’t rush him, though she wanted to. She wanted to get the RV unhooked and on the road, but his movements were even more calculated than they’d been the day before. He staggered as he stood, holding his arms out and pressing his palms against the paneled walls. After two small and unsteady steps, she realized he’d never make it to the RV shower house. She should have known this was inevitable. Maybe she had and had embraced denial, as she tended to do.

  “Shower here,” she told him.

  He lifted a questioning gaze to her. She had been adamant that he not make more work for her by using up the fresh water and filling the gray-water tank. The time for that foolish notion had passed. He didn’t have the strength to cross the park and shower on his own. She’d be cruel to make him try.

  A simple tilt of her chin served as her acknowledgment. “I’ll make us some breakfast. Yell if you need me.”

  He didn’t thank her, but his relief was palpable. He shuffled around as she dug eggs and cheese out of the small fridge. Though she focused on scrambling eggs and making coffee, she listened to the sounds coming from the bathroom. He was considerate enough to take his shower military style—water on to soak, water off to wash, water on to rinse. When he emerged in sweatpants and a T-shirt, he dropped at the table, looking even more exhausted than he had when he’d woken.

  She slid a plate in front of him and filled one for herself. “You should try to sleep today.”

  “So should you.”

  “Sleeping while operating a motor vehicle is frowned upon by most.”

  He ignored her joke and focused on stabbing at his eggs. “You were restless last night. You’re restless every night, actually. You never used to toss and turn that much.”

  “Hmm. Is that why you had me pinned down when I woke up?”

  “Probably.”

  Sitting across from him, she wrapped her hand around her coffee mug. “That was a pretty serious seizure yesterday.”

  He took a bite instead of responding.

  “I’ll let Dr. Collins know, so he can—”

  “Change my prescription and remind you that I should be in a hospital?”

  She wanted to lash out but stuffed her mouth to stifle the urge. That was progress, she thought. A week ago, he would have snapped and she would have snapped back and one of them would have stormed off. Instead, he heaved a sigh and backed down, and she kept eating.

  “He can’t do anything for me,” John said in a calmer tone.

  “Lowering the dosage on your anti-epileptic meds helped your other symptoms, but it may be too low now. There’s a balance; we have to find it.”

  “I’m not a guinea pig.”

  “Didn’t say you were.” She grinned. “Guinea pigs are cuter. Probably smell better, too.”

  He met her gaze before snickering. “You look like hell this morning.”

  “Did you look in the mirror?”

  “Yeah. I did, actually. Can we take it easy today?”

  She went for the stack of papers she’d printed at home and studied the trip she’d plotted for today. “I made reservations in Missoula, but…” After a moment of looking at the map, she tapped a spot. “Let’s get to Spokane. That’s about six hours without stops. We can stretch it out. Think you can make that?”

  He scowled at the suggestion.

  Carol didn’t want to make this trip longer than necessary, but she had to agree she needed the rest as much as he did. A week on the road, pushing day after day, was wearing her out, too. “I’ll see if we can stay here one more night. I need to do laundry anyway.”

  At that, his softer posture returned. “Sounds good.”

  They finished breakfast in companionable silence and once she finished her eggs, she walked to the office to pay for another night. When she returned, John was stripping his bed and stuffing the sheets into the laundry bag. As he did that, she gathered the sheets from her bed.

  “I got it,” she said when he started to lift the bag. “You can stay here.”

  “I want to help,” he insisted. She gave him the smaller one that held detergent pods and the charger for her phone, which had sat on the table overnight.

  John headed out of the RV first, moving with deliberate ease. She didn’t mind since she was hefting the heavier laundry bag by his side. Luckily the laundromat wasn’t far from where they’d parked. She claimed two of the old and battered mustard-yellow washing machines, managing to get all their laundry started at the same time.

  Sinking into one of the cushioned chairs next to him, she stretched her legs out and crossed them at the ankle, silently admitting she was glad she wouldn’t be spending the day driving.

  “Thank you,” John said after a few moments of watching their clothes spin in circles as bubbles started to lather. “For taking care of me last night.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Old habits, huh?”

  She considered sharing that she’d had those same thoughts, but she was getting tired of rubbing his alcoholism in his face. They’d turned the tide on the past. Letting it go was for the best. “This is different.”

  “Not really. You still had to put me to bed like a child.” Sitting forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. “I never could take care of myself, could I?”

  “Well, I’m guessing you learned sometime in the last twenty years or you wouldn’t have made it this long.”

  “Mom took care of me after you left. I’d date someone for a while, and she’d try but… They never could live up to you, you know?”

  “Oh, John. We were such a disaster. You really should have let us go and moved on with your life. You could have found someone.”

  “I didn’t want to.” He sat back but didn’t look at her. The spinning of the teal sheets seemed to have him mesmerized. “If they got close, I walked away. I refused to imagine my life without you in it.”

  Carol let his words sink in. “That’s sad. That’s really sad. You could have had a better life. You could have had more children. You shouldn’t have wasted all these years clinging to the past.”

  This time he looked at her. “I didn’t waste it. I spent that time becoming the man that I should have been for my wife and daughter. I spent it becoming someone who deserved you. That wasn’t a waste. It might be too late for us to ever try again, but it’s not too late for me to be th
e man I should have been.”

  Caroline ignored the discomfort in her back as she shifted in her seat. The speaker at her graduation was droning on and on about the bright future of medicine, not seeming to care that the graduates were sitting in hard seats with even harder backs. Not the most comfortable option for any of them, but most especially the one due to give birth in a matter of days.

  “Are you okay?” the woman next to her asked.

  She recognized her from a few classes but hadn’t ever really talked to her. She had to look at the program in her hand to check her name. Listed right after Caroline Bowman was Marie Braun.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She shifted again and gave a forced smile as Marie creased her brow with obvious concern.

  After what seemed like hours, the speaker announced the class of 1989. That was their cue to stand. Caroline struggled a bit, but Marie took her arm and helped her to her feet. As she did, something shifted low in her abdomen followed by a trickle of warmth down her leg. Horrified at first, she thought her bladder had given way, but she couldn’t control the flow.

  “Oh no,” she whispered, lifting her gaze to Marie. “I think my water broke.”

  They both looked down. She guessed Marie was relieved to see she wasn’t standing in a puddle of amniotic fluid.

  “You’re in labor,” Marie stated as if confirming what she’d already guessed. “Um. We should get you to the hospital.”

  “No,” she begged. “Please. I want to walk. Please. My husband and his parents came to see me graduate.”

  “Okay. Okay. Um.” Marie exhaled, then grinned. “Hey. This is my first real emergency.”

  She laughed, but it quickly turned into a wince. “Oh. Those are contractions, aren’t they?” Caroline asked.

  Marie held Caroline’s arm and whispered soothing words as, graduate by graduate, contraction by contraction, they made their way to the stage. When Caroline’s name was called, Marie helped her up the stairs but let her walk the stage alone.

  “Are you okay?” the head of the nursing department asked as she shook his hand and accepted her degree.

  “I’m in labor.”

  “Of course you are.” He chortled. “How far apart are your contractions?”

  “Three minutes or so.”

  He gestured to one of the other administrators on the stage, who joined them. “She’s in labor. Take her to the exit.”

  The woman took her by the arm and helped her the rest of the way across the stage as the director said into the microphone, “Can Caroline’s family meet her by the side exit? She’s about to have a baby.”

  Gasps and applause erupted as they headed for the nearest door. The woman she’d seen in the halls of the nursing department was coaching her through another contraction when John ran up, fear in his eyes.

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I got this. We got this. We can do this.”

  “Calm down. She’s fine. You’ve got plenty of time to get to the hospital.”

  “Okay,” he said, trying to sound calmer. “Okay. We got this.”

  “John,” Caroline said between gritted teeth. “Go get the car.”

  “The car?” John’s head went up and down like a bobble-head doll. “Right. Right. I’ll go get the car. Don’t move.”

  He ran out the door as the pain in her back eased and she could stand normally again.

  “Oh, honey,” Frannie cooed, slipping her arm around her shoulders. “Just try to relax. Your body knows what to do.”

  Caroline focused on the techniques she’d learned as Frannie and Mark walked her out to the waiting car. John slipped into the backseat beside her while his mother sat in the passenger seat and Mark drove. John held her hand, kissed her head, and coached her through each contraction. The fear didn’t hit her until the frenzied pace died down and she was settled in a hospital bed. His parents were in the waiting room, the nurse left to get the doctor, and it was just her, John, and a baby on the way.

  In that moment, panic crushed down on her like a mountain. Clutching his hand, she squeezed as tight as she could.

  “Okay,” he said. “Just breathe.”

  She shook her head. No. This wasn’t a contraction. This was the worst sense of fear she’d ever known. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t be a mother. I don’t know how.”

  The terror on his face eased into that smile he seemed to save for her. Smoothing her hair back, he did his best to calm her. “Are you crazy? You’re going to be the best mama anybody’s ever had. Just look at how you take care of me. Look how good you are to me. You’re going to be an amazing mother. You’re going to be the best. The absolute best.”

  She panted as another contraction tightened her entire body. “Oh, God. It hurts.”

  Cradling her to him as much as he could, John coached and soothed and kissed her head until the pain eased. Her pain and fear didn’t go away, but having him there made it all much more bearable. Nobody could comfort her like John. Nobody made her feel as brave as he did. He seemed to always know the right things to say; he said everything she needed to hear right when she needed to hear it.

  As she gave that final push, as their baby came into the world, the amazement on his face made it all worth it. There he stood, her husband, holding a tiny little bundle as tears fell from his eyes. He looked at Caroline as if she’d given him the world. In that moment, it was all worth it.

  She collapsed back on the pile of pillows. If she were honest, her relief wasn’t from giving birth or hearing her daughter cry for the first time. She’d been scared, deep down in a place she had ignored, that John wouldn’t be there. That he wouldn’t be the father he promised or the husband she needed. But there, in his eyes, in that moment he was everything she needed him to be.

  She should have known it wouldn’t last.

  She had hoped he’d spend both nights with her in the hospital, but on the second night of her stay, Frannie suggested he go home to rest and make sure everything was in order. Caroline was hesitant to let him leave, not because she needed his help—she had her mother-in-law and great nurses—but because she knew where he’d go. He wouldn’t get things in order. He wouldn’t even go home. He’d go straight to the pub.

  When he didn’t answer her phone call to say good night, she swallowed her doubt, telling herself to trust him. Then he didn’t answer her call to say good morning. Or her call to let him know she and Katie were being released and his mother had gone home to rest. She’d needed him to pick her up. He didn’t answer when she was released and was handed a newborn but had nowhere to go. And he didn’t answer when she called twice after that.

  Two hours after being released, Caroline still sat in a wheelchair with her daughter waiting for her husband. A nurse, with so much pity in her eyes Caroline nearly cried, suggested she call someone else. Caroline nodded and dialed Frannie and Mark’s number. Thankfully, Frannie had thought ahead and bought a car seat for their car. She figured she’d be spending a lot of time with her new granddaughter and didn’t want the hassle of switching car seats all the time. Mark drove Caroline and the baby home, but they didn’t say much.

  She didn’t want him to know how hurt and angry she was. When they got to the apartment and found John asleep on the couch, she excused John’s bad behavior. Like she always did. She convinced Mark that everything was fine. That she was fine, and John was fine, and Katie was fine, and everything was fine. She sent him on his way and stared at her husband, sitting there in the same clothes he’d worn the day before, looking dazed and confused and…hungover.

  She didn’t have the energy to fight. She put Katie in her crib, locked herself in the bathroom, and tried to convince herself this wasn’t the horrible omen she knew it was.

  Carol leaned back as the waiter took her near empty plate and offered dessert. She passed on his suggestion of raspberry cheesecake. She’d stuffed herself on lobster and crab ravioli while John occasionally glan
ced at her plate with a hint of disgust in his eyes. He was never one for seafood. He stuck with his tried-and-true medium-rare steak, baked potato, and green beans. Being with him again really was like stepping back in time. He hadn’t changed all that much in the last twenty-plus years.

  Leaning on the table, he gave her that boyish lopsided grin. “What are you thinking?”

  “That you are pretty much the exact same person you were when we met.”

  “No.” His smile faded. “I’m nothing like him.”

  “I didn’t mean it as a jab. I mean, you still look the same, you still eat the same, you still use some of the same phrases. Sometimes it feels like nothing’s changed.”

  “If we hadn’t split up, we’d be closing in on thirty-three years together.”

  Bulging her eyes, she did the math, confirming his statement. “Wow. That makes me feel old.”

  His grin returned. “You’re as beautiful now as you were then.”

  “Aww. You’re as handsome. And charming. And…emotionally manipulative.”

  “Ouch.”

  They laughed as she raised her eyebrows, confirming her assessment.

  “We should have someone take a picture before we leave,” he said. “We don’t have a single photo from our trip.”

  “We’ll ask someone on our way out.” She was sipping her wine when the waiter handed the bill to John. She set her glass down and reached across the table. “I’ve got it.”

  John pulled the check closer, looking offended. “I asked you to dinner. My treat.”

  She opened her mouth to argue. The restaurant wasn’t in his budget, but he liked to remind her whenever he paid for something that he might as well spend his money while he could.

  “Thank you,” she said instead.

  He stuffed cash in the black check presenter and put his hands to the table for balance as he stood. His movements had been more deliberate all day. She stood as well, waiting for him to round the table. When he did, he clutched her arm.