by Jenny Wood
After taking a couple sips of ice-cold water; I paddled my way to the couch with a slight groan, my stomach was aching again and I just needing to rest before I tackled getting ready for bed. Before I’d gotten there, I’d noticed a shirt lying on the floor; shoes as well. Shoes and a shirt that didn’t look like any I’d seen before. Now, I know what you’re thinking, this is the part where I catch my partner of a little over two-years banging another man on our couch… right? That’s what you were thinking? Because the signs were all there, weren’t they? Suspicious truck in the driveway, unaccounted for partner, clothes strewn about? Classic cheating scenario, huh?
Turns out, you were only half right. Instead, I saw my partner; the man I shared my life, my home with; tangled in the arms of another man on my couch. They were shirtless, disheveled and sound asleep. Jeez, how long had it been since he’d lain with me like that? He looked comfortable…content. It hurt to see the relaxed, happy look on his face more than it did seeing him lying half naked with another man. I did the only thing I could do. I bent over and finally emptied my stomach.
“What the fuck?!” Stephen yelled and sat up to have a look around. I’d fallen to my knees at this point and there was nothing left to throw up; that meant, I was dry-heaving while spit and snot were dangling from my mouth and nose. Attractive picture, I’ve made, hmm? The truth is ugly sometimes; hence the scene before me.
“What are you doing home?” Stephen asked in a panic; coming to me with outstretched hands like he wanted to comfort or try to help me. I just shook my head and batted him away while still trying to catch a decent breath without heaving.
“Are you okay?” The beefed up, tatted man asked me, softly. Clearly, I was doing great; couldn’t he see that?
“I’m sorry, this is really a bad time, can I call you later?” Stephen asked the man. That’s right, he was explaining to this man, the one in which he was lying with on my couch that- I’d interrupted their nap and he’d have to call him later. Because, why not? The man looked pissed but he didn’t say much else as he slowly gathered his things and walked out the door. I wish I’d have noticed the way he kept his eyes on me the whole time, but sadly, I’d missed it.
There had been a blanket thrown over the back of the couch and I had wanted nothing more than to grab it, curl up on the couch and cuddle with Stephen. I’d need someone to be strong for me in the next day or so while the chemicals and poison ran through my body, trying to defeat the cells in It that were trying to destroy me. That wasn’t going to happen now, was it?
“Do you need anything” Stephen asked, quietly beside me. Did I need anything? I couldn’t think of anything at the moment that I needed. Maybe a clean shirt, a toothbrush; maybe a time machine? I didn’t know.
“Let me help you to bed.” He says as he tries to grab my arm to help me up. My skin, all blistered up and peeling, felt like fire when touched; and his fingerprints had me calling out in pain.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Shit.” He sputters, looking around, for an answer of what to do, I’m sure.
“Just go.” I say in between gags. I’m openly spitting in the floor now. I know it’s going to be a bitch to clean that up later. I may have to leave it until I feel better, that’s gross.
“Go?” He asks, surprised. “Go where?” I can only shake my head. I just want him away…away from me, away from my house and our memories. It hurts to look at him and I’m humiliated.
“Honey, you need help.” He says softly. I do; I do need help, just not from him.
“Go.” I say, more determined now that I can breathe. My stomach is empty and the shaking has almost stopped. I crawl to the couch and pull myself up. I can’t think about how it smells right now; like, home and something else- someone else. I can’t even care, I just grab the blanket and pull it over me and close my eyes.
“Honey. I think we need to talk.” He says, stupidly. I laugh. It’s a small, sad sounding laugh, but it’s a laugh all the same. I don’t even open my eyes.
“It’s just that, well…. You know, it’s been so long and we’re both so busy and you don’t…. you can’t anymore, that’s not fair to me.” He’s trying to explain. He’s actually trying to explain to me how him lying with another man is him making things fair. I don’t even have words for that logic. I’m 25 years old and I have cancer, how is that fair?
“He didn’t mean anything, I just picked him up tonight.” He lets me know, rubbing salt in my already gaping wound. Why would anyone think that, that would make anything better?
“I needed to feel important or, ya know, wanted. You don’t make me feel like that. Not lately.” He tries again and I feel the tear leak out of my eye; fall across my nose and land on the pillow that someone else was just laying on. He didn’t feel needed? I needed him more than anything, it just wasn’t the way he wanted to feel needed.
“Don’t do that. Don’t cry, honey. I’m here.” Stephen says, ridiculously.
“You are?” I whisper and look up at his devastatingly handsome face. A face that I’d woken up with and fallen asleep next to, every night for over two years. He nods and smiles. It hurts my heart. I wonder how much pain a body can take before it just…. gives out? Was I getting close? It felt like it.
“Where were you when I needed you today? Tonight? What is it that you do instead of coming with me to treatment every week? This wasn’t the first time, huh? Just the first time you got caught. Do you always bring them into our home?” I asked, not giving him a chance to respond.
“Honey, don’t do that.” He coos at me like a condescending asshole. Has he always done that? Talked to me like he’s doing me a favor by being here? I truly had to think, surely I would have noticed that, right?
“You should probably pack a few things and go into town for the night. We’ll settle the rest of the stuff over the next few days and figure out who gets what and what goes where.” I tell him, tiredly. I’d work it all out later, when I wasn’t so exhausted.
“What do you mean?” He asks, like an idiot.
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” I pry my eyes open to look at him.
“I’m not leaving; you need me here to help you. I need to take care of you.” He says. Again, I can’t help but laugh.
“Did the last fifteen minutes completely escape you?” I ask, bluntly.
“No.’ He sounds offended. Poor him.
“Do you think that we’re going to stay together now? Or, I mean…. What did you think would happen when I came in and caught you with someone else?” I asked, truly interested in his answer.
“Honey. You’re sick.” He informs me like I didn’t know that. Idiot.
“Yes. I was sick when you were cuddled up with someone else, too. Why is it just now becoming something to be concerned about?” I ask, my anger, apparent now.
“I don’t want to leave you alone.” He pouts. Literally, he pouts; like I’m the one being unreasonable; and you know what? Maybe I am. I know that my illness hasn’t been easy on him; I know it. I know that it’s hard on him to help me do things when I’m too sick to move; which happens more than I probably realize. I know that it’s probably too much for him to go days without sex when our relationship was healthy before I’d gotten sick. Could I fault him for that? I certainly wasn’t much to look at right now, with my sunken, dark brown eyes and shorn, light brown hair. My once fitting clothes, quickly swallowed me and the lean muscle that I’d once worked hard to maintain, had all but disappeared. Could I really blame him for taking an out when he needed one?? I wasn’t sure. It was me who up and changed the game, even if it was unintentional and not something I could control.
At the moment, I didn’t have it in me to rationalize and I certainly didn’t want to argue.
“Can you please, just go? Please.” I’d pulled the blanket up over my head and hid. It smelled like cologne, really good smelling cologne. A strong, masculine, clean, fresh, smelling cologne. All man and musk. It should make me sick, seeing as it came from someone who’d jus
t laid the bone to the love of my life, but instead; I took comfort in it. For some reason, the smell was like wrapping me up and hugging me. Isn’t that ridiculous? Fucking insane is what it is.
Chapter 3: Kingsley
What the fuck kind of mess did I just walk into, or out of I guess?
Of fucking course, this is the shit that happens when I decide to go home with a stranger? That shit is never as easy as it seems. I thought: Sure, let’s go have a good time; you deserve it, it’s been ages; go meet people, live a little!
Instead, I got a semi-decent hand job and a nap. Then, I woke up to retching. “Stephen” jumped off the couch and was looking frantic; I could only notice the very, very small, tired looking, obviously sick man on the floor. He looked so hurt, physically and emotionally. He was throwing up in the middle of the floor and could hardly take a breath. I tried to ask if he was okay but Stephen, who kept calling him “honey” answered before he could.
He’d call me later, he says. I’m not sure how; the fuck doesn’t have my number--thankfully, but still, I didn’t fuck around. I grabbed my shirt and the shoes I’d kicked off; luckily my pants were still on and I got the fuck out of there; not without watching the man on the floor, though. Something was terribly wrong with this picture and it wasn’t just that I’d obviously just hooked up with someone I shouldn’t have.
The man on the floor was sick; obviously, as I witnessed him throwing up in the middle of his living room. It was more than that though, he was seriously, sick. He looked to have been around 5’7ish, I’d noticed how significantly shorter he was to Stephen before he’d fallen to his knees. Fuck, that sight almost killed; I’d wanted to help him up and get him onto the couch or something. He had a fuzzy, closely shaved, head of light hair and his eyes had the blackest circles around them. His sweatshirt was oversized and he just looked so frail. He was obviously hurting in more ways than one. I was never going to get to sleep tonight.
When I got home, it was a little after 2am. I noticed Kayson’s bedroom light still on and wondered what was keeping him up. If I had to guess, I’d say it was the bookstore owner we’d watched get his ass handed to him a few days ago; it seemed the man made an impression on my big brother and for the first time in his life, he was interested in someone for more than a hookup.
Kayson and I were very different in that regard. Where he didn’t want to be tied down; seeing as he witnessed our mother love our father so much and him just out having affairs and taking on mistresses and other families; he didn’t want any part of that. That love that could consume you so much that you’d do anything for that other person, even if it meant sharing them with whomever you had to. Sounds fucked up, doesn’t it? It was, it definitely was; but our mother never let her unhappiness show. She had enough light and love to overcome any darkness, and she did.
Me? I wanted the kind of love my mom had in her heart; I was missing it since we’d lost her. Even though my father was a piece of shit husband and is proving to be an even bigger piece of shit, father, our mom loved him. She stuck by him through everything and even though he cheated; even though he spent his time and money on other women and often times lied about who he was with or where he was at; I believe he loved my mother. I remember watching them dance in the living room when I couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6. There was a charity gala or something going on that was televised and they had live music and entertainment. I’d woken up and had to use the bathroom and waddled my way into the hallway and heard my mom’s soft laughter. I loved when mom was happy, so I followed it to the living room and saw my dad holding her close, swaying to the quiet song, playing on TV. Her eyes were closed as she laid her head on his chest with a smile and swayed. My father had his arms wrapped tightly around her and he looked, for a few minutes, like everything was all right in the world. Maybe for those few minutes, it was.
I wanted a lifetime of that; of the feeling my mom must’ve felt when she had my dad like that. That wasn’t the only time I’d seen their love for each other; I’d seen it many times in my young life. His falling apart at her bedside the night we lost her, being the most profound. It pissed Kayson off that our dad was “suddenly acting as if he cared, now that she was dead”, but I saw the devastation in his eyes. The look of being lost on his face and losing the only thing that could guide him home. I knew he loved her, he just had a fucked up way of showing it, sometimes.
“Hey.” Kayson said softly, coming into the kitchen where I was heating up some of the lasagna someone had bought from Mazio’s.
“Hey.” I say back, just as quiet. “Jody home?” I asked, not remembering if I saw his pickup, outside.
“Nah, he crashed at Jinx and Layla’s after the game.” He replies. Of course, I’d known he was going over there, it was why he didn’t go out with me, tonight.
“Well, I’m eating your lasagna then.” I teased as the microwave beeped off.
“What’d you get up to, tonight?” He asked, grabbing us both a water from the fridge and sitting across from me at our kitchen, island counter. No way in hell was I going to open that bag of shit. I felt like the biggest asshole as it was.
“Club in Lawrence.” I’d said, instead. It was a half-truth, that was where I’d met Stephen.
“Any prospects?” He smirked, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl, I’d kept stocked and began peeling it.
“Twinks.” I remarked, unimpressed. Don’t get me wrong; I liked men with a smaller, lither, body type. I was extremely attracted to them but the kinds that hung out at clubs? Tight clothes, slick hair and just begging to go home with a guy like me? Not for me.
My mind was cast back to the sick man I’d left alone with Stephen tonight. Were they together? Did I just help an asshole, cheat on his incredibly sick boyfriend or husband? That thought made my stomach hurt. I handed Kayson the plate I’d been eating off of, as he kept trying to steal chunks of sausage, anyway. He took it, readily.
“I fucking love Mazio’s.” He groaned and shoveled a bite into his mouth.
“Over the librarian, already?” I joked, watching him freeze, mid-chew.
“What?” He gaped with his full mouth, wide open. I couldn’t help but laugh at his deer-in-headlights, look. I wondered what was going to happen there.
“Mmmhmm.” I hummed, knowingly, still smiling at his face. “I’m hittin’ it. I’m tired.” I told him, taking my water and slapping his arm on the way out of the kitchen. He left me go, quietly; another reason I knew that he was smitten over the cute librarian across the street from our shop. He normally would have been quick with a snarky comeback or at least a middle finger. My brother-going soft. I laughed as I closed my door.
Deciding to take a shower and wash the club stink and remanence of cum off my stomach; I grabbed my sleep pants and headed that way. In and out quickly, I laid down on my fluffy mattress and mounds of pillows on my bed. I was exhausted, but my mind in overdrive was preventing me from falling asleep. I didn’t have any appointments until noon tomorrow and normally, I’d go in and hang out at the shop, wait for walk-ins or work on sketches; but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to check on the man from earlier. I know it wasn’t my business, I know I shouldn’t interfere; especially if they were boyfriends or husbands; but even or especially if they were, I wanted to let the man know that I wasn’t the kind of man who’d go home with a married or committed man. Although, it’s true that I didn’t ask if Stephen was single, I had just assumed that he was. Either way, that wasn’t the kind of guy I was and I wanted to clear that up. I also, really just wanted to check on the guy and make sure that he was okay.
With a plan in mind… I was finally able to sleep.
I tossed and turned for the remainder of the night; I didn’t sleep for shit. My mind going through different scenario’s, wondering how I might fuck this up even more than I had last night. I woke up entirely too early to show up on someone’s doorstep, so I make a light breakfast; used our little make-shift gym here in our garage to get r
id of some of my built up, nervous, energy and then showered and took entirely too long to dress. Why I thought I had to pick out a nice, long-sleeved Henley and the nicest pair of stone wash jeans I own, is beyond me. Still, I did it. My hair takes no time to do anything with, it’s barely long enough to run my hands through; my heard is just there.
Thankfully, Kayson isn’t awake yet by the time I’m up and out because he would have wondered where I was going all gussied up and put together. I made sure I had my phone, wallet and keys and locked up on my way out. The drive to the house was different during the day and far more beautiful now that I could see the color changing leaves make a brightly colored tunnel down the dirt road. We didn’t see seasons like this in California; I was really most looking forward to snow.
When I pulled up to the small cottage, I didn’t see the Lexus in the spot where it’d parked last night, but I also didn’t see any other cars out of the garage either. It was hard to tell if there were lights on in the house because the sun was shining brightly overhead. I noticed the nice little rows of flowers beside both sides of the walkway and a very brightly colored flower bed on both sides of the door and under the window on the right side. It looked like something straight out of a magazine. Deciding to wing it, I didn’t take long to walk up and knock on the door. I didn’t knock loud; in case someone was still sleeping but loud enough to be heard if they weren’t. Within seconds, the door creeks open and I see the disheveled, tired looking man from last night.
