by Chelle Bliss
In lieu of flowers, please send a payment to Visa to help pay off her shopping addiction.”
My life has been laughable.
It’s just my things and me.
I sit in the dark propped up against the wall inside my walk-in closet as my eyes sweep over my life. What I was once proud of now makes me ashamed. Tears stream down my face, but I don’t have the energy to sob.
I hang my head, a war going on inside of me. I know I’m being selfish and ridiculous. My mind isn’t right.
The light streaming into my closet makes my shoe collection look like a shrine. A dumb one, but it’s all I have.
“Callie,” Bruno’s voice is soft.
I don’t move and I don’t call back. I wipe my face and glance toward the door, waiting for him to go away.
“Open the fucking door!” His voice grows louder as he pounds on the door. I’m sure every one of my neighbors has heard him by now.
Oh, shit. Bruno’s pissed. I don’t have to open the door to know it. My phone starts to ring and I jump. Quickly, I cover it with my hands to quiet it.
“I can hear your phone. Open the door.”
I grimace and roll my eyes. “Fucking traitor,” I hiss and look down at my phone.
Me: Go away.
A text would do the trick. I push myself off the floor and walk into my bedroom.
“No!” he yells and I flinch.
Me: I’ll call the police.
“Go ahead. I’ll be in before they get here.”
Ah! Grrr. Scary Bruno has returned.
I inch toward the door and try not to make a sound.
“Callie.” His voice is softer this time. “I need to know you’re okay.”
I take the coward’s way out.
Me: I’m fine. Please just leave.
There’s no reply. I wait, listening for anything that indicates he’s left, and when I hear nothing, I take another step. Slowly, I walk toward the door and place my eye against the peephole. Blackness. Nothing. Not even the lights in the hallway. I look again, confused.
“I see you,” he says.
I jump. Fucking hell.
“I can see you through the peephole. Just let me in.”
Placing my back against the door, I slide down, settling in front of it to block his way. He can break in and probably push it open even with my weight against it, but I figure it’s my only chance. He isn’t getting through, no matter what.
I don’t hear anything for at least a minute before he says, “I’m not giving up. I’ll be back.”
I swallow, fighting the dryness in my throat, and my nerves are shot. I know he means it. I can only put him off for so long. I don’t move, even after I hear his feet stomping down the stairway.
My head starts to bang against the door. At first, it’s a reaction but then it becomes something more. I’m so pissed.
Angry about everything.
Everything.
I can’t think of one thing or person I’m not pissed at, and smashing my head repeatedly into the wooden door just feels right.
“Why me?” I yell into the air. “Why did it have to be me?”
I don’t know if I expect an answer, but it feels good getting it off my chest.
“Fuck you!” I yell again and slam my hands down on the floor.
I’m pissed at my doctor, cancer, chemo, my work, cancer, Rebecca, Bruno, cancer, my parents for leaving me alone. I can’t think of anything that doesn’t piss me off.
Even my shoe collection aggravates the fuck out of me. Who needs so many fucking shoes? I have two goddamn feet. Maybe if I’d spent more time enjoying life rather than buying things, I wouldn’t be in this situation.
Laughter bursts out of me.
Hysterical, crazy laughter.
I think I seriously have gone off the deep end.
I’ve lost every fucking marble inside my head.
How can I think shoes are the issue? I know better than that. It’s easier to blame something so stupid than to realize my own body is attacking itself.
It’s why I chose cancer when I decided to become a scientist. A disease rarely caused by something someone does, yet it affects millions of people. It kills without discrimination. It comes in various forms. Although there have been advances and treatments, there is still no cure. I wanted to change that. It was the worthiest cause I knew when I decided on a professional focus.
I’m not special. I like to think I am, but I know that, just like the other people fighting this disease, it picked me without a thought to who I was.
I laugh until I cry. My emotions are everywhere and I can’t control them. I curl up on the floor as my tears subside. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel different. Maybe then, I can face the world.
There’s a high probability I’m having a mental breakdown. Being alone and going through the amount of stress I’m going through is a wicked combination.
As I crawl into my bed, I think tomorrow will be different.
* * *
I stiffen as the bed dips.
Someone crawls into my bed behind me, snaking his arm around me. I didn’t hear a thing.
“Shh. Relax,” the man whispers and pulls my back tighter to his front.
Even though I’m still half asleep, alarm bells are going off in my head. “B-Bruno?” I stutter and pray it’s him.
“Yeah. Go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” He kisses my neck and I melt against him, relieved he’s here.
Fuck. He broke in…again.
But then again, he feels nice against me. I’ve missed him. His arms make me feel safe. The familiar scent of his body calms me, and I don’t want him to go away.
I haven’t slept right in days… weeks, if I am being honest. Between the chemo, chills, and my lonely bed, everything has been off. I walk the floors most nights… when I have the strength to walk. Panic has been part of my daily routine. I pace and freak out before I start screaming into the emptiness of my apartment, eventually collapsing out of exhaustion.
Instead of kicking him out and starting a fight, I push my back as close to him as possible and close my eyes.
I’d deal with him tomorrow.
17
The Morning After
I wake up to an empty bed. At first, I think I dreamed him crawling into my bed. Then I smell his scent on my pillow and I know it wasn’t a dream. Bruno came to my apartment, let himself in, and then helped himself into my bed.
When I should be mad, I can’t stop myself from smiling.
Yep, clearly, I’m still having a mental breakdown.
No sane person would be smiling about what had happened. Only me. Only now. A few months ago, I’d have stomped into the kitchen to knee him in the balls and then call the cops to report him for breaking and entering. But the new me, the one with cancer, is grateful that, for the first time in a long time, I’m no longer alone.
My mind’s racing, moving wild and crazy from thought to thought, and I can’t stop it. I roll over, burying my face in the pillow and inhaling the remnants of Bruno left behind, and I cackle.
Yep, I cackle like a crazy person.
“Cal.”
I groan, almost wishing I could suffocate myself with the pillow. I imagine how I look right now. My head glistening in the sunlight, my bare ass on display with my face buried in the pillow and laughing like a lunatic—it has to be a sight.
He whistles as I feel around my sides for the blanket to cover myself. My body rolls and I wrap the comforter around me as I move. “Enjoy the show?” I ask and I glare at him.
“Immensely.” He grins, resting his body against the doorframe with his arms crossed and looking especially happy. He pushes off and comes toward me quickly. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how pissed are you at me?”
“About twenty,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes at him when he sits down on the bed.
“Good.”
My fingers dig into the blankets instead of strangling him. “Why is that good?”
“Anger is a good emotion.”
“Huh?”
“It motivates people.”
“Listen, Tony Robbins, I don’t need motivation.” My jaw clenches and my teeth scrape together as I try to control my breathing.
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
Ugh.
“Why?”
“I’m taking you somewhere.”
I shake my head and tense. “I’m not leaving the house.”
He nods and keeps freaking smiling. “We have an appointment, and we’re keeping it.”
I grit my teeth. “What?”
“It’s a secret.”
I roll my eyes without even realizing it. “For fuck’s sake. I hate secrets.”
He touches my hand, which has been fisting the blankets against my chest. “This one you’ll love.”
“I should have you arrested for breaking in last night.”
“You won’t.”
“I can.”
“But you won’t.”
Gah. This man makes me crazy. “How are you so sure?”
He laughs and pats my hand before standing. “I didn’t break in. I used a key.”
My mouth falls open and I try to form words, but nothing comes.
“So up you go. We have a busy day planned.”
“You.” I point at him and inch down under the covers to bury myself. “I don’t have any plans. I’m just going to lie here and be pissed off at you.”
He holds his stomach, doubling over as he laughs louder. “Be pissed all you want, but by the end of the day, you’re going to kiss me.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Fuck,” I hiss and know it’s a losing battle.
“Up,” he tells me again and rips the covers off the bed from the bottom. In one fell swoosh, my entire naked body is visible.
“Goddamn.” I scramble to my feet, using my hands as shields.
“Don’t cover the good stuff.”
“Turn around!” I screech, bouncing from foot to foot, still covering myself.
“I could use a shower.” He stretches and every muscle in his torso contracts. I salivate, finding myself pausing midbounce to have a look-see. “You want to join me?” He smirks.
Suddenly, I remember I’m supposed to be pissed and I wipe the lust from my mind. He stalks forward and pushes my hands away from my body. His eyes creep across my skin as he takes his time to get his fill. “You’re way too thin, Callie. What the fuck have you been doing while I was gone?”
“You weren’t gone,” I correct him. My face heats and I’m flooded with embarrassment from my nudity and for pushing him away.
“Have you been eating?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
I cross my arms over my chest to shield myself. “Yes.”
He moves his face closer, his eyes growing dark and serious. “What have you been eating?”
“Crackers and stuff.”
“Stuff?” He glares.
I can’t move. “Crackers.”
“Jesus.” He drags his hand across the top of his head and breaks eye contact. “I knew you’d pull this shit.”
My face scrunches as if I ate something sour. “Excuse me?”
“I knew you wouldn’t take care of yourself. I decided to give you some time alone. Give you time to work shit out and deal with the journey ahead.”
“You make it sound like it’s a road trip.” I snort.
He doesn’t laugh. “I gave you space, and you let yourself fall apart.”
I motion down my body, letting him get another look. “I seem to be in one piece.”
“Barely. A good gust of wind could knock you down.”
“You’re not in charge of me, Bruno,” I snarl.
He moves closer and our noses touch. “Someone needs to be.”
I squeak from the contact.
“Your bullshit is over.”
My eyes grow wide.
“You’ve had your time to deal, throw a fit, cry your eyes out, and mourn the life you had.” He grips me above the elbows and squeezes gently. “Your pity party is over. It’s time to fight.”
“Are you going to be my trainer?” I bite my lip and want to laugh.
His hands pulse as he grips a little tighter before releasing his hold and straightening. “Stop being a smartass.”
I smile up at him, feigning innocence. “I’m not.”
He walks behind me, running his finger down my side. I shiver from the lightness, from the sexual nature of the motion. After his hand curves around my ass, he swats it. “In the shower.”
I look at him over my shoulder and refuse to soothe the skin he’s just struck. “Alone.”
There’s no smile on his face. “You’re too skinny and frail. Someone has to be there in case you start to fall.”
I growl, but he growls louder. I roll my eyes and stomp toward the bathroom with my arms crossed. “I’m not fucking you!” I called out.
“I don’t fuck twigs, babe. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
I glare at him as I stand next to the shower. “I’m not a twig. You fuckin’ lie, Bruno. I’m sure you’ve fucked every skinny bitch
