Julie chuckles. “So we started dating. The good kind of dating where you leave all your baggage behind. We didn’t ask each other about our jobs or siblings. I didn’t tell him about Roman or my failed marriage. He didn’t tell me about his three daughters and his ex-wife who was diagnosed with cancer two months after he asked her for a divorce. You see, we lived in the moment. Moments filled with questions like, ‘What do you think of that waitress’s purple eyeshadow or where should we go for ice cream? Should we get a tattoo? Do you think anyone could hear us if we fucked in that bathroom?’”
“Christ, Jules …” I close my eyes.
“I never smoked a joint or shot up or even got a prescription for an antidepressant. Yet, I felt high all the time with Nick. He gave me what I needed before I even knew myself what that was. And I gave him a life without questions or guilt. We didn’t have to fit because we weren’t trying to be anything more than a moment.”
When I open my eyes, Julie blinks and the tears break free. This time, she makes no effort to stop them or bat them away.
“Sometimes we would meet for coffee and just sit in the back corner of a cafe and drink in complete silence until one or the other stood from our chair and walked out. That’s messed up, right? Meeting up with someone just so you don’t have to sit alone and drink coffee. But it was perfect—a time and place to just be without feeling alone. Without feeling the need to pollute the air with words.”
“What happened, Jules?”
She pulls the sleeve of her long-sleeved T-shirt over her hand and uses it to wipe her cheeks. “Three weeks ago, we were sitting in our usual cafe, in our usual spot, drinking our usual drinks. He got up to leave first. But instead of brushing his fingertips along my arm, his unspoken ‘goodbye, see you tomorrow,’ he instead stopped just inches behind me so our backs were to each other. And he told me.” She wipes more tears.
“Told you what?”
“My ex-wife’s name is Jennifer. She has her first chemo treatment today. My girls are Elisha, Kylee, and Becca. It’s time for me to go home. Thank you for this. I will never forget it.” She sniffles, shaking her head, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “He went from a beautiful mystery to an ugly reality. But I need reality. For the first time in three years, I’m ready for reality. It finally fits. The switch flipped. And everything that tore me apart before Nick, feels like the only thing that can put me back together. Like the poison is the cure. Like it’s time for me to go home too. Only … mine is no longer waiting for me.”
We sit in silence for many minutes as her confessions hang in the air with nowhere to go.
“You’re my reality, Eli. You’re my home. You. Me. And Roman. And I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve a second chance. But I want one. And I have to…” she pulls in a shaky breath to steady her words “…I have to believe that our love that has spanned more than two decades and the creating of another life is greater than my months with Nick and your weeks with Dorothy. I have to believe that these other people came into our lives to bring us perspective and bring us back together.”
I’m tired. My pain medication has kicked in and done its job. The part of my brain that processes mind-blowing confessions is out of commission. So I lean my head back, close my eyes, and succumb to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I’m Here for You
Julie and I don’t speak of our conversation for the following two weeks. We fall into a routine of meals, laughter with Roman, television, patient updates from the hospital, and visits from family. The silver lining is my dad’s willingness to help me bathe. He pretty much treats me like a vehicle. I feel thoroughly bruised from the high pressure setting he chooses on the bath hose nozzle. But … I don’t have to deal with the awkwardness of my mom or Julie bathing me.
Dorothy? Well, she won’t answer my calls, but she offers short one and two-word texts in response to my texts.
Me: How was your day?
* * *
Dorothy: Fine.
* * *
Me: Can I see you soon?
* * *
Dorothy: Not sure.
* * *
Me: Are you okay?
* * *
Dorothy: Yeah.
She offers enough emotional reassurance to make any desperate man jump off the side of a tall building. But I’m not that lucky, because I can’t move my fucking body far enough on my own to even get to a tall ledge.
I feel like she’s running from me, and I can’t chase her. My injuries prevent me from physically going to her. And I fucking hate it. She won’t talk, won’t come see me, won’t offer any reassurance that we’re okay.
How ignorant of me to think we’re okay. We’re not okay. I grilled her about a stupid imaginary London getaway, and then I pressured her to tell me her plans thirty years into the future. Of course she ran. Any person in their right mind would run and never look back.
“If you don’t stop frowning, that line on your forehead will only get deeper.” Mom winks, glancing up from her knitting. She’s keeping an eye on me while Julie and my dad take Roman to the park.
“My fall didn’t take my life, but it feels like it ruined it. I can’t work. I can’t navigate. I can’t bathe on my own. I can’t …” I shake my head. Depression works its way into the fourth week of my healing process.
“Yesterday, since you haven’t been bringing me Friday lunch,” she smirks, “I walked over to the hospital and left a message for Dorothy. She messaged me back and agreed to have a cup of coffee with me on her break.”
I’m shocked. And a little pissed off that she waited a full day to tell me this. But mostly I’m painfully envious that she saw Dorothy.
“How is she?”
“Better than you.” Mom chuckles. “She’s Dorothy. Focused on school and work. I think that’s a good focus for her right now. Those are things she can control.”
“What is that supposed to mean? She could come see me. God knows I’ve been trying to get her to commit to even a quick phone conversation.”
“Maybe now is not the best time to talk with her.”
“Whose side are you on?” My insides tighten, pulling at healing wounds, making new emotional cuts in my heart. I’m ready to crawl out of my skin. I need out of this cast, out of the house … I need out of my mind.
“Yours, dear. Always yours. Whose side are you on is the only question that matters.”
“Side? How do you figure that I have a side to choose?”
“Because Julie talked with me.”
Silence steps into the room, surrendering only to the hum of the furnace kicking on. Julie told my mom. Why did she do that when I gave her absolutely no response to her confession? Not a single word.
“You’ve wanted this since the day she left you. You’ve wanted her back.”
“Ye—ah … I sure have. Even when I’ve hated her, I’ve still loved her.”
“That speaks volumes.” She sets her knitting to the side.
I fiddle with the drawstrings to my gray hoodie. “It really does. It proves that I’m an expert doormat. A crippled, lovesick man who refused to accept reality and move on.”
“Well, yes, those would be your sisters’ words. They’d try to disown you if you took Julie back.”
I nod.
“I’ve hated the pain you’ve held on to by trying to hold on to her, but it’s one of the most incredible qualities about you. Your love is so unconditional. Your wedding vows meant something to you. And the way you fought for your family broke my heart, but it also gave me unfathomable pride. It’s easy to love someone when they love you back, when they want you, when they need you. It’s not near as easy to have that same deep love when they seem to despise you or when they kick you out of their life.”
“Do you think it’s Dorothy? Is this jealousy Julie’s feeling?”
“I don’t think so. I think this was going to happen with or without Dorothy. I’m sure seeing you with Dorothy makes Julie feel anxious, like she needs t
o do something quickly before she loses you for good.”
I lean my head back, rubbing my hand down my face on a grumble. “Oh man … fuck my life.”
“What can I do? What do you need from me? Your mom.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“You’re nervous.” Mom shuts off the car.
I stare at the front door to Dorothy’s house. “No. Maybe. Well, it’s because she lives with her parents. If they’re here, they’ll answer the door. Then I have to explain myself to them. That part makes me a little nervous.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m out of my comfort zone here as well since I’m the mother dropping off her injured thirty-eight-year-old son with an overnight bag. Hi, could you look after my boy? He needs help getting around, going to the bathroom, and cooking food. Here’s my number. Call me if he’s a burden.”
I laugh. “Yes. This is crazy. Hopefully my patient transporter, EMT, nursing student girlfriend will show up and demonstrate her caregiving skills.”
“Maybe I should stick around.”
“That would be safe. But I don’t want to be safe. I don’t want her to feel like she has an easy out.”
“Eli, you need to let her go or seriously hold on to her, but don’t string her along.” She rests her hand on mine.
“I know.”
She helps me out of the car as best that she can and situates my crutches under my arms. Yes, I’m stubbornly using both crutches even with my ribs protesting. Physical therapy has helped.
It takes us forever to get to the door, three knocks before Kellie answers the door, and one huge breath of courage to deliver my speech.
“Oh my gosh, Eli! W-what an unexpected surprise. Dorothy didn’t say you were coming. She’s not even home from work yet. Come in. Do you need some help? Hi, Lori. So nice to see you again.”
“It’s so nice to see you too. Sorry for the unexpected disruption.”
“It’s no problem. Have a seat wherever you’ll be most comfortable. Actually the most comfortable chair is in Dorothy’s game room, but there’s only one.”
“Perfect.” I work my way to the game room and her expensive reclining chair with all the bells and whistles.
“Oh … okay. Can I get either of you something to drink while you wait?”
“I’m not staying.” Mom wrinkles her nose while depositing my overnight bag just inside the door to the game room as I ease into the soft fabric, letting my crutches drop to the floor on either side of the chair.
“Oh.” Kellie narrows her eyes at my bag before shifting her attention to my mom and then to me.
“Dorothy hasn’t been able to make time to come see me, so I thought I’d surprise her. But since it’s late, and I can’t drive, I brought a bag. I’ll figure out how to get home tomorrow. Hope this is okay.” I smile.
Kellie grins as if my intentions are quite clear. She most likely knows enough about the previous weeks to know that Dorothy simply isn’t ready to see me. “Sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
Yeah, she knows.
“Great.” Mom clasps her hands next to her chest. “Looks like you’re good, Eli. So … I’ll head home.”
“He’s in good hands.” Kellie winks at my mom and walks her to the door.
They murmur a few more things to each other, but I can’t make out the words. After the door shuts, Kellie brings me some water and a bag of microwave popcorn.
“Dorothy really misses Roman.” She hands me the popcorn and stands next to the chair, tightening the sash on her robe.
“He adores her. She’s his superhero. I’m sure he would love to show her his Flash costume that my mom and Julie bought him for Halloween. He’s going to have it worn out before he gets a chance to go out trick or treating in it.”
Kellie laughs. “Oh Dorothy would love to see it.”
“Kellie, I’m … I’m sorry. I feel like I’m failing Dorothy at the moment because I’m injured and dealing with my ex-wife living with me again and my family always around helping me. I just …”
“Dorothy thinks you belong with Dr. Hathaway.” She blurts the words out so quickly, it takes me a few seconds to process them. “I want to believe that she’ll tell you that to your face, but it might come out as a different version. However, those were the words she said to me. And it’s not because she doesn’t like you. She does … so much so. But … you need to know where her head is right now, and I fear she won’t be able to adequately articulate her thoughts. You see, her grandfather cheated on her grandmother many years ago. Not just cheated, he fell in love with another woman. My brother was three at the time—Roman’s age. I hadn’t even been conceived. My father left his new love to go back to his family. My mother took him back. Had she not taken him back, I wouldn’t be here, therefore Dorothy wouldn’t be here. She knows the story. It’s been retold to her many times.”
After careful thought, I return an easy nod and a tiny smile. What can I say? Maybe nothing. Maybe the right words don’t exist. “Thank you for telling me that.”
She smiles. “Thank you for loving my daughter.”
Outwardly, I keep a soft smile. Inside? It feels like a jagged piece of metal being shoved into my heart.
“Yell if you need anything. I’ll be going to bed soon, but I’m a light sleeper. And Dorothy should be home soon too.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Fuck the Truth
Dorothy
Yes!
Barbecue jackfruit sandwich and apple pie leftovers in the fridge. It’s enough to keep me from taking a walk. With it getting darker earlier, I find it less appealing to take walks on the nights I get home close to nine from the hospital.
After throwing the leftovers on a plate, grabbing a fork, and a glass of water, I make my way to my game room.
“What the fuck?” I flip on the light to the room, seeing a figure in my chair.
“Hello to you too.” Eli pushes the button on the side of the chair, bringing it to an upright position. Then he shuts off the TV before I can register what he’s watching.
“What are you doing here?”
He grins. “I’m here to see you. Is that apple pie?”
I glance at my plate. “Yes.”
“I love apple pie.”
“So?”
Eli chuckles. “So get your ass over here and share some with me.”
“It’s only one piece.”
“Hence the word share.”
My nose wrinkles.
“I won’t go down on you until after we share the pie.” He winks.
I squeeze my legs together.
“I’m joking. Do I look sexually active yet?” He gestures to his cast.
“How’s Romeo?” I sit on the arm of the chair, with my plate on my lap.
“You mean The Flash? Because that’s who he is now that he has his Halloween costume early.” Eli brings up a photo of Romeo Flash on his phone.
“Oh my god, he’s so adorable.” I tap the prongs of the fork against my lower lip while grinning at the picture.
Eli sets his phone down on the other arm of the chair and exhales an audible breath. “Julie wants me back.”
Ugh. My appetite begins to wane. Not because I wasn’t expecting the conversation, I just thought he’d wait until I ate my sandwich and made him beg for pie. “She’s smart. Even if it took her unusually long to come up with the right answer.” I shrug. “All that matters is that she did.”
“The right answer?” he asks.
“Duh. You and Roman. Choosing your family. Of course it’s the right answer.”
“For whom?” Eli’s eyes narrow.
“For Roman. And maybe for you and maybe for her too, but definitely the right choice for Roman.”
“And what about Dorothy Mayhem?”
“What about me?” I take a bite of my sandwich.
“You said you thought you loved me too.”
>
“So?” I mumble over cold barbecue jackfruit.
“And Roman likes you. A lot.”
I swallow and nod. “True. But I’m not his mom. Dr. Hathaway is his mom. And she should get to see him every day. So should you. And now that she’s back in the game, it’s kind of a no-brainer.”
“What if I choose you?”
“Then you’re an idiot.”
“Why?”
I hate his line of questioning. It’s stupid and completely pointless. “Because you have the chance to be with Roman every single day. Nights too. All the weekends and holidays.”
“But I want you.”
I stand and slide the plate onto my entertainment console, making a loud clank. “You are a stupid fucking idiot!” I grab the back of my neck with both hands, digging my fingers into the muscles along my neck to ease the tension. “If I could choose Roman over you, I would in a heartbeat. Does that make you feel better? Does that ease your decision? He’s three, and smart, and funny, and he says all the cute things. And that smile …”
I wipe my cheeks, narrowing my eyes at my hands, a little confused and surprised to see tears. The sting of my eyes and the trickle down my cheek went unnoticed amid my anger. “That smile is life.” I wipe my hands on my pants. “So why in the hell would you choose to live half a life when you can have it all?”
Eli pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing what?”
“Making me feel like a terrible person.” He rubs his eyes and looks at me. They’re red.
Keep This Promise Page 190
