Affairytale : A Memoir

by C. J. English

  “Honey, I don’t think they can do that,” Grant said. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting, I wish I could do something.”

  You could propose.

  I thought it, I didn’t actually blurt it out.

  The nurses warned me that surgery might bring on my period, but they should have issued a flood warning for what showed up on the second day. I laid in the wetness not caring—because helping me, cleaning me, would require moving my legs, opening my knees, changing the sheets——during all of which I would have to incur being moved and touched and talked to. It was absolute misery and I’d named all the nurses Annie.

  I stared at the white board that hung on the wall at the end of my bed and each time a new Annie came on duty he or she would write their name on that board so I would know what to hate them by. Below their name in red dry erase marker was what I was allowed to eat. At the end of day two it read Vegetarian Ice Chips. Not clear liquids, popsicles, apple juice or sprite. Only chipped ice. Vegetarian chipped ice.

  Day Three: Vegetarian Ice Chips

  The Annie’s expected me to get up and shower on day three. They’d removed some of the tubes and were planning their attack to bathe me.

  “Mom, please don’t let them touch me, will you help me?” I begged. My mom would be gentle; she would sympathize with my misery.

  Mom was clumsy and fumbled with the tangle of tubes that had to go with me into the shower. Incapacitated by pain and humiliation, I cried, I couldn’t answer her questions. I barely knew she was speaking until she cried with me as she gently took off my gown and saw the incisions underneath. I sat on the white stool under the running water.

  Shooting pain jabbed my entire torso merely from the act of sitting. The weight of my body on top of the newly bored holes in my vertebrate caused pain beyond comprehension. Mom pulled the nurse’s cord as I slumped over dangling on the edge of consciousness.

  When I was pronounced still alive, my mom pulled her shirt over her head and stood before me in an old white sports bra that was now gray. The elastic was gone and two boobs became one underneath its thin Lycra shelf. It was the sports bra I’d tried to get rid of that my frugal mom deemed still usable and re-purposed as her own.

  She took off her shoes, rolled up her jeans, and stood beside me in the shower gently dousing me with water. She washed and conditioned my smelly hospital hair, and soaped my body avoiding the incisions now covered in wet tape. I sat lifeless, naked and hungry.

  Day Four- Clear Liquids

  I fantasized about Annie walking in with 7-Up or ginger ale, or a lemon-lime popsicle. I salivated at the thought. So when she strolled in with in chicken broth in a brown plastic bowl, “Chicken broth? I’m not eating fucking chicken broth. I’m a vegetarian.” I said. “Remember, vegetarian ice chips?” I jutted out my chin and pointed to the wall in disgust.

  “This is what the doctor ordered for you,” she said. “You can’t have solid foods.”

  She set down the bowl of steaming, stinking liquid chicken on the tray in front of me then opened a straw and dropped it in. I nearly kicked it across the room.

  “I know I can’t have solids. I don’t want solids, I want liquids. Clear, vegetarian liquids.”

  “Well that’s not what’s written in your chart,” she walked toward the door to retrieve a clip board.

  “It’s been written up there for the last three days,” I said. “Can I please just have some apple juice or 7-Up. Something not animal?”

  “I’ll double check,” she said in the most annoying nasally voice then walked out leaving the boiled animal juice in front of me as if she might come back and make me drink it.

  I stared at it, disgruntled and hungry and wondered how many days without food I would need to go before chicken broth looked appetizing. At least twenty-one I’d figured. I’d done a fourteen day fast on liquids before and I knew I could do at least another week.

  Fortunately I didn’t have to, Annie came back with two small foil covered containers of apple juice and a new straw.

  “Here you go,” she said peeling back the lid on one of the containers, inserting the straw then bending down to put it in my mouth. Before she left, she went to the white board and wrote “Vegetarian Clear Liquids” under my name.

  Over the next few days they made me walk in small increments with a walker, despite my protests—after they dosed me with pain killers other than morphine, which I now knew I had an allergy to. Grant held my elbow as I walked and made jokes about my bare butt. When no one was looking, and I couldn’t do anything about it, he stood behind me, opened my gown, gave a few dry humps to the air between us and said something like, “Baby, you look so good,” followed by diabolical laughter and an apology. I wanted to laugh, but it hurt.

  After what seemed like a year in the hospital, Grant drove us the four torturous hours from Minneapolis back to our home.

  Chapter 45

  Today is C.J.’s first day out of the hospital following her spine surgery. By all indicators the posterior/anterior fusion went very well. The Doc explained that 10mm of spacing was needed between L4-L5 and 12mm Between L5-S1! This means that C.J. is nearly 1.0 inches taller than before the surgery!

  It’s has been a very trying few days in the hospital, but we are home now snug and sound, and are beginning the anticipated long recovery (which was expected)

  Tonight we photographed the strange protruding alien from C.J.’s front incision. I must admit, it looks very curious, as if she is Sigourney Weaver in the movie ‘Alien’!

  More to come…

  -Grant

  Chapter 46

  “ALOHA `OE.”

  —“FAREWELL TO YOU”

  7 Months Post Surgery

  I blinked my eyes open somewhere over the Pacific Ocean but I didn’t see blue. The white clouds below formed a false land that resembled the familiar snow covered tundra of home. To my left was an empty seat.

  My mouth was dry from the oxygen-deprived stale-air stink that had been blowing on my face while I was trying to sleep. I reached up and twisted the gray knob to shut the vent, then dug out my phone so I could check the time.

  4 hours left. Ugh, my back hurts.

  My brain throbbed inside my head and my body was permanently contorted around the old blue vinyl seat to which I was strapped. It’d been seven months since the surgery and I was doing remarkably well. On track to make an extraordinary recovery, better than anyone expected—miraculous even. But seven months was still a third of the time it would take to heal.

  Sitting was the worst, and sitting through hours of flying made me act out in ways only a food-chicken in a battery cage could understand. I bounced my knees, knocked my head against the window, let out deep annoying sighs, and made jerky frustrated movements. Pangs of anxiety over what this trip was really about stretched my already bulging patience. The moment the wheels touched down I checked my messages.

  4 new text messages.

  Honey, I miss u. :( Will

  send a pic. u send me 1,

  2! Don’t get caught!

  Honey, ask for some

  blankies. :) u’ll be able

  to sprawl out! Strap urself

  in the middle seat, and

  lie down after takeoff!

  :) I’m there with u, love. :)

  Ah, good morning, love:)

  Slept okay, I think. I had

  a dream about babies.

  I thought only women had

  those dreams! :)

  Looks like ur delayed about

  12mins. I’m for watching

  u! More like watching over u:)

  I was looking out the window at the tropical landscape as the plane taxied to the gate when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

  Grant’s voice rumbled with desire, “I’m so glad you’re here baby, I’ve missed you so much.” The moment I heard his voice, the same grip of love that commandeered me a decade ago still held me hopelessly captive. “Honey, it’s so beautiful here,” he continued,
“I can’t wait to show you everything.” Then he lowered his voice like he was about to tell me a secret, “We should start looking for a place here, somewhere we can spend a few months each year.” Before I could even comprehend what he’d just suggested. “Come out the main doors you’ll see me right in front. I’m in a silver Malibu. Mwah!”

  A place here? Maybe you should ask me to marry you first.

  I slowly stood up and whimpered a little as I shimmied into the aisle and reached for my carry-on overhead. I stepped off the plane and into the humid air, tied my hoodie around my black pants and exposed my white skin to the warm weather paradise. I closed my eyes and breathed in the moment.

  So this is Maui…I love it already.

  He better propose.

  The silver Malibu was parked on the curb in the pick-up zone and Grant was standing by the driver’s side door looking over the hood in dark tinted sunglasses. I giggled as he walked toward me with his arms open, proudly wearing a Tommy Bahama button up shirt clad with palm trees and sunsets. He lunged for me and gave me a pick-me-up-hug, I winced but welcomed his eager embrace. I was so lonely without him and feeling his love wrapped around me was an overwhelming relief. Being without him, even for a few days illuminated just how much I needed him in my life forever, and how scared I was that at any moment it might all go away.

  “Hi, baby. I missed you. How was your flight? I tried to get you on the shortest route here but it’s pretty much the same from the coast.” He kissed my lips before I could answer.

  “That plane ride sucked.” I stepped back and looked up at endless balmy sky and squinted my eyes, “But it’s so beautiful here! It’s worth the hours of sticky seats and stinky arm pits.”

  He laughed, “Yes. Yes, it is. Let’s go, baby! What should we do?” He threw my carry-on bag in the backseat, helped me slide into the passenger seat, and then shuffled around to the driver’s side.

  “I need to get changed and clean up, it’ll only take me ten minutes, then maybe we can…” I winked and he instantly knew.

  He looked at me with a surprised, devious smile. “That’s a great idea.”

  I was in disbelief that I was there, with him, that it really had come to this, that I think…this is where he would propose. It was time. I had compromised on the one thing, the only thing I said I would not compromise on. We’d moved in together. He’d sold his place and bought us a brand-new home on nearly an acre of land.

  I desired more than anything to spend every night with him, to start our family and live under the same roof, how could I resist? But I didn’t think it was too much to ask to be engaged before we moved in together, especially since I had a daughter who was moving in with us. It was my only request, the only thing I said I would not budge on.

  I budged. I moved Dani and I in. When I would remind him of my precarious situation, how important it was to me that I don’t move my daughter in with “mom’s boyfriend,” his response was bleak.

  “I just can’t see how right now. I just put money down on our house. I’ll need to wait, and save a bit longer.” He would say and I would drop it.

  I guess I believed him. Although I had a horrible sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, Dylan was right—that he would never have the guts to marry again. That it was entirely possible his delay had nothing to do with money and had everything to do with a serious fear of marriage. Especially marriage to a woman who cheated on her last husband.

  He had helped me with my rent, monthly expenses and paid a few thousand dollars of my medical bills while I was vomiting in his bathroom and seizing on his kitchen floor after surgery. I felt obligated to cut him some slack after how much he’d supported me. I was grateful and didn’t want to seem any other way. I tried to put it out of my mind and enjoy our lives together, unconditionally.

  Our hotel was situated right on the beach, a picture perfect holiday resort with hibiscus lined sidewalks and white plumeria flowers scattered across the grounds.

  When we got to our room I took a shower, rinsed out the stale-air stink from my hair then lathered myself in coconut-lime-verbena, the complimentary scent. I did a quick once over with water proof mascara and tinted sun screen, even for a quickie, I always wanted to look and smell delicious. I tied my hair back and put on a lacy bra.

  “Did you bring the lube?” I hollered to him from the bathroom sink.

  “No…did you?”

  I imagined him around the corner with the lube in his hand, laying naked in bed, under the clean white sheets, tan and warm, hard and waiting.

  “No I couldn’t find it at home. I figured you brought it.” I said.

  “Nope. I guess we can pick some up at the Safeway later.” He said, sounding disappointed.

  He was as I expected him to be, hands behind his head, naked body flimsily covered in a white sheet. The bed sunk down as I sat on the edge. I kicked off my flip flops, dropped my shower towel and hurried under, sliding my cold toes up and down his warm legs and snuggling close.

  His skin was as flawless as I remembered it. I ran my hands up and down his torso, then down passed his hips. He slid his not-so-sneaky hand underneath my pillow and pulled out a bottle of purple and black personal lubricant.

  “You did bring it!” I yelled.

  “Of course I brought it!”

  I swiped it from his hand and inspected the shimmering plastic bottle then snapped open the lid.

  “Honey,” he pulled my hips in close and pressed hard against me. “I’m so glad you’re here, I missed you. I love you so much.” He watched his fingers as they slid though my hair, then looked into my eyes, lingering, as if he might say something more.

  “I love you, too, baby. Thank you so much for bringing me here,” I said as he traced his eyes and finger tips down my flank then over my hips and hills. “But did you really have to make me come alone?” I pushed out my lip and pouted.

  “C.J., I told you why I came here first,” he sat up and tilted his head, surprised by my complaint. “You said you were up for an adventure.”

  “Traveling alone isn’t an adventure, it’s boring and lonely.”

  “I just wanted to be ready for you. Remember, I told you I had diving trips planned that I wanted to get out of the way so we could be together.” He said it in earnest.

  Ready for me? Maybe he has an entire wedding planned!

  An eager, one track-minded girl would make that leap. I imagined that our families were on the island. Dylan and Nikki would surely make the trip in secret, and Grant’s sister, she must be there too. So that’s why he sent me alone.

  “I forgive you for making me fly here alone. You’re still a very good boyfriend,” I said even thought I hated referring to him as my boyfriend and he hated it too. So I did it as often as possible to annoy him into action.

  I seduced the sensitive area around his inner thighs and he let out a little pleasure filled moan, “Honey, after sex, and dinner, I have a surprise for you.”

  I pushed up to my elbows, “what is it, tell me now.”

  “I can’t tell you,” he said, “it’s a surprise,” then he guided me to lie down on my back and slithered his sun kissed body on top of mine.

  ***

  I’ll pick up some wine on

  the way home. Let’s

  celebrate, right?

  Chapter 47

  “WIKI-WIKI”

  — “HURRY UP”

  “Humahumanukanukaapuaa. Of course I know how to say it,” I shrugged my shoulders and crinkled my face as if to say why would you even ask me that one, “everyone knows that one, your turn.” I pointed to the next painting that hung on the wall in the narrow hotel hallway. It was a neon yellow fish with a black and white clown face.

  “Kīkākapu.” He said without stuttering a syllable.

  “Whatever,” I slapped his arm and furrowed at his quick response, “you don’t know.” Then latched my arm in his and tugged him along putting an end to our annunciation game. A game that inevitably he’d win since h
e knew how to pronounce words like “indubitably.”

  It was an idyllic Hawaiian night. We rolled down the car windows and let the salty air blow across our skin as we drove along the Maui shoreline, rolling blue ocean to the right, and lush volcanic peaks to the left. It was a mid-western girl’s paradise. A place I hoped to visit someday but never imagined I’d be sharing it with him, the man that was always so out of reach.

  I looked out in awe over the water, watching the locals paddle their long boards into the sunset and parents with kids enjoying one last splash in the shallows. Every cove was teeming with laid back souls, absorbing every last speck of daylight out of the sun-drenched day.

  We drove for half an hour listening to Hawaiian radio before Grant pulled onto a narrow, reddish earthen road leading to a most spectacular lookout.

  A mammoth cliff had risen out of the water a million years ago now we were standing on its plateau looking over the water to the farthest point on the horizon. There were other tourists there too, they marveled at the seascape and pointed off into the distance. Amateur photographers set up their tripods and peered through the long black barrels hoping to catch an award winning shot.

  This is a spectacular place to propose!

  I scanned the lookout to see if my family was hiding behind some large boulder. Nope.

  “Look! Over there!” Grant pointed out into the ocean.

  I’d missed it, but caught a glimpse of the deluge after. Then I realized exactly why we were there. Whales. I’d forgotten about the whales. I’d never see whales in the wild and I didn’t know you could see whales from the shore. I thought you had to pay, then take a boat tour to see them. Had I known I was going to Hawaii, I would have researched these things, but the trip was such a surprise, I barely had time to pack, or lose five pounds, or get a new swimsuit.

  The night before Grant left was the first time I found out about the trip. He started acting strange after work, smiling non-stop, playing island music, dancing, and drinking on a weeknight. And he stared at me continually with a fuck-me grin. He played romantic island music in the bathroom, poured bubble bath into the Jacuzzi tub and stripped me nude to the sounds of the mandolin. After a foot rub, sensual kissing all over my body, and a surprise me-only orgasm under an mountain of fizzing suds, he finally spilled the secret he’d been hiding for months.