Secrets of a Shy Socialite

by Wendy S. Marcus

  She needed to touch him, feel him, absorb his certainty of a positive outcome, so she placed her hand in his larger one which he tightened around her. For some reason the gesture gave her hope, made her feel safe and protected.

  “My mom left when I was two,” Justin said, looking at the table as if remembering. “When I was old enough to understand, Grandma Abbie told me it was because my dad didn’t take care of my mom the way she needed to be taken care of. I remember telling her when I grew up I’d do such a good job of taking care of my wife she’d never leave me. And I’d take such good care of my kids they’d love me forever. Grandma Abbie smiled,” and so did he at the memory, “patted my head and called me a good boy.” He shifted his gaze to their joined hands, loosened his grip, and ran his thumb back and forth over the backs of her fingers.

  “Then Grandma Abbie died, leaving me alone with my dad for so many years, and I forgot my promise to her. As I grew I started following dad’s egocentric example, becoming more and more like him each year. Oh I’d tell myself I was a better person. A better man. That given the chance I would be a better husband and father. Then, like on some subconscious level I thought myself incapable, I never let any woman get close enough for anything resembling a relationship so I wouldn’t fail.” He looked up.

  “Then you came along and gave me two beautiful daughters who each share a part of us. Never have I wanted to do the right thing as much as I do now. You’re my chance, Jena.” He added his other hand hers in both of his. “To prove I’m a better man than my dad. To prove I’m worthy of being a husband and a father. That I’m capable of taking care of a family the right way. The way I’d promised my Grandma Abbie I would. The way you and the girls deserve. Let me, Jena. Give me that chance. Marry me.”

  Jena’s eyes watered at his heartfelt words. She wanted so much to say yes. But the thought of Justin looking at her with the distaste and regret she’d seen in her father’s eyes when he’d looked at his wife’s post-surgical body kept her quiet.

  “Say something,” Justin prompted.

  She couldn’t.

  “You okay?” he asked, squeezing her hand.

  No. She was so far from okay she doubted they were even in the same time zone. “I need time to think.” She yanked her hand from his and stood. “And you need to get ready for work.” She hurried toward the door. “We can talk about this later.” And she ran from his condo like the coward she was.

  * * *

  Later that night, after a hellacious shift on his day job, and a stop at a jewelry store after his ten hour day, Justin returned home to his quiet condo hungry, dirty and exhausted, yet determined to convince Jena to marry him despite the niggling apprehension that’d cropped up during the day. He threw his keys on the counter noticing one of Jena’s amazing chocolate cakes sitting on an elegant crystal plate at the center of his kitchen table. He picked up the card beside it and read the inscription out loud, “Sorry I missed your birthday. Hope it was happy. If you’re hungry when you get home I made you a meatloaf. It’s in the refrigerator. Jena.”

  Not the “Yes I’ll marry you” he’d hoped for, but thoughtful and appreciated. With all she had going on she’d taken time out of her day to cook for him. Because, he’d realized over the past couple of days, that’s what Jena did. She took care of others. And while he considered himself fortunate to be on the receiving end of her caring, he couldn’t help but wonder who took care of her?

  Fifteen minutes later, showered and changed, Justin sat down to dinner and an ice cold beer. He took a forkful of actual home-cooked meal into his mouth, closed his eyes, and almost wept with joy. Man she could cook!

  His hesitation toward marriage eased a bit. Hoping to alleviate it further—believing knowledge is power—Justin pushed his plate to the side and reached for his laptop, needing to learn about Jena’s genetic condition, the surgical procedure she would be undergoing and the care she’d need afterward. And while he was at it, he hoped gain some understanding as to what would drive a perfectly healthy young woman to undergo a drastic body-altering surgery that carved off a female’s most prominent, identifiable and let’s be honest, arousable attributes of her sexual identity.

  Once booted up he typed in keyword: breast cancer gene. Over the next three hours he added BRCA2, mother with breast cancer, dense breasts cancer risk, treatment breast cancer, survival rates breast cancer, and prophylactic bilateral mastectomies to his search.

  He scanned dozens of articles, both technical medical pieces and detailed personal accountings from women, some Jena’s age, a few in various stages of dealing with cancer others recovering from prophylactic bilateral mastectomies. And blogs. With pictures. He could have done without the pictures. Yet some unknown force had compelled him to look.

  By the time he shut down his computer Justin had a newfound understanding of Jena’s plight and acceptance of her plan. But thanks to the pictures, he also had a newfound concern over whether he actually possessed the strength of character necessary to give Jena what she would need to help her through recovery and dealing with the altered body image he’d read about. He shook his head to scatter the images now plaguing him. Scarred, unnatural, irregularly shaped mounds. Without nipples.

  Suddenly Jena’s willingness to marry a gay man made sense, to avoid rejection from a straight man. A man like Justin.

  Would he still be attracted to her after surgery? Would his body respond to her in the same way it did now? God help him, what if he wasn’t? What if it didn’t? What if he couldn’t?

  Idiot. He smacked both palms on the table, the burn bringing his focus where it belonged. This wasn’t about sex and it wasn’t about him. It was about Jena, the mother of his daughters, an integral member of their four person family unit. And the tremendous respect he had for her strength in making what had to be an excruciatingly difficult decision meant to prolong her life in the face of a well-documented, very real, and significantly elevated risk of developing cancer.

  A decision he’d belittled by making it about breast removal, when it was really about so much more. Selfish jerk.

  Her words haunted him. As long as I have the choice, I choose life. And if choosing life means I have to live it without a pair of breasts and a uterus, then so be it. And, I am more than a pair of breasts.

  Yes she was. Jena Piermont was a dedicated, loving mother, an amazingly strong, courageous woman who he’d be lucky and honored to have as a wife. And he couldn’t wait until morning to tell her. He picked up his cell phone to check the time. Ten thirty-one. He didn’t want to wake her or the babies. So he dialed Ian.

  “Hey,” he said when Ian answered. “What’s going on down there?”

  “Well, Jaci’s out of her mind with worry about Jena. She’s been pacing back and forth and talking to herself for the past half hour.”

  “Who’s on the phone?” Jaci asked in the background. “Is that Justin? Give me the phone.”

  “Good luck,” Ian said. Then Jaci came on. “Justin Rangore you had better tell me what’s going on with my sister or our friendship is over.”

  “Hi, Jaci.”

  “Don’t you ‘Hi, Jaci’ me all friendly like nothing’s wrong. Jena’s gone quiet. She barely said two words since Ian and I got home from work. From the looks of my condo and my refrigerator she’s been cooking and cleaning all day, typical upset Jena behavior. She served us this elaborate feast for dinner then disappeared into her room without eating a bite. Something’s going on and I know you know what it is.”

  Yeah, he did. And as much as he’d like to confide in Jaci and or Ian, his two closest friends, he couldn’t. “I’m coming down,” Justin said, disconnecting the call before Jaci could protest. Then he retrieved the engagement ring he’d bought for Jena—because even if they couldn’t marry before her surgery, at least they could be officially engaged. And his emergency key to Jaci’s condo—in case sh
e went all angry and refused to open the door. And one, no, three condoms—because he was a guy and guys always remained hopeful, and therefore, should always be prepared.

  Too impatient to wait for the elevator he took the stairs down. To find Ian casually leaning with his back to the hallway wall beside Jaci’s door, waiting for him. “I’m supposed to stop you from coming in,” he said half-joking when Justin reached him.

  “You going to try?” If he wanted a fight Justin would give him one.

  “Nah.” He held up two fingers. “On two conditions.”

  “Name them.”

  “One, you look me in the eyes and promise me that you talking to Jena right now is going to make things better and not worse.”

  Justin looked him in the eyes. “I promise.” At least he hoped.

  “Two, you give me some bit of information to relay to Jaci so she’ll calm down enough for me to get her into bed.” Ian smiled. “I’ll take it from there.”

  Justin reached into his pocket, took out the velvet ring box he’d stashed there, and opened the lid to expose the two-carat emerald cut diamond ring, the sales lady assured him Jena would love, inside. She damn well better for all it cost him. “Tell Jaci, I’m here to propose to Jena.” And to let Jena know he supported her decision to opt for surgery and would stand by her and take care of her and the girls. His family. That she wasn’t alone.

  Ian held out his hand to shake Justin’s. “Congratulations, man.” Their hands clasped together, Ian jerked Justin forward and they bumped shoulders in a male sort of hug.

  “I need a favor,” Justin said when they parted. “You okay with moving out so I can move Jena and the girls upstairs with me tomorrow?”’

  Ian smiled. “What’s your rush?”

  If only Justin could tell him. “You okay with that or not? You’re sleeping down here every night anyway.”

  “Tomorrow night work?” Ian asked as he slowly pushed open the door.

  “The earlier the better.”

  Ian looked back. “Keep it down,” he whispered. “Mandy and Maddie are asleep in the living room. Jena’s door is closed. Not sure what she’s doing but there’s no noise coming from her room so I’m guessing the twins are asleep.”

  By the light over the kitchen sink, Justin followed Ian into the condo and down the hall to Jena’s room. He knocked lightly. She didn’t answer. He tried the doorknob. Unlocked. So he turned it and as quiet as he could so he didn’t wake the twins, pushed into the dark room. “Jena?” he whispered.

  A lamp lit up in the far corner of the crowded room revealing two cribs end to end along one wall, a changing table and bureau along another. A laundry basket of folded pink and yellow baby clothes sat on the floor. Two car seats lay stacked one on top of the other in a corner. Two baby swings. Two lay on the floor and play with the dangling thingies things. And hardly any room to move.

  “Justin?” Jena whispered. “Is something wrong?”

  Their cramped living area for one thing. “Where did all this stuff come from?”

  “I wanted to make the condo look nice for Ian and Jaci so I moved all of Abbie and Annie’s stuff in here so everyone would stop tripping over it.”

  She sat up in the bed her hair a mess, her eyes puffy and rimmed in red, the tip of her nose a dark pink and asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve spent the last couple of hours on the computer doing research, which is why I’m down here so late. Sorry about that, by the way.”

  “No problem,” she said, looking at him. Wary. “What did you research?”

  “The breast cancer gene. Breast cancer in general. Prophylactic bilateral mastectomies.”

  She threw her pretty, bare legs over the side of the bed. “If you came down here to try to talk me out of—”

  He sat down beside her. “I came down to tell you I am humbled by your courage.”

  She stared at him with watery blue eyes.

  “I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in your situation, and if I were, I don’t know if I’d have the balls to do what you’re planning to do.” He took her small hands into his, brought them to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “There’s no one I would rather have as a role model for our daughters than you. They need you. We need you. And selfish man that I am, I want you to take advantage of whatever treatment will enable you to remain here on earth with us for as long as possible.”

  Tears spilled out of the corners of both of her eyes.

  “You were right,” he said, feeling somewhat choked up himself. “You are so much more than a pair of breasts. You’re the mother of my children, a woman I care about, a woman who matters to me.”

  She reached for a tissue and dabbed at her nose. “Thank you. But—”

  “No buts.” Justin stood, pulled the ring box from his pocket and went down on one knee. “I don’t know what the future will bring.” He flipped open the lid and tilted the sparkly diamond in her direction. “I do know that I want you, me, Abbie and Annie to be a family, a real, traditional family that lives together and takes care of one another. Not to be a complete cornball, but in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad.” He looked up at her and tilted his head. “You want me to keep going?”

  She gave him a small, almost shy smile and shook her head.

  “So what do you say, Jena? Will you marry me?”

  The smile faded.

  “Before you answer there’s something I think you should know,” he started out, hoping to make a point. “It’s not easy keeping this physique in tip top shape. And with me being a family man and all I doubt I’ll have much time to get to the gym.” He stuck out his belly and patted it. “Based on tonight’s sampling of your culinary skills, I’m thinking there’s a real good chance if you marry me you may be taking on a future three-hundred-pounder. You willing to marry me knowing that in the months and years to come my body may look totally different than it looks right now?”

  More tears leaked out of her eyes. But she gifted him with a small nod.

  “Are you willing to marry me, knowing that my body will soon look and feel different than it does right now?” she asked in a soft voice.

  He stared into her eyes. “Yes.” He removed the ring from the box and held it out to her. “Jena Piermont, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  While she thought about it Justin’s heart proved it is actually possible for a heart to beat against a ribcage. Or at least feel that way.

  “I’ll accept your ring,” she said slowly, looking down at him. “I’ll agree to get engaged on one condition.”

  “Anything.”

  “If, after my surgery, you find me...unattractive...”

  “I won’t,” he said, meaning it, wanting it, praying he could manage it.

  She looked away. “And you don’t want to...”

  “Jena,” he said. “Look at me.” She turned her head slowly. “Let’s get through the surgery first. The rest we’ll deal with as it comes up.”

  “But I want you to promise to be honest with me. To talk to me about what you’re thinking and feeling. And if you change your mind about marrying me it’s okay.”

  “I won’t change my mind,” he tried to reassure her.

  But she went on like he hadn’t even spoken. “I couldn’t bear you being unhappy, or turning your back on me in bed, or looking at me with revulsion and regret.”

  Her distress affected him, made him desperate to comfort her. “I promise to be honest with you. But I won’t—”

  She placed to fingers on his lips to quiet him. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear.” Then she held out her hand and he slid the engagement ring onto her finger.

  She lifted her hand up to the light. “This is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.” He doubted that. “I love it.” Wh
ew. “It fits perfectly. How did you...?”

  “I held the hand of every woman in the store until I found one that fit like yours.”

  Justin’s cell phone went off. He grabbed it to silence the ringtone and looked at the screen. “It’s your sister.” He held the phone out to Jena.

  “She knows?”

  “I had to come clean to Ian about my intentions or he threatened not to let me in. But she doesn’t know your answer. And since she’ll probably come barging in here any minute if you don’t tell her...”

  Jena took the phone. “Hi, Jaci. Yes, Justin proposed.” She smiled. “Yes, I said yes.” Jaci screamed loud enough to startle one of the

  babies. “Shshsh,” Jena said. Then she looked up at him, uncertain and said into the phone, “I don’t know. Definitely by our birthday.”

  Justin leaned forward. “But we’re moving in together tomorrow.” Because his future wife needed him to take care of her and their daughters. He said a quick prayer that he’d be able to do a decent job of it.

  “Perfect,” Jena said to Jaci. Then, “Now I’ve got to go. Justin’s pawing at my pajamas.”

  He wasn’t but took that as his cue to start.

  One of the babies made some sucking noises. Shoot. “How long do we have until they wake up?” he asked, lifting Jena’s silky pink negligée over her head. “Love this, by the way.”

  Jena removed his shirt. “Probably around fifteen minutes.” She grabbed his hand and yanked him onto the bed. “Longer if you keep real quiet and you let me turn off the light,” she teased.

  “Longer is good.” He slid her pink lacy panties down to her ankles while she reached for the lamp. “For the record, I am a huge fan of sexy lingerie.”

  She pulled him down on top of her and whispered, “So am I.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JENA should have added “Frontal lobotomy” to her enormous list of Things To Do The Day Before Surgery, because adding “Move in with Justin”, “Cancel hotel reservation and nurse”, and “Change will to make Justin the sole legal guardian of the girls” showed a severe decision-making impairment in need of immediate remediation.