Rising Tides

by Maria Rachel Hooley

  He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh of breath. “We don’t see each other except at work, Kelly.” There was a forced patience in his tone.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t ask that, Gary. I asked how she was doing. It’s a safe question, you know.”

  “Sorry I snapped,” he replied. He noticed a spot of lint on his jacket and plucked it away. “She’s fine.” He rubbed at his eyes. “It’s been one hell of a long day. I’d kind of tried to forget the way we left things. I guess I thought it would make all this seem easier. I was wrong.”

  “Yeah, you were wrong,” I agreed quietly, unwilling to look into his eyes.

  He brushed his dark hair away from his face, and for the first time I noticed two patches of gray at his temples. While my fingers toyed with the blanket, I wondered how long they had been there. Had Gary started to grey when I still lived with him? I shook away the thought as I realized knowing the time didn’t matter. Time wasn’t important. Time ran out.

  “I thought I saw someone coming out of your room,” Gary said.

  “Yes, I had a visitor,” I agreed, not volunteering any further information.

  “Who was he?” Gary’s voice sounded more neutral than jealous. More curious than emotional. He toyed with his sleeves, adjusting the rolls to a perfect evenness all the way around.

  “Just a friend,” I finally managed. A friend who gave me back my life. My gaze drifted to the roses, and the card still attached. My heart pounded furiously in my chest, and I forced myself to resist the temptation to read it.

  “I’m glad someone has been there for you,” he said, looking at me. I traced the line of his mouth, the darkness of his eyes, searching for anger or jealousy. None. We sat like two strangers who found reassurance in quiet pauses as though talking could give pieces of us away, pieces we could never get back.

  “Yes, he is a good friend. He was always there for me.” I closed my eyes and saw Tyler’s face and the incredible pain that had lined his features when I’d asked him to go for the final time. My fingers curled into fists, and I banished his face just as I had banished his body. Yet I knew no matter where my soul journeyed after it had departed my body, it would carry his face, his memory and his love wherever it went, and in some great ocean he would find me waiting.

  Gary walked to the door. “I need some coffee. Do you want anything?”

  I shook my head and waited as he walked out of the room. Once the door had closed behind him, I reached out and plucked the card from amid the thickly clustered roses sitting beside my bed. My hands trembled as I pulled the card from the white envelope. At first, I couldn’t read the words because I knew it would be difficult, but I forced myself.

  Kelly,

  Every night I will still see you lying on the bed, sleeping as the moonlight spills across your face. Your face will be turned to me, and your hair will spill around you like strands of black silk. And I will watch you breathe and know I would give you the air inside my lungs to keep you breathing. And sometime toward dawn you will slip away, probably to swim in that ocean you love so much, and I will wait for the next night to have you again.

  Yours,

  Tyler

  I clasped the card to my chest and felt tears prick my eyes. He had always known how much I loved him. He had seen it flicker beneath starlight and blossom in the sun. He had felt it in the tangle of our bodies when we made love. The heat of his skin and the coolness of mine. The smell of the ocean as we sailed.

  And then I wondered if I would have loved him so fiercely if I hadn’t been diagnosed with cancer. Would we have been so irreversibly joined had I known that tomorrow would have always been?

  Yes.

  God, what a thing to be loved.

  Chapter Eighteen

  That morning, under the doctor’s orders to release me, I changed from the hospital gown into the fresh clothes Gary had brought from our house. In order to get dressed, I removed the small tube which fed me oxygen. The jeans barely fit me, and I tugged the sweater lower over my hips, trying to conceal the way the pants threatened to slide off with each movement. I looked into the mirror and saw the reflection of someone I didn’t recognize. I had made it a point not to look in the mirror, knowing that it only accentuated a body falling apart. Yes, this body was sick. It was getting on a plane with Gary and flying home. My spirit would remain. I clutched the counter as my knees began to wobble, and I slid to the floor. As I fell, I knocked my purse into the sink and my keys clattered in the porcelain basin. Once on the floor, I found my body too weak to stand.

  Gary knocked on the door. “Kel, is everything all right?”

  I gripped the side of the tub and tried to pull myself up, but my arms were too weak. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I took a deep breath. More quick breaths didn’t help. I needed the oxygen.

  “Kel?” Gary called again.

  Frustrated, I tried harder to stand but couldn’t. Gary opened the door. “Damn,” he swore, slipping his hands under my arms and lifting me to my feet. “Are you all right?”

  Despite the distance I wanted to keep between us, I had to lean on him because I felt light-headed. He grabbed the tube and slipped it back under my nose. “Easy,” he said, supporting me.

  Until I felt more steady, I accepted his assistance, not wanting but needing it. I hated feeling as though he hovered around me, waiting, but I knew there was a reason. I had no control over my body. It was betraying me.

  Together we walked down the hall. Although Gary never strayed very far, he didn’t hold onto me and I was thankful for that small reprieve. Instead he pushed the small cart which carried the oxygen tank I was hooked up to. We had made it to the elevator before a nurse called, “Mrs. Jamison?”

  I slowly turned toward her so as not to lose what balance I had. “Yes?”

  The middle-aged nurse smiled at me. “You should have waited for a wheel chair. Hospital policy, you know.” She held out an envelope that Tyler had scrawled my name upon in his neat cursive writing that looked more like a woman’s writing than a man’s. “A man came by after visiting hours last night and asked one of the duty nurses if someone would give this to you when you checked out.”

  For a few seconds I stared at it, mentally tracing the letters of my name, then I reached out and grasped it. As the nurse released it into my grip, the rest of the envelope sagged toward the floor, weighted by its contents. A sudden fear struck through me as though something lay in this envelope I might not want to see.

  Smiling, the nurse patted my hand. “I’ll be right back with that wheelchair so we can send you home right.”

  A thick lump formed in my throat. “Give me a moment,” I said to Gary while I grabbed the cart and wheeled it away from the elevator toward a large window. Turning my back to him, I stopped and tugged at the sealed flap, trying desperately to ignore the frantic pounding of my heart. My fingers pulled it open and I reached in, first finding a letter and then, lying in the bottom of the envelope, I saw the sand dollar with the black leather thong threaded through it. I slowly removed it and clutched it in my hand.

  Slowly I unfolded the letter, written on a cream-colored stationary the blue ink danced across.

  Kelly,

  I know why you asked me to leave. You knew you were dying, and having me near only made it harder for both of us. Yes, I was selfish; I wanted every last moment you had and more. You always gave it. Now it’s my turn. I’ve sailed deep into the ocean, Kelly, to find the dolphins and wait for you. Come when you are ready, love.

  Tyler

  The letter slid from my fingers, and my knees buckled. I descended slowly toward the floor, and the world turned to breath and lights that danced around me. In the distance, I heard Gary calling my name. Arms reached to catch me.

  Images of Tyler sailing a catamaran at night and moonlight spilling down around the sail and hulls filled my head, images of the empty boat waiting, drifting in the ocean. I closed my eyes and realized he had gone to the ocean and dived beneath the blue w
aters without intending to resurface. I clutched the necklace tightly and closed my eyes. Tears streamed down my face. What a powerful weight love was. Tyler was dead.

  Come when you are ready, love.

  “Kelly?” Gary said, touching my face.

  The image of the ocean and sailboat slipped from my mind as my husband leaned over me.

  “Jesus, Kelly, say something.” He clutched my arms, supporting me.

  “I’m okay,” I said in a numb voice. I saw the empty hand which had once held the letter and frantically searched the floor for it. Once I’d spotted it, I pulled away from Gary and scrambled to pick it up.

  “Kelly, take it easy.” As I moved, Gary reached, trying to keep holding onto me as though he were afraid I would fall. I fought his hands, focusing on the half-folded letter fluttering in the breeze of an air-conditioner vent. I kept fighting until my fingers touched the paper and latched onto it. Once I held it, my body gave out, and Gary’s strength kept me from falling to the floor.

  More tears came and I held the letter and necklace against my chest, feeling the outline of the sand dollar pressing into the valley between my breasts.

  Come when you are ready.

  “Mrs. Jamison, are you all right?” the same nurse asked, hovering over us. She touched my wrist gently, her fingers squeezing my flesh reassuringly. She’d been trained to help heal, but nothing could heal this. “Are you all right?” she repeated softly.

  “Yes,” I finally managed. Although I tried to rise, I couldn’t, not without Gary’s hands lifting me into the wheelchair. Once I would have protested, but now I couldn’t manage the words.

  “You sure you’re all right?” the nurse asked as she looked me over, checking for obvious signs of physical distress. Finally, her eyes settled on the necklace and letter I still clutched in a death grip. Her clinical gaze softened as though she finally understood that what had momentarily weakened me had little to do with the cancer.

  She patted my hand again. “You go home and get some rest, Mrs. Jamison. You’ll feel better.” She walked behind the wheelchair and pushed me toward the elevator while Gary moved the cart.

  Home? Where was that? I clenched my eyes shut and tried not to think. Tyler appeared in the black void. He raised his hand and beckoned to me. As I looked at him, I saw the small scar between his thumb and forefinger but then he vanished from the blackness, leaving me alone with this pain.

  “Mrs. Jamison, are you okay?” the nurse asked, touching my shoulder.

  “Fine.” I leaned back in the wheelchair. “Thank you,” I mumbled, closing my eyes, reducing everything to noise and movement. In the darkness, I focused on Gary’s dress shoes tapping loudly against the linoleum before we stopped moving. The elevator bell rang softly, and the doors thudded open. More movement.

  “Kelly?” Gary asked, touching my shoulder.

  I wish everyone would leave me alone, I thought. I opened my eyes and peered at the worry lines etched into his face.

  “Yeah,” I answered, despite the trembling I couldn’t stop.

  Together, the two of them stopped in front of the black sedan Gary had rented. Bright afternoon sunlight spilled around us, glaring off the chrome. After opening the back door, Gary slid the oxygen tank in before helping me from the wheelchair into the car. Once he had settled me into place, he double-checked my seatbelt as though I were a child.

  Instead of worrying about this, I focused on the letter and the necklace, brushing my fingers against the soft strand of leather looped through the sand dollar. Then he shut the door and turned back to the nurse. Gary offered his hand and said something softly so I couldn’t hear before walking around the car and sliding behind the wheel.

  The plastic smell of the car seemed overpowering in its newness. I clutched at the armrests and tried to forget what Tyler’s Jeep Cherokee had smelled like. My body rebelled against the comforting arch of the seats, remembering a harder, more uncomfortable line of the Cherokee’s seat.

  As Gary started the engine and drove away from the hospital, he said, “I booked passage on the six o’clock flight to Boulder, which means we have about four hours to get you packed. That shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

  “No.” I twisted the leather around my finger and watched the skin turn ashen from the constriction. With my other hand, I touched the pale tip and realized the skin was numb.

  “Kelly? Are your things at the hotel?” Gary reached out and pulled the leather loose. He touched my finger, gingerly rubbing to recirculate the blood beneath the skin.

  “No.”

  “Then where?” He peered at me, but I refused to meet his gaze.

  “At Tyler’s house.” I looked out the window at the trees whose leaves had begun turning amber. I remembered the way autumn smelled, the crisp foliage sweetening into slumber. Soon, the leaves would fall like jewels piled on the ground. It was my favorite season, and I hadn’t been able to share it with Tyler.

  “Kelly?” Gary’s voice sounded slightly frustrated. “Tell me which way to go.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly and drummed his thumbs against it.

  When you are ready. I pulled the necklace over my head, and the sand dollar rested between my breasts. I told him the address and gave him directions to Tyler’s beach house. Then I reached into my purse and found my keys. As I took the ring in hand, I sorted through them, dispatching all but one as useless.

  Gary navigated through the traffic quietly. Silence flourished between us without even the music of the radio to break the stillness. The only sign of his tension was the harsh grip he maintained on the steering wheel. His gaze never shifted from the road ahead unless he turned to the left or right and had to make sure that it was clear enough to pull into traffic.

  As we pulled up to the house, Gary turned into the driveway and shut off the engine. He stepped out of the car, came around to the passenger side, and opened my door. Despite the fact that I wanted to get out without his help, I knew I couldn’t. He pulled the oxygen tank and cart out, and together we walked up the paved path until we’d reached the stairs. Standing there, I still clutched his letter. My fingers pressed hard against the paper, as though I could grab Tyler from it and bring him back to me.

  Gary glanced up the stairs. “Kelly, do you feel up to that walk?”

  I, too, stared upward, knowing I’d be so damned tired after all those steps. “Yeah,” I finally said in a breathy voice. “I’ll make it okay.”

  Nodding, he picked up the cart and started to carry it, matching his pace to my much slower one. One hand remained on the rail behind me, probably in case I started to fall backwards. Gary had never believed in risks of any proportion.

  It seemed to take forever to reach the top and once we’d arrived, I gripped the railing and closed my eyes, resting briefly. When I opened them, I saw Tyler’s sneakers sitting on the back porch just the way he’d always left them. The laces were untied and dark with sand matted against them. I drew in a thick, shuddering breath.

  “Kel?” Gary said, hearing my breathing suddenly change. “Are you all right?

  I nodded and averted my gaze from his shoes. I walked toward the door and fitted my key into the lock. It turned easily, and I slid it open. For a few seconds, I stood there, actually trying to believe Tyler was gone. Then I forced myself to step across the threshold and into the room.

  Lazy sunlight spilled in from the half-open windows, and the salted air danced with the curtain in small billows. The mail lay in a neat pile on the table beside a half-empty coffee mug. I touched the side it and felt the cold ceramic. The newspaper lay next to the mail, spread wide as though someone had just been reading it and quit to take a shower or change. I kept thinking he would be back, his ocean blue eyes washing over and through me, his mouth turned into a soft, welcoming smile—hands still reaching for me. God, what he been thinking?

  Gary walked around the room, looking at the shelves, touching the shells scattered throughout. “He wasn’t just a friend, was he?” He spok
e softly. His gaze wandered to the painting that hung over the sofa, my piece of Tyler sitting on the catamaran. Wind filled the rainbow sail, and waves carried it out into the endless blue.

  “No,” I finally said, setting my keys on the table. “We weren’t just friends.”

  Gary slowly sat on the couch. He adjusted his jacket so that it wouldn’t wrinkle from being sat upon. As he leaned forward I saw navy suspenders against his crisp white shirt. “When I saw him leaving your room that night, I realized as much, so I went and talked with him.”

  My head shot up. “You what?”

  Gary nodded. “I spoke with him.” He smoothed the creases from his pants. “I told him it had meant a lot to me to know that someone had been with you during these last few months.”

  My shoulders rolled forward, and I sat in the chair by the door, still clutching the letter. “Why? Why would you have spoken to him?”

  Gary stared at the patch of carpet in front of my feet. “He saw me coming, Kelly. He knew who I was. Our eyes met, and in them I saw how I’d betrayed you with Debra. I saw how your illness was eating him alive. I saw that all the pain you must have owned lived in his heart, too.” He looked up and met my gaze. “He must have loved you in a way I never could have and still can’t. I’d been such a coward with you, and I wanted him to know I knew he loved you and I was grateful for that. He was doing what I, as your husband, should have done all along.”

  “You stopped being my husband the day you cheated on me, Gary. I don’t care what the law says.” I rubbed my hands over my arms, trying to get warm. The brute honesty of our conversation left a coolness inside nothing could warm.

  “But was I ever really your husband in the first place? Can you tell me you ever loved me like him, or that I ever loved you like Debra? Were we ever even fair to one another about what lay between us?” He took a deep breath. “Kelly, you were more like a best friend to me than a wife. In his eyes, I saw all the things I should have been feeling about you but didn’t. He was your husband more than I had ever been.” He rose and started pacing.