No Regrets

by Joy Argento

  To my surprise, Jodi told me to get back to my life several days after her surgery. I had been leaving my salon for Cindy to run. Maybe it was time to get back to work. Jodi insisted she was doing well enough to manage on her own. I had no choice but to believe her.

  “You’re absolutely sure you can cope?” I asked her. I really didn’t want to leave. Even though there had been nothing physical between us, other than me giving her an occasional kiss on the cheek or forehead, I liked playing house with her. Making her meals, adjusting her pillows, and helping her into bed at night. The first night, I helped her out of her clothes and into her pajamas. I averted my eyes as I did it. Afraid that if I really looked at her naked body I wouldn’t be able to look away, or worse yet, I would be tempted to touch her. I felt I had done good keeping the distance between us that she seemed to be insisting on. I wasn’t giving up. But I knew I needed to give her some time to heal before I put forth a full out effort to win her back.

  My bag was packed and I was ready to go. I gave Jodi a hug, careful not to squeeze too hard and hurt her.

  “Beth, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” she told me for the hundredth time.

  “I’ll call you later to check on you. Let me know, day or night, if you need anything.”

  She nodded.

  “I mean it. You call me for anything.”

  “I will.” She held up her hand holding her first two fingers away from her other two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “That’s the sign for live long and prosper from Spock.”

  She shrugged. “That works too.”

  I laughed. I wanted to hug her again but held off.

  She held the door open for me and I could tell she was watching me as I went down the hall. I turned and gave a small wave before turning the corner.

  I stopped at the salon before heading home. I hadn’t been to work since Jodi’s surgery but felt comfortable leaving it in Cindy’s hands.

  “Hey, boss,” she said when I walked through the door. Several clients sat in the waiting area, and all three of my employees had a client in their chairs.

  “Busy here. I like it.” I glanced at the scheduling book and decided to stay and help out. It looked like we had a steady stream of clients coming in.

  Even though it had only been a few days, it felt good to have scissors in my hand chatting away with the person in my chair.

  “How’s Jodi feeling?” Cindy asked me when things quieted down. I filled her in. “She’s a tough lady. I think she’ll be fine.”

  I didn’t even want to think about the alternative. There was no way I could lose Jodi. The times we spent apart, she was never far from my mind. I regretted those times and letting our time together—even as friends—slip away. I vowed never to let that happen again. Jodi was important to me, and I wanted to spend the rest of my life showing her that. I just hoped I had plenty of time to do that.

  Maddie was out when I got home. She’d been looking for her own place but hadn’t found what she was looking for. I was glad for the alone time. I put my bag in my room to unpack later, poured myself a glass of wine, and put my bare feet up on the edge of the coffee table. I had only been away from Jodi for several hours, but I missed her already. I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit her name in my contacts.

  “Miss me yet?” I said, trying to be silly, but also trying to gauge her feelings.

  “Did you go somewhere?”

  Damn, not the response I wanted. But it was probably a good sign that she was being her usual smart-ass self. “Nope. I’m calling you from your bathroom.”

  “Well, come on out. I’ve been waiting to pee.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay. Was a little nauseous earlier, but the doctor said that was a possibility.” I had been afraid that some of the side effects could be a problem.

  “Did you eat?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Okay, smarty. I’m just making sure. How’s the pain level?”

  “Much better today. Still tender to the touch.”

  “Then I suggest you don’t touch it.”

  “Good thinking. Did you eat?”

  I realized I hadn’t. My stomach growled as if on cue.

  “Well?”

  “Well is for horses.”

  “It’s hay is for horses. Well is for water. And don’t change the subject. You didn’t eat, did you? You are much better at taking care of other people than you are at taking care of yourself.”

  “I stopped at the salon and they were busy, so I stayed and helped.”

  “Helping other people at your sacrifice is one thing. Helping others at your detriment is a whole other thing.”

  “Good point. I’ll try to remember that.” I got up to go see if there was any food in the refrigerator.

  “Bullshit. You won’t remember. I know you.” She did. She knew me probably better than anyone else ever had. That’s one of the things I loved about her. She saw me and she paid attention.

  “I’m getting something to eat right now. Happy?” To my surprise, there was a plate in the fridge covered with tin foil and a note on top. Mom, I thought you might be hungry when you got home. Love ya! I lifted the foil to discover a pork chop, mashed potatoes, and green beans. My daughter had grown into quite the thoughtful adult. “In fact, Maddie made me a plate of food. I’m putting it in the microwave even as we speak.”

  “Yes. I’m very happy.”

  I doubted that. She had acted grateful, but she definitely hadn’t acted happy. “Good. I would do anything to make you happy. You know that, don’t you?”

  She ignored the question. “You should eat and then relax. You’ve gone above and beyond the last several days. You deserve some time to yourself.”

  I put the plate of food in the microwave, sans the tin foil, and pressed a couple of buttons. “I liked taking care of you.” Okay, time to stop letting her know in these not so subtle comments that you want her. “I plan on taking a hot bath after I eat and heading to bed.”

  No answer.

  “Jodi?”

  No answer.

  I could still here background noises so I knew we hadn’t been cut off. I didn’t hear her drop the phone, but that didn’t mean she didn’t pass out. I set the plate I had just taken out of the microwave on the counter, grabbed my car keys, and was as far as the front door ready to run over there, when Jodi came back on the line. I stopped in my tracks.

  “Sorry about that,” she said.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” She cleared her throat. “Hold on. I need to get some water.”

  I tapped my foot nervously while I waited for her to come back.

  “I just threw up.”

  “What?”

  “Throw up, vomit, puke.”

  I shook my head. Why did she have to act like an ass? “I know what it means. Were you feeling sick?”

  “No. It just came on all of a sudden.”

  “How do you feel now?”

  “I’m not sure. I still feel kind of sick to my stomach.”

  “I’m coming over,” I said.

  “No, you aren’t. This is your first night in several to be in your own bed. My couch can’t be that comfortable. I’m fine. You stay home.” To call her stubborn would have been an understatement. I considered ignoring her orders and going over there anyway. “Beth,” she said. “Are you listening to me? Put your keys down and go eat. Don’t come over here.”

  “Get out of my head.” I hung my keys up on the key rack by the door.

  “Why? I like it in there. It’s very spacious.”

  I made my way back to the kitchen and my food. “Is that an insult?”

  “I’ll never tell. Now go eat some dinner. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Reluctantly, I hung up the phone. My worrying was starting all over again.

  Jodi

  I didn’t let on to Beth, but that sudden bout of sickness really scared me. I had no warn
ing and barely made it to the bathroom before my stomach exploded out of my mouth. I headed back in there to wipe up a few splash spots. My insides were rumbling and my incision hurt.

  I knew vomiting was a possible side effect of the clinical trial, but I never expected it to come on so fast without warning. I hoped this wasn’t the start of something.

  I brushed my teeth, rinsed my mouth several times with mouthwash, and got my pajamas on. It was still fairly early in the evening, but I thought lying down and getting some extra rest might be a good idea.

  I fell asleep right away but had a restless night. My stomach felt off, sort of nauseous, sort of a dull ache. I chalked it up to the vomiting episode. It continued through the morning, and I decided to forgo coffee and have a couple of pieces of dry toast. The bland food choice didn’t make a difference, and the toast came up about thirty minutes after I ate it.

  I really hoped it was a stomach bug, but I was pretty sure it was a side effect from the medicated disc that was implanted in me. Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have let my guard down and allow myself to start to feel hopeful. I considered calling the doctor or Beth but decided against it. I would deal with this on my own for a while and see how it shook out.

  I took myself for a walk midday, keeping my head down so I didn’t have to interact with anyone. The last thing I wanted to be was pleasant. Back in my apartment, I made myself some rice, added a little cooked hamburger that Beth had prepared, and added a tiny bit of butter. I sat in front of the TV and turned on a mindless game show.

  I ate slowly, conscious of how my stomach felt and prepared to stop at the slightest sign of trouble. I finished the food, placed the bowl in the sink, and drank a half glass of water. There were no signs of any digestive issues as I grabbed the lesbian romance I had been reading and settled down on the couch with it.

  I drifted off to sleep around chapter nine. I woke with mild pains in my stomach. They were a little stronger than the pain that originally sent me to the doctor. I sat up and rubbed my abdomen as if that would help. It didn’t.

  The pain continued, coming in waves until early evening. I skipped dinner but decided on a light snack before bedtime. Beth called after she got done with work to check in. I didn’t tell her about the pain or the vomiting in the morning. I feigned fatigue and told her I needed to lie down, to keep the conversation short. I didn’t want her worrying more than she already was.

  Sam called a little while later. He was a good ex-husband. This was the third time he had checked on me since my surgery. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Not good,” I admitted. I told him what was going on.

  “Have you called the doctor?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Jodi, what the hell are you waiting for? Call him.”

  “I feel a little better now than I did earlier. I’m going to see how I feel tomorrow. I have an appointment with him in a week and a half anyway.”

  “Jodi, do not wait a week and a half. Call tomorrow, whether you feel better or not. Promise me.”

  I didn’t say anything. I had to think about it. There was no sense calling if I felt better.

  “Promise me,” he said again, but much sterner.

  “Okay. Okay. I promise. But it’s probably nothing.”

  “Let’s not take any chances here. This is your life we’re talking about.”

  A dull pain hit me dead center of my gut. I waited for it to ease up before responding. “I am well aware that this is my life.” My life. How long would this be my life? Doctors. Procedures. Scans. Operations. And would it be the end of my life?

  “Will you let me know what the doctor says?”

  I shook my head. I really appreciated him checking on me, but the last thing I needed was him up my ass or me needing to report to him. “I’ll text you.”

  That seemed to satisfy him and we said our good-byes.

  I was halfway to the bedroom to change for the night when I made a sudden beeline for the bathroom and made it just in time. Apparently, nothing was going to stay down. Sam was right, I needed to call the doctor first thing in the morning.

  I emptied the small trash can in my room into the larger one in the kitchen. I wanted something by my bed in case I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time should I have another bout in the middle of the night.

  I got myself ready for bed, climbed under the covers, and thought about whether I would tell Beth what was going on or not. Reason told me I should, but my head made a good argument against it. I didn’t want to drag her into this deeper than she was. She had her own life to live. I wasn’t sure how long I would still have mine.

  * * *

  “I want you to go right to the hospital,” Dr. Daniels told me over the phone after I explained what was going on.

  I hadn’t eaten any breakfast because my stomach protested strongly at the very thought. It probably would have just come up anyway.

  “I let them know you’re coming. And the scans they need to set up. I’ll be there around noon to go over the results with you.”

  I considered calling Beth, but only briefly. I was done pulling her into my drama. I ordered an Uber, packed a few essentials in case they kept me overnight, and went outside to wait.

  I sent Sam a quick text and I was on my way.

  I didn’t have to wait long once I was at the hospital. The scan went quick and I was ushered to a room to await my fate.

  “Well,” I said to Dr. Daniels once I was seated across from him.

  “The medicated disc has migrated. Not much, but enough to be causing irritation to the bottom of your stomach. It is reacting every time you eat because the pressure from the food is expanding your stomach enough to make it recoil and you vomit. I don’t think the medication itself it contributing to the problem.”

  Now that didn’t sound good. I shuddered at the thought of this stray medical equipment wreaking havoc on my insides. “What do we do about it?”

  “Leaving it where it is isn’t an option. You won’t last long if you lose your cookies every time you eat.”

  I smiled at his word choice, despite my anxiety.

  “Best bet is to go back in and put it back in its proper place and throw a stitch in to keep it from moving again.”

  “So, we should leave it in? We’re talking another surgery?” Damn, I was still so sore from the last one.

  “Yes. Two small incisions this time. One for the…” He continued and I wished that Beth was sitting by my side to absorb all of this. My brain had been a useless pile of mush since I was first diagnosed. “Do you have any questions?”

  I considered giving a smart-ass answer—as Beth would have called it—like, When will this nightmare end? “When should we do this?” I asked instead.

  “As soon as possible. I can have you admitted now. And I’ll book the OR for later today. I want you to spend at least one night, maybe more, in the hospital. I want to make sure you are holding down food, and we can give you fluids in the meantime. “Do you have anyone here with you?”

  I shook my head.

  “You might want to call someone. I find it’s better for you if you have a support person. Let’s go back to the waiting area. I’ll take care of the paperwork and we’ll get you admitted. Shouldn’t take too long.”

  I plopped down in the chair to wait and sent Sam an update. I was both annoyed at him for making me report to him and happy I had someone to share this with. It seemed to take forever before someone finally brought me to my room.

  My roommate was fast asleep in the other bed, mouth wide open, snoring loudly. If I had to guess I would say she was easily eighty or ninety years old. Not a good start. The person who escorted me here—I forgot what he said he was—orderly maybe—pulled the curtain closed between us as if that would make a difference. The chainsaw imitation continued.

  I signed more papers, got a lovely hospital gown on, and painful IV put in my arm. I climbed dutifully into bed to wait.

  “What the hell were you think
ing?” I jumped at the volume and the venom being spit at me. I turned my head toward the voice. Beth stood in the doorway, hands on hips, with a look on her face that would send a coyote running.

  “I…how…”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” She stomped over to the bed, her voice still several decibels higher than normal.

  I shrank back in the bed. I had no excuse she would understand. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Your ex-husband called me to see if I knew what time your surgery was. Surgery! How dare you do this to me.”

  “God damn it, shut the hell up,” came a voice from behind the curtain. Well, at least the snoring had stopped.

  Beth ignored her. “You don’t want to be my lover—my girlfriend, okay. I can deal with that for now. But not even wanting to be my friend. That fucking hurts. I can’t believe you shut me out like this.”

  I couldn’t believe Beth, who was scared someone would think she was gay, was now announcing that to everyone within earshot. And she was yelling so loud I was sure that included quite a few people.

  A large woman with piercing eyes and thin lips took a step into the room. The name tag on her nurse’s uniform said Berta. She didn’t look like anyone I would want to mess with. “Excuse me, ladies. Do we have a problem in here?” Her voice rumbled.

  Beth turned. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep it down.”

  “Uh-huh. You better or I’ll be showing you the door.” She spun around and disappeared out the door.

  Beth continued, but with a much lower tone, the anger still evident in her voice. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t call me. Are you trying to be a martyr?”

  “No.” The floodgate holding back my tears was ready to explode. I fought to keep my composure.

  Beth’s tone softened a bit. “Jodi, why?”

  “I’ve imposed enough on you. And…”

  “And what?”

  I looked into her eyes and I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell her that she would miss me more after I died if I let her get too close.

  “And I don’t know. I don’t want to be a burden.”

  She took my hand and looked me straight in the eye. “You—could—never—be a burden to me. Do you understand me?”