I waited, listening to the humming of a fan in her room mixed with her breathing. A few minutes later, my eyes fought for sleep, so I hung up the phone and thought of Quin. We always had our problems, but money and fame changed him within the blink of an eye. I love the arts, don't get me wrong, but so few people have their heads on straight enough to maintain a truly down-to-earth attitude in any Hollywood-soaked industry. My brother wasn't one of them and I saw it chew him from the outside in. He always wanted more and better and obviously married someone with the same values—or lack there of. It's not that I hated movies and thought acting was wrong, I just hated what it became for some people and I didn't see Nora as someone strong enough to keep her head above water.
But I did love her, okay? I don’t care what anyone says, I loved her.
A few weeks trickled by in my simple little life. I cleaned up the yard, picked some fresh grown cucumbers and heirloom tomatoes, swam laps in the pond, and got my business in full swing again.
I thought of Nora constantly. When I went to the grocery store I swore I heard her laugh. In Friday’s rush hour traffic I flicked on the local college radio station and heard Jack White, obviously thought of her singing along on the phone. Couples smiling at each other while stopped at red lights reminded me of our long talk in my car before everything started to fall apart. Everything reminded me of her. Constantly. But what really got me was the couple at Starbucks. Both had rings on their left hand ring fingers. She was obviously pregnant and pissed off. They weren't smiling at each other, that's for sure. I pretended not to listen, but they were right behind me and even their whispers were clear to me.
"I do so much for you," the man said. "Go to work so you can spend it all on clothes and shoes, the dishes, taking care of Carter when I get home. How can you say I don't fight for you?"
"You don't get it," she said. "What happened to the romantic man I married?"
"Life isn't all roses, darling." Ouch. Wrong words buddy.
"I don't want roses, Adam. I want you to desire me again. Is that so much to ask? Two kids later and video games are more fascinating than your wife."
"Why can't you play them with me instead of complaining all the time?"
"Why can't you treat me like your wife instead of treating me like one of your little friends?"
"First time we've had a babysitter in months and this is how you want to spend it?"
"I just want you to fight a little, I guess." She sighed deeply. "Whatever, Adam. I'll take your scraps."
"This Hollywood idea of romance has you all messed up, Jane." He scooted his chair back so hard it screeched. "I provide for you. Isn't that appreciated? Isn't it romantic when I go out of my way to bring a dozen roses home from work?"
"I told you I don't want roses." She stood, bumping my chair with hers. "I want my husband to choose me. Simple, Adam. Not extravagant. I want to feel loved again."
"What about how I want to feel?"
She walked toward the doors and outside. He tossed their trash in the cans and followed. I watched as they walked to the car in silence. I knew that silence. Yet not long ago I knew another kind of silence. A natural, comfortable silence where she breathed into the phone and I listened.
We became a bickering married couple. Unhappy and focused on our own wants and needs, without sacrificing for the other. What kind of love was that?
I didn't want to be that.
I threw my cup away and got into my car. I looked at the clock. Still had fifteen minutes until I was supposed to meet with Chris.
Surprisingly, he hadn't proposed to his woman yet, but when he finally asked me to help him look for a ring I wasn't the least bit shocked.
We met at a local jewelry store and I pretended to like stuff he picked out, but none of it caught my eye. Too gaudy and common. Too heavy for Nora’s small hands.
"Don't tell me you're thinking about her again," Chris said as a clerk handed him a ring.
"I did for a second."
"Dude, you're just as bad as she is."
I tapped the glass. "I know."
"You need to give Melody a chance. She's a good woman. Mature, nice, hot.” He handed the ring to the girl behind the desk and pointed to another one. "Could I see that one, please?"
She pulled it out of the display and handed it to him. He slipped it on his pinky, cocked his head, then gave it back to the girl. "Could you try this on for me?" he said to her. "I need to see it on a woman's hand."
She did as he said, then looked at me. "Are you Sawyer Reed?"
I nodded, wishing she hadn't asked.
"You were talking about Nora Maddison?" She seemed unaffected by the fame factor. "I'm sorry if I'm saying too much, but I'm with Chris. She's not wife material."
"Yeah." I appreciated her honesty. "Just hard to tell your heart to stop beating."
"That's the one," Chris said. "I'll take it."
"You sure?" the girl said.
"Absolutely. She'll love it. She's a size 6." He twirled the ring in his fingers again. "What's the next step?"
"Let me get the papers and see if we have a size 6 around.” She disappeared into the back.
Chris turned to me. "I'm asking her on Saturday. Nothing big. Just waiting for the right time.”
"I'm happy for you, man."
His eyes brightened while he looked at the ring. "You know you're my best man, right?"
I nodded. "And you're mine."
"If you ever get married."
"Thanks, Chris."
He shrugged. "Melody will be the maid-of-honor, I bet."
"Give the Melody thing a break already."
"Only letting y—“
"I'm going to be with Nora.” I stood and shoved my hands into my pockets. "I don't care what she does for a living anymore."
"You sure about this? I mean—”
"I've been thinking about it the last few days. I'm sure."
"You're going to propose?"
"No. Just going to tell her how I feel."
"But she's with that other guy.”
"She doesn't love him."
"Then why'd she date him?”
"Fear."
"Of what?"
"Saying no."
The rest of the day ticked by so slow I wondered if my clocks were broken. I tried not to think about what I'd say when I called her. Wanted it to be real, not rehearsed, but either way I felt about as nervous as a guy proposing. In a sense, I was.
And I also feared the life I tried my best to avoid, but as the great Wayne Gretzky said, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." I walked outside to the pond and imagined the ice. I didn't play hockey like I played life. Hockey was easy because I didn't fear physical pain or losing games. Life, on the other hand, hurts worse when it hurts. And you fail harder when you fail. I thought of Jack White's song Would You Fight for My Love? and let the lyrics skate through my mind.
I checked the time on my phone and decided I didn't want to wait until midnight. I wanted to hear her voice now. I needed her and yes, I wanted to fight for her love. "Mom," I said as the phone rang. "This is the one thing I won't fail. I'm gonna do anything for her. I promise."
"Sawyer?" So good to hear her voice again.
"Don't sound so surprised." I smiled, my stomach jam-packed with excitement.
"No ... it's just that ... I mean...."
"I know. I didn't want to wait until midnight though."
"Okay...."
"I need to talk to you."
"I did it because you said I wouldn't. You have no right to be upset. This is the life we've both chosen."
"What are you talking about?" My smile vanished. "You did what?"
"Don't pretend you don't know." She sounded tired. "I don’t—“
"Please tell me you did not marry that guy." I paced along the pond, in a much different way than I did the first time we talked.
"You don't know?"
"Dammit, Nora." I kicked dirt into the pond. “Are you crazy?”
>
"What? What was I supposed to do?"
I inhaled, wondering if it were possible to breathe enough oxygen to calm myself down. I pumped my fist and squeezed the phone.
"I gotta go, Sawyer," she whispered. "He doesn't want me to talk to you anymore."
"I can't...." I yanked on my hair to ease the tension in my chest.
"It's too late." She sniffed. "Please try to forget me."
"Never." I raised my voice. "Do you hear me? I'll never forget you."
"Goodbye, Sawyer."
"I love you,” I said. “I’m in love with you, Nora, and I don't mean as friends."
But she was already gone. I sunk to the ground and held my chest. Gretzky wagged his tail and huddled up to me. I looked up as a ton of balloons floated toward the clouds. A cemetery sat adjacent to my land and over the last few years I noticed a trend with people releasing balloons for funerals. Always reminded me of Mom. Those nights as kids when we camped outside at night after Dad died. Mom helped us write letters to him and we sent them into the sky inside balloons. She said he'd get them and I never believed it, but there was something liberating about it. Like releasing the cap of a shaken soda can and getting out whatever is begging to come out.
The balloons calmed me down a little as they disappeared into crumbs and I decided to write Mom a letter. Didn't have a balloon, but the letter would be fine.
I went back inside and sat down at my kitchen table with a pen and spiral notebook. Gretzky warmed my feet as I dated the letter and stared at the paper. "Mom," I said. "I'm not giving up this time."
I addressed the letter to someone else instead.
My Nora,
I'm not the best with love letters, poems or songs. Don't mind my grammer and spelling, but for me this is about so much more than eloquint words and perfectly placed periods and commas. You've already shown me that you can look beneath flaws and imperfections to see the goodness in me so hopefully you can in my meezly attempt at a love letter.
I guess you’re married now…and I won't be sending this anytime soon but I will be saving it because I believe one day you will be mine. Everything goes wrong for me and it seems like it always has, everything gets messed up and here I am feeling alone at the bottom. For a little it felt nice to have someone sit at the bottom of the tree with me…. I worry that everything is going well for you and maybe you believe you're at the top but I know your right here with me at the bottom. I don’t think we’ll ever get to the top without each other. I need you….
I know your the one thing in my life that has been right. I'm not saying perfect because I know we have our issues, you and me both, but it's right even when it's wrong. I can’t explain it….
I'm starting to see that there are some things in life I can control and others I can't. Those things I can't control like death and random bad circumstanses, I just need to learn to handle better instead of avoiding but I see now that what we had is lost not because of you. Just me. It's all me and I'm sorry. I know I say sorry a lot but I mean it.
One day even if it's when we are 90 I hope we will talk again. Like we used to. Till then I'll wait for you. I didn't die for you when I had the chance, so I'm doing it now.
Till we meet again,
That hockey player
CH. 28 - Nora
London and I set the boxes down in the living room. She panted and leaned on her knees. "As much money as the two of you have combined, can you please explain why you didn't hire someone to move this stuff for you?" she said as she stood back up. "I mean, Dan is like Brad Pitt level celebrity and you're climbing up quick."
"I don't want to be like that." I noticed a vase of daisies on the dining room table and read the note. “I don’t need servants, no matter how much money I have.”
“And what exactly do you consider your personal hair stylist?” She walked over to me and held the note up. "My darling Nora, thinking of you every second of the day.” She set it back into the flowers. “How cute. When’s he gonna propose? Or is moving in with him enough?”
I tried to smile.
London slapped her hips. "Okay. What's next?"
"You don't have to be so cheery, you know. It's obvious that you're pretending."
"Me?" She pressed her hand against her chest. "Hey, I'm not hiding the fact that I think you missed out on a good guy, but maybe this is better for you. Not to mention ... now that Sawyer is single...."
"Don't even think about it."
She laughed. "I wouldn't do that, but a guy like that won't be single forever."
"I just want him to be happy."
"Are you?"
"I have nothing to complain about."
She nodded and walked back to the living room, pivoted in a circle, and moved closer to the fireplace mantle.
"I'll be redecorating a bit," I said. "He's letting me do whatever I want."
She picked up a photo on the mantle and held it close. “Who’s this?”
“His ex-girlfriend. They are still really good friends, like brother and sister.”
“She lived here too?” She put the picture down and looked at the next one. “Did they have sex?”
I shrugged.
“I’m going to assume so, and if that’s the case … you’re okay with her pictures hanging around?”
I ignored her and walked outside to get the last box from the porch. I brought it inside and set it down with the rest. “Let’s get this stuff unpacked.”
“You’re ignoring my question.”
I nodded. “Dan loves me. He’s romantic and charming. I trust him.”
She crossed her arms and stood in front of me, trying to examine the feelings behind my eyes, but she wouldn’t see them. I put on a mask the day Dan asked me to elope and now I needed to play the part. All throughout my life people told me I lived too much from my heart, not my mind. Well, here I was, trying to be mature, trying to do what I thought was best, instead of what I felt was best. Trying to let go of the Hollywood romance for the realistic one. Dan was good for me. He was a good partner in a business I was still learning so much about.
As London and I unpacked, my body wanted to give up. I fought with my lungs, trying to give them oxygen, but it didn’t seem like enough. I leaned into the wall and inhaled as much as possible.
London put her hand on my back and moved my hair from my face. “You need to take a break?”
I shook my head and inhaled again. “I feel really tired.”
“You don’t look so good.” She placed the back of her hand against my forehead. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve felt tired lately, irritable, but I don’t think I’m sick.” I tried to walk away from the wall, but everything started to spin and the sudden urge to throw up tightened my stomach. “Maybe I am.”
“When’s the last time you went to the doctor, Nora? I’m worried about you.”
“It’s nothing, Mom.” I fell into the couch. “Maybe I need a nap.”
She pressed her index fingers into her lips, like a steeple. “Take a nap. I’ll put some of your clothes away while you rest. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” My eyes were already heavy. “Wake me up in an hour.”
I felt a million times worse when I woke up and London insisted that I go to the ER. I called Dan and left a message on his phone. He probably wouldn’t get it for a few hours since he was across the globe. Took a while to get back to a room and when they finally ran the tests I started to feel a little better. “See,” I said to London. “I was probably just tired from lack of sleep.”
“Hope so,” she said as someone walked in.
We both turned as the nurse or doctor, couldn’t tell, looked over a few papers and said, “Looks like your kidney’s are having some trouble, Ms. Maddison. We need to get you into the hospital for further evaluation.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “Are they failing?”
“Your doctor is going to have to make the ultimate call, but I’d say you are either going
to need dialysis or a transplant. I’m sure they prepared you for this when you were released from the hospital.”
I nodded. “I’d like to go back to the hospital I was at.”
About two hours later I was hooked up to machines again and staring at the ceiling. London called my parents, although I asked her not to. “It’s not a big deal,” I kept saying, hoping it were true, but a few hours later Dr. Rutherford confirmed that I’d definitely need a kidney transplant as soon as possible.
“You have significantly reduced urine output again,” he explained. “Your blood pressure is also quite elevated. You’ve got a low glomerular filtration rate and a slight case of proteinuria, which is what we are concerned about as it’s most likely heading toward End Stage Renal Disease. Seems progressive right now and although dialysis may hold you over for a bit, I think we’re going to need a transplant sooner than later to err on the safe side.”
“So, what do I do now?”
“We’re running a dialysis here in a few minutes and we’ll keep you monitored. I think you should stay here for a few days, but after that you are free to leave and come back for dialysis treatments until we find you a donor.”
“How long will that take?”
“It depends. You are considered a priority right now, but you’ve got type O blood and it’s most difficult to find a donor for this. Do you know what type of blood your boyfriend has? Perhaps he would be willing to donate. It’s always best to find someone you know. Quicker that way.” He pat my knee and smiled. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get you taken care of.”
I nodded as he exited and spoke with a nurse in the hall.
“I’ll be right back,” London said. “Gotta go to the bathroom.”
I listened to my heart rate and watched the green lines on the monitor. Back again, I thought, trying not to complain. Dan was probably enjoying some European beach with his costars. I wondered when he’d call me back and if he would be able to come and see me before I had surgery. Probably not. I wouldn’t even ask him about the blood type thing. It would only make him feel bad that he couldn’t do it.
Marilyn Grey - [Unspoken 06] Page 15
