by Rye Hart
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “But I lost those.”
“Again?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
I pulled into the nearest parking lot and stopped the car. I didn’t want to be driving when we had this conversation. I could already feel anger boiling inside my chest.
“Don’t look at me that way,” Caleb said. “I just lost them, okay? There’s nothing to freak out about.”
“Are you kidding?” I scoffed. “You expect me to believe that you lost those pills again? This is bullshit, Caleb.”
“You can believe whatever the hell you want to believe,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to defend myself to you.”
“Yes, you will!” I shrieked. “Unless you want me to call Dr. McGee right now and tell him you’re abusing your prescription.”
“Calm the fuck down,” Caleb said, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m not abusing the damn pills!”
“Then, where the hell are they?” I screamed. “Don’t lie to me, Caleb. Don’t you dare lie to me. I’ve seen too many cases like this to be fooled. People don’t just lose their meds!”
“Right,” he said, laughing without humor. “Because everyone is perfect, just like you. No one makes mistakes. No one ever fucks up unless they’re high or stupid, right?”
“Don’t make this about me!” I said. “You’re the one who—”
“Who what?” he demanded. “Who fell three stories and shattered his leg? Yeah, I am! That was me. Not you. So you don’t get to decide when and how I need painkillers. Back the hell off and mind your own damn business!”
“It is my business!” I screamed. “I’m your physical therapist, Caleb! This is my job.”
“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Your job is to scream at me in your car? Your job is to take me out to lunch because I can’t drive myself? Your job is to fuck me in my bed almost every night this week and then leave like it meant nothing?”
His words hit me like a slap in the face. I felt my blood boil and my face flush. I’d never felt this angry in my life. Not only was he lying to me about the painkillers, but he was practically calling me a slut. I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore.
I cranked the engine and sped out of the parking lot without another word.
“Where the hell are we going now?” he asked.
“I’m taking you home,” I said without emotion. “And then I’m going to call Dr. McGee and make sure he doesn’t give you another prescription.”
“You’re fucking insane,” Caleb said through gritted teeth.
“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m also a trained medical professional. Contrary to what you might think, this is my job, Caleb. As for everything else, well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Caleb sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. He’d never been one for confrontation. Fights always escalated quickly when he was around, so he tried to avoid them. With me, that wasn’t a problem. I wasn’t afraid to fight with him, to yell at him, to tell him what I thought.
Caleb insisted he wasn’t using, but I didn’t believe him. It was the only answer that made sense. Adults didn’t just lose their painkillers twice in a row. That didn’t happen. He must be making an excuse to cover the fact that he’d been abusing his drugs. I couldn’t believe I’d been stupid enough to miss it all this time.
We pulled up outside his apartment, and I slammed on the brakes. Caleb looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to speak. I didn’t. I just stared back at him until his anger propelled him out of the car.
He threw open the door and marched away from me, not bothering to look back. I sat in my car for a few minutes, seething, before I put the car in drive and drove straight to the hospital. I didn’t know why Caleb was using or why he would lie about it, but I wasn’t about to let it happen. Not for another second.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - CALEB
Tara and I didn’t speak until my PT session later that week. I thought about calling her a thousand times, but I refused to give in to that desire. She accused me of abusing my drugs. Again. I couldn’t just forgive that, not after everything we’d been through together. I felt certain that Tara, unlike everyone else, knew me well enough to know I would never do something like that. It wasn’t me. And yet, she flew off the handle. She even talked to Dr. McGee, which lead to an extremely awkward phone call later that day.
Dr. McGee insisted I go in to see a psychiatrist. He too was worried about my drug use. I swore at him and told him Tara was wrong. He didn’t believe me, so I told him to cancel the prescription. I wasn’t about to see some shrink on top of everything else. I wasn’t abusing my pills. I really did lose them. But that didn’t matter. The only thing I could do to prove myself was go off the painkillers completely. So I did. By the time my PT session rolled around, I’d been living off Tylenol for three days.
I walked through the doors of the PT building and immediately saw Tara waiting for me on the far side of the room. She was standing behind the weight bench with her clipboard in her hand. My stomach dropped when I saw her. She looked gorgeous. I was still angry with her, but God, I missed her so damn much. Her long, blonde hair fell loosely over her shoulders in soft waves, and when she lifted her eyes to meet my gaze, I forgot how to breathe. It had been three days since I was pierced with those pale blue eyes. I could barely control myself as I moved closer to her.
“Hey,” she said weakly. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”
“I can’t miss PT sessions, remember?” My voice was tight.
“Yeah.” She nodded and cleared her throat. “Well, let’s get you started with some stretches, then we’ll move to the bench.”
“Okay.”
I got down on the mat table and stretched out my leg. Tara sat beside me and watched, making verbal adjustments. She never touched me. I saw her fingers twitch a few times, but she always stopped herself before she came too close.
“That’s great,” she said. “Do you want to try the fives today?”
“Tens,” I said with confidence. Tara looked at me nervously. “I’m ready.”
She nodded and loaded up the bench. I tucked my foot beneath the padded area and lifted. My leg tensed at first but after a few reps, it loosened up. I could feel myself strengthening as I breezed through the session. My leg ached when I was finished, but it was a good ache, the kind that told me I’d just kicked serious ass.
“That was great,” Tara said softly. “How’s your pain?”
Her eyes met mine, and I knew she was thinking about my pills. I felt my stomach tighten with anger as I stared at her. I hoped she would have realized her mistake by now, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m only taking Tylenol,” I said sharply. “I had Dr. McGee cancel the prescription.”
“Oh,” she said. “Why?”
“Because I wasn’t lying, Tara. I haven’t been abusing the damn pills and if going off them completely is what it takes for you to believe me, then that’s what I’ll do.”
She stared at me with wide eyes. I could see the emotions swimming behind them, but she didn’t say a word.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I demanded. “It’s been weeks, and you’re still distant. You’re picking fights about stupid shit. I’m not an idiot. I know there’s something you aren’t telling me.”
Tara stayed silent. Her eyes left my face, but she didn’t say a word. Tears pooled in her eyes, and I watched as the first one slid down her cheek. The sight softened me, but not enough to change my mind. Enough was enough. I wanted answers, and if I didn’t get them, then I was done.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I said softly. “I’ve been trying to be patient with you, but if you won’t let me in, then what’s the point? Why even try to be together if you won’t talk to me?”
More tears fell down Tara’s face as I spoke. I stared at her, silently begging her to talk to me. She didn’t. She just kept staring at me, silently crying until I
turned to walk away.
I didn’t want to. Everything inside of me was screaming to turn back around, but I couldn’t. If Tara couldn’t talk to me, then I couldn’t be with her. It was that simple. And that painful.
“I’m sick,” she said from behind me. Her voice was so soft that I barely heard it. I turned back around slowly. She was still staring at me, crying in earnest now.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“I’m sick.” She took a step toward me. “I have cancer, and I just found out a little while ago. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”
“Cancer,” I repeated flatly. “Cancer. What kind of cancer?”
“It’s a rare form of brain cancer,” she said quickly. “They caught it because I’ve been getting these terrible headaches for a couple months now. They come on suddenly and knock me on my ass. I wanted to ignore them, but after a while, I knew I couldn’t. I went in to see a neurosurgeon, and he diagnosed me. I’ve been working with a team of oncologists, but they aren’t sure how to begin my treatment. This cancer, it’s rare and aggressive.”
The words flew out of her mouth as if she couldn’t wait to be rid of them. I was in shock. I stared at her, taking in her words, but not able to say anything in response. I knew she’d been keeping something from me but this? This was crazy. This couldn’t possibly be true.
“How can you have cancer?” I stammered. “I mean, you’re young and healthy. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand how.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice weak. “I should have told you when I found out. You and my dad.”
“Darren doesn’t know?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No one does.”
“Tara, how the hell could you keep this a secret?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”
She looked so fragile. Her eyes were red with tears, and her cheeks were flushed. Her shoulders were slumped forward, and she was shaking. I didn’t think. I just moved forward, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her against my chest.
She sobbed into me, shaking and weeping uncontrollably. I knew this had been killing her. No one should have to face something like this alone, and yet, Tara had. She’d closed herself off from me, her father, and everyone else she loved. It wasn’t fair to any of us but most of all, it wasn’t fair to her.
“I’m right here,” I said. I kissed her hair. “I’m right here, okay? You aren’t going through this alone. I won’t let you.”
She nodded against my chest but just kept crying. I tightened my hold on her, and we stood there, in the middle of the PT building, locked in an endless embrace. I never wanted to let her go. Now that I knew the truth, I didn’t want to spend a single second away from her.
“I need you to promise me something,” she said, gently pulling away from me. She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Don’t tell my dad or Cathy. Not yet.”
“Tara,” I began, but she shook her head.
“I’ll tell them,” she said. “I swear. Just, not yet. I’m not ready for them to know, okay? Once the doctors have a solid plan for my treatment, then I’ll tell them.”
I couldn’t deny her anything. Not now. I nodded, and she smiled gratefully, falling into my arms again. I felt my eyes burn with tears, but I pushed them away. Now wasn’t the time to break down. Tara needed me.
***
I wanted Tara to spend the night, but she insisted on going home. She was exhausted and just needed time to herself. So I walked into my apartment alone and fell on the couch. My head was spinning. I didn’t know what to do but I didn’t get long to think about it. There was a knock on the front door that drew me back to reality.
I hurried over, thinking it was Tara, but found my mother standing outside.
“Brought you some groceries,” she said, holding up two bags.
“Thanks,” I said. I forced a smile on my face and watched as she unloaded the bags in my kitchen.
While she put away the food, she cleaned off the counters. I wanted to tell her about Tara’s illness. The secret was burning a hole in my gut, but I kept my mouth shut. I promised Tara I wouldn’t say anything and I couldn’t break that promise.
Instead, I sighed and leaned against my kitchen counter, trying to think of something that might distract me. My mom threw away an old loaf of bread and shoved some old mail into my trashcan. While I watched her, a realization hit me.
“Hey,” I said. “You didn’t see my pain pills last time you were here, did you?”
“Pain pills?” she asked, frowning. “No, I didn’t see any prescription bottles.”
“They weren’t in the bottle,” I said. “I put them in my old matchbox container, so I wouldn’t lose them again.”
“Oh! Crap,” Mom said. “Yeah, I thought that was just junk. I tossed it a few days ago. I’m so sorry.”
I just shook my head and smiled. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. I was glad to know where the pills went but with Tara’s illness in mind, nothing else could upset me. I didn’t care about the painkillers anymore. My leg would survive. But, Tara—I wasn’t sure she would.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - TARA
Telling Caleb was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I didn’t want to but when I watched him walk away from me, I knew I couldn’t lose him. Having cancer was bad enough. Losing Caleb would have been more than I could take.
I still wasn’t sure I believed him about the painkillers. It just didn’t add up. How could someone lose two full bottles of pills in less than two weeks? That sort of thing didn’t just happen, unless the person was using. It wasn’t a stretch. Caleb had been down this road before. As a teenager, he experimented with different drugs. That, along with our relationship, was why Dad and Cathy sent him away.
My stomach was tied in knots all night after I saw Caleb. He wanted me to stay the night but I wasn’t ready. Telling him about my illness was a huge step. My instincts were still screaming at me that Caleb was lying about his medicine. Too much was going through my head for me to stay the night with him.
Instead, I went home and tried to sleep. It wasn’t easy. My night was filled with fitful dreams and uncertainties. I woke up every hour, sweaty and crying. I was terrified that if I didn’t sleep, another headache would arise, but the next morning came without any pain. I stayed in bed for a couple hours, just staring out the window and trying to make sense of my life.
Being sick wasn’t something I ever thought about. I was young, not even twenty-eight yet. It wasn’t right that I would develop some rare form of cancer. Yet, here I was.
Not for the first time, I wished I had patients to take my mind off things. It was my day off, and I knew I didn’t want to spend it in bed. Instead, I got dressed and drove into town. I walked around, sipping an iced coffee and staring into shop windows. The weather was nice, and the stores were full, but nothing was powerful enough to take my mind off things.
I spent the rest of the day hiding out at home, watching movies and avoiding my phone. By the time night fell, I was going crazy. I needed to get out of my apartment and not to walk aimlessly through town.
I jumped in my car and drove to the first place that came to mind: Stephanie’s bar. She was working tonight, but it was the middle of the week, so I knew the place wouldn’t be busy. She would have plenty of time to talk, which was exactly what I needed.
“Hey!” Stephanie said when I walked up to the bar. “What are you doing here?”
“Drinking,” I said and tilted my head. “You pouring?”
“You know it.” She grinned and poured me a shot of whiskey.
She slid it over to me, and I drank it down in one gulp. Her mouth twitched when I silently asked for another. She filled my glass without a word, watching me closely as I sipped it slowly.
“Fuck this week,” I said softly.
“What’s up?” Stephanie asked with a frown.
I sighed and shook my head. I still wasn’t ready to tell her about my d
iagnosis. My father didn’t know yet, and Stephanie was emotional. She would freak out, and I couldn’t deal with that right now.
Instead, I decided to tell her about Caleb.
“I love him,” I said. “I can’t deny that anymore. I love him so damn much, but he keeps losing his pain pills.”
“Losing them?” Stephanie asked, her eyebrows raised.
“So he says.” I rolled my eyes.
“You don’t believe him?”
“Would you?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Stephanie sighed and leaned against the bar. “I don’t know him like you do.”
“That’s the thing,” I said. “I don’t want to believe he would use, but he does have a past. He did drugs when we were teenagers, remember? That was a huge part of why he went to military school. I thought he put all that shit behind him but maybe not.”
“What did he say about it exactly?” Stephanie asked.
“That he wasn’t abusing his prescription,” I said. “He said he lost the bottles. I pushed him, and he flipped out. He got pissed and tore into me. We didn’t talk for a few days after that, and when I saw him again, he claimed he hadn’t taken anything but Tylenol in three days.”
“It is possible that he lost them,” Stephanie said with a shrug. “It happens.”
“Not often,” I said. I finished my glass of whiskey and shook my head. More than anything, I wanted to believe Caleb. Doubting him only made me feel worse and yet, I couldn’t help it.
“You need to talk to him again,” Stephanie said. “Calmly this time. Don’t accuse him. Don’t fight. Just let him explain what happened.”
“Do you think that will do any good?” I asked, slightly surprised that she was being supportive.
“Well, you’re about to find out,” Stephanie said, looking behind me.
I frowned and spun around on the barstool. Caleb was walking toward me with a determined expression. My stomach flipped at the sight of him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Looking for you,” he said. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”
