by K Larsen
“I have some stuff to get done,” Jess says. “Pot brownies are on the counter. I’ll leave you to it!” Jess sounds perky. Too perky. Maybe it’s the brownie. Why is she leaving? I can’t seem to really form a rational thought at the moment. Dan disappears.
“Sit,” I say.
Rusty sits, still grinning like a fool. Dan appears with two napkins. “Rusty, you ready for some fun?” Rusty nods and takes a napkin wrapped brownie from Dan. They both pop them in their mouths in one bite. I can feel my mouth hang open and my eyes widen.
“Seriously?” I say.
“I think we’re all in need of a little fun and relaxation. I can’t even remember the last time I got high,” Dan says. He stretches out in his spot.
“Me either,” Rusty adds. “Let’s enjoy it while we can.”
“You guys are awesome,” I say. Rusty starts laughing and Dan grins at me. “Give it an hour, guys, and you will be feeling as stupid as I am right now.”
Jess appears two hours later with a pizza in hand. “Look. My wife,” I say with a grin. Dan and Rusty start laughing. I join in. The sound of their laughter is infectious. We can’t seem to stop it from happening. Jess flashes a huge smile at me. The theme song for the show we have on feels like it’s been on for an eternity. Time is prolonged somehow in this state. We’ve talked about how we have all changed over the last fifteen years, about the kids being so grown and how we’ve managed to stay friends throughout a lot of ups and downs. No one talked about me dying, which was exactly what I needed. My nose smells the pizza in Jess’s hands. I realize I am starving and my sentiment is obviously shared by Rusty and Dan. They stare at the pizza box like it’s the last female on the planet. Jess sets the box on the coffee table and we tear into the pie. I look up to Jess. “Hey, pieces are missing,” I say.
Jess shrugs. “I had the munchies, so I hate some in the car.”
“I love you,” I blurt out.
Jess cocks her head to the side and smiles. “I know.”
April
“I don’t want to leave him, I don’t care about the stupid divorce. If he dies while I’m gone, I would never forgive myself.” I’m having coffee with Edie in the kitchen and am absolutely dreading having to drive all the way to Manhattan again tomorrow.
“You can’t control it and there is no such thing as a perfect death. You could be sitting vigil by his bed for two days, get up to pee once and when you come back, he’s gone. What are you going to do then, never forgive yourself for having a bladder?”
“I guess you’re right, it just seems so unfair that I have to go deal with John and our shitty divorce instead of being with him in these important moments.”
“You’ve been here the whole time, Jess, every single minute. You’ve got to start letting go a bit. Do you think he’s getting close? What have the doctors said?”
“Not much, they don’t want to commit to a timeline. They told us to call hospice and they don’t do that, unless it’s a matter of weeks we’re talking about.”
“Did they come?”
“Who, the angels of death? I mean that in the best way; they were so helpful. That’s what Luke and I called them after we had our first meeting. They’re pretty amazing, death is their business and they put all of your worries to rest and make it sound easy. Ty was up and walking around—that was three days ago. He hasn’t been able to get out of bed except to make it to the bathroom. The pain is minimal so that’s the most important part, but the painkillers mess with his cognition, he’s not one hundred percent Ty anymore.”
“If you want to move him into a place, you know we’d all support you. It’s too much for you try to lift him and you’re not a nurse, for crying out loud.”
Edie takes a bite of the coffee cake and I get up to refill our mugs with fresh coffee.
“He wants to die at home and I want to honor that. If it gets to be too much for Luke, then we’ll move him for the last part.”
“You’re a strong woman, even though you come in such a small, innocent-looking package.”
“I’ve got to go check on him and give him his afternoon meds. Take the rest of that cake home to the boys.”
“I would get so fat if I could bake like this,” Edie says as I put Reynolds wrap around the cake. She’s become such a good friend, checking in on us every day. She’s offered to stay with Ty all day tomorrow, while I suffer in a courtroom hundreds of miles away, trying to finalize John Van Buren out of my life.
“He’s not eating at all. At least not in the last three days. When the paid meds wear off the abdominal pain is terrible and when the painkillers are working, they kill his appetite. You can try the Ensure shakes or the Boost, they’re all in the pantry. But if he doesn’t want to eat, don’t force it. He always said he didn’t want us to prolong it.” I want to cry, but I force myself not to waiver. “He’s wet the bed a couple of times, Edie. There are pads underneath him if—“I can’t finish the sentence. I remember Ty’s huge body and strong arms picking me up as if I were a child, how he’d touch me in bed; he was so masculine, so muscular, so sexy and virile. His light is fading and I’m not ready for it to switch off and leave me in the dark.
“Listen, it’s not a big deal at all. We all come into this world in diapers and we leave that way, too. It’s fitting, he was always such a big baby, what a rotten, loveable jerk.” Edie is crying now, too, and she hugs me hard and sniffles into my shoulder. “What an asshole for leaving us. You two were, are, so perfect, Jess. A vision, the both of you. Your love is palpable, inspiring. I’m gonna get the hell out of here before I really start blubbering.”
“So, tomorrow at four. I’ll leave all the written instructions, you can text me. Luke needs to be up by six thirty and out of the house by seven. I’ll just leave him cash for his lunch.”
“I got it. Don’t worry at all. Go divorce the piece of crap, it would make Ty so happy to see you leave him in the dirt.”
I walk up the stairs with my ears perked, listening for any sound. I hold my breath every time I walk into this room. I’m terrified to find him without any life left in his body, frightened there will be pain, more tears or blood. I wonder how soon it will be before his death feels like a release, or how sick he can get before letting him go feels like a relief.
But he’s sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling. His color is off, his skin has taken on a sallow cast, but his face looks placid, there’s almost a hint of a smile gracing his lips.
I walk around the other side of the bed and kick off my slippers, pull the comforter back and slip in between the sheets next to him. I snuggle into his body that’s still warm and provides me with extraordinary comfort. I nuzzle his neck and rub my cheeks against his stubble. He stirs and pulls me close to him and I throw one leg up over his legs.
“Jess,” he murmurs and kisses my forehead.
“I’m here, baby. Can you eat something? Do you want to try to use the bathroom?”
“Just want you here,” he says. He feels so thin in my arms. I’m afraid we’re counting days at this point, if he won’t take in any sustenance.
“I have to go out of town tomorrow, to the City, for divorce court.”
“Good,” he says and a smile plays on his face. He opens his eyes and looks at me lucidly for the first time in days. “Come back after you’re done. I don’t want his name attached to you. He doesn’t deserve it; he hurt you.”
We whisper and hold each other as the sun goes down and darkness overtakes the bedroom. I don’t bother to eat or pee or even undress myself. All I want in this world is here in my arms. The minutes are ticking. Soon, even this will be too much and we’ll be forced to say goodbye.
“Mrs. Van Buren, is it true you wed your lover in a secret ceremony in the Adirondacks?” “Are you contesting the pre-nup? How much are you getting in alimony?” “Mrs. Van Buren, won’t you give us a statement? Can we get a word with your lawyer?” “Is it true Titan Jennings is a former intravenous drug user and contracted hep
atitis from shared needles?”
My lawyer shields me with his briefcase, practically lopping me in the face. I’ve worn sunglasses and my hair different from usual, but it didn’t matter, they were already circling like sharks, when we arrived at the courthouse.
“No questions, please. Mrs. Van Buren would like to keep the proceedings private!” my lawyer shouts as we make our way up the steps. They can’t come into the courthouse without a press pass, but they’ll gather and swarm until we leave and then they’ll attack us. My attorney’s shoes click and clack more than my heels on the hard marble floor. I’ve donned cream-colored slacks and a navy blue blazer, oversized sunglasses and platform heels to bolster my confidence.
“Jesenia, take the ring off. It doesn’t look good. If we’re lucky, they won’t even bring it up because it was a symbolic wedding and not, in any form, a legal ceremony,” my attorney says, he’s so matter-of-fact.
“I won’t take it off. It means too much to me. He’s dying.”
“I’m aware of the issue, but—“
“No, I mean he’s dying, like right now and I’m here doing this,” I don’t want to cry or go in there with smeared make-up all over my face. I don’t want to break down before we even set foot in the courtroom.
“Do you have a necklace on?” he says quietly out of the side of his mouth.
“No, I—“
He casts a quick glance around and then digs his fingers into his tight collar. He produces a thin gold chain with a crucifix on it. He undoes the clasp quite expertly and zips the crucifix off and slips it into his pocket.
“Ring?” he says speaking in a low voice.
I twist it off and hand it to him. He slips it onto the chain and in the blink of an eye fastens the chain around my neck.
“Slip it into your shirt. I lost my first wife to breast cancer. Okay? It’s close to your heart.” My eyes well up with tears at this short, and impatient man’s gesture. He’s loved and lost, too, my crazy-expensive, divorce lawyer.
Court is dry and much quicker than I expected. I’m not trying to get any money or property out of John, so we agree to all of the equitable distribution. It’s, in essence, an uncontested, run of the mill divorce. Just so happens that John is the state senator and I’m, in my own right, a somewhat public persona. But less than an hour later and they’re already filing the agreement.
In the hallway after we exit, my lawyer is running over final instructions, John approaches us, says, “excuse me,” and puts his hand out for me to shake it.
I look up at him and offer him mine, feeling a bit surprised and uneasy.
“Angelina just called me. Take one of my cars and a driver. You’ll get back upstate faster and it’s not safe for you to be driving under stress.”
“John, I’m fine really—“
“I’m not referring to your mental health. I’m referring to Titan Jenning’s health and I thought you’d want to get back to him.”
I’m speechless and stunned; it’s been so very long since he’s been kind. So many unfeeling years made me numb. I stand with my mouth agape, searching his eyes, waiting for the catch. But there is none, John is genuine. He suggests we leave together so I can utilize his bodyguards and the few secret service agents lingering in the hall.
“I’ll leave you at the steps. It’s necessary for me to make a statement to the press. I’m calling this ‘a divorce filled with admiration and mutual respect.’ I mean that, I wrote it. It’s not a political tactic, it’s the truth. I hope you make it back in time. I’m sorry that this is what you have to go through.”
He shakes my hand again and I’m still shocked into silence. We move as a large group toward the exit and as we near the door, the flashbulbs start popping and the questions flying, a full-blown media circus stands before us. We’re finally divorced, but the only thing on my mind is getting back, as fast as I can, to be by Ty’s side.
The door to the bedroom is ajar and I hold my breath. I push it open and Edie is asleep in a chair by the bed. I rush across the carpet and reach my hand out to touch Ty’s face. He’s warm, he’s breathing, I exhale a huge sigh of relief.
Twenty minutes later, I turn off the light and crawl into bed next to him. He pulls me close immediately and kisses my head.
“I’m no longer a Van Buren,” I whisper to him.
“Jennings,” Ty mumbles sleepily.
“How do you feel?” I ask him. He’s quiet, like he doesn’t want to answer. Miserable, I think. Probably suffering in pain. I wrap my arms around him protectively and snuggle into his body as much as possible.
“Perfect, now that you’re here with me.”
May
I feel like I have the flu. Fever. Chills. Stomach pain. I haven’t had the strength to get out of bed for the last two days. I itch everywhere. I’ve been shaking so badly that I knocked my water glass off the nightstand by mistake yesterday and where my hand hit the glass is bruised. Jess says that it is time to go to the hospital but I don’t want to. Not yet.
I need a little more time. I want a little more time. Luke says, if I lose one more pound, he will carry me to St. Mary’s himself. I need to relieve myself. Badly. I push the covers off me and swing my legs slowly to the floor. I take my time getting to my feet. Holding on to the edge of the bed, I take two steps. They are slow and lethargic. On the third step my right left leg doesn’t cooperate. I fall to the floor. My head hits the hardwood and I’m too tired to get up.
Footsteps rush the stairs. My head hurts. Warmth trickles down the side of my neck. The bedroom door blows open. “Dad!” I’m just so tired. I close my eyes. “Jess, hurry!” Luke sounds frantic. Don’t be frantic, I think. It will be okay. I just need to sleep for a moment.
I’m warm. I stretch in my spot. I feel better. Well rested. There are strange noises coming from the bedroom though. Carefully, I pry open my eyes. The room is bright and harsh. Machines surround me. Tubes vine around my arms. Why am I here?
“Titan,” Jess gasps. I smile at her. “You’re at St. Mary’s, love.” Tears roll down her cheeks. Her eyes are bloodshot. She’s been crying for a while. I don’t want her tears. I don’t want to be the one causing them.
“When?” I ask.
She scrunches up her face and shakes her head violently. “They aren’t sure. A few days, maybe.” Days? There are things I need to do still. Words I want to say. Letters I want to write. Kisses I want to share. Days is not long enough. I’m not prepared for mere days.
“Where’s Luke?” I ask beginning to feel panicked.
“Grabbing some food. He’ll be right back.” I lift my hand, hook Jess’s neck and pull her face to mine.
“I love you, baby. So much. Please don’t cry. Your tears gut me.” I bring my lips to hers. She tastes salty with tears. My stomach clenches in agony. I can’t stand to see her cry like this. I need to make things right.
“I’m not ready yet, Ty,” she whimpers.
“Neither am I. I’m still here, aren’t I?” She nods her head and presses her forehead to mine.
“What do you need me to do?” she asks.
“Get Angie here, for one. And two, don’t leave my side.”
Luke called Angie hours ago while I was out. Andrew was driving her and they should arrive any time now, so Jess says. I feel like I’ve missed precious hours with them all.
Luke comes back with a haul from the cafeteria and a vending machine. I can’t help but chuckle at his stash. “What?” he says, “I didn’t want to have to leave again for a while.”
“Come here, Bud,” I tell him. He empties his arms and comes to the bedside. “Get in.” For a moment he looks confused. I pat the bed next to me. He swallows hard but climbs in. I wrap an arm around him. “You’re the best son a man could have, Luke. I’m so proud of who you’ve become and I know you will only get better the older you get. I love you.” Luke sniffles and buries his face in the crook of my arm. I hold him there, as if he were still a little boy for a long while. “Hey,” I whis
per to him. “I need you to do a favor.”
He looks up and leans in close. I whisper what I need and how to make it happen.
Luke nods. “Now?”
“Yeah, Bud, we’ve got time, if you do it now.”
“Okay, Dad.” He climbs off the bed and jogs out the door to run an errand for me.
Dr. Hemphill arrives to administer morphine so that I’m comfortable. I appreciate it, but it also makes me less lucid. Jess is snuggled into my side, whispering I love you and peppering kisses wherever she can reach, when Angie shows up. She throws herself on top of me and squeezes me fiercely.
“Hi, to you, too,” I say smiling. She bursts out crying and I feel terrible. Jess gets up and wraps her daughter in a tight hug, letting her sob. Andrew shakes my hand and asks how I’m feeling right now. It might be the most appropriate thing anyone’s said to me all day.
“Right now? I’m happy. Everyone is here and it makes me happy,” I tell him. Andrew smiles at me and nods his head.
“Where is Luke?” Angie asks, suddenly realizing that he’s absent.
“I sent him on an errand. He should be back soon,” I explain.
The nurse comes in once more before Luke arrives. He’s out of breath and red in the face. Angie and Andrew are sitting on the small loveseat. Jess is in the bed with me and the TV is on but I’ve been in and out of sleep.
“I got it, Dad,” he says. He hands the paper to me and smiles.
I nudge Jess. She lifts her head and I hand her the marriage certificate. “Angie,” I say, “think you can find a notary?”
“I’m one,” Andrew says, lifting a brow.
Tears well in Jess’s eyes. “Be my wife, legally.”
