Shine: Wild Love Series
Page 17
He removes his hand but then hurriedly puts it back over my mouth. “Oh, and we’re guys. We’re idiots. We thought you’d know what we’re thinking and just go along with it. I didn’t mean it as an intention of moving in. But I do want my stuff here. Whatever that means. Anyway, because there’s more of us, guys, than you, the one woman in our group, I guess, we’ll have to work on the communication stuff. Or tell Paul what we’re thinking, so he can tell you.”
Paul grunts. “Why me? You think I’m some—”
“You’re an English professor,” Chris interrupts. “You’ve got to be able to communicate better than us.” Then he glances at me. “But I’ll work on my communication, Jane.”
“Kiss ass,” Gabe muffles under his breath.
Chris smiles. “Yeah, I love that ass of hers.”
Gabe softly laughs again and finally removes his hand. “So now comes the scary part for men. When we’ve been overbearing assholes and need to know you’re okay. We don’t need to move in or anything—”
“I have a huge closet,” I say quickly. “I—I don’t have many clothes, so there’s lots of room.”
“You’re not overwhelmed?” Paul asks, taking my hand and rubbing it. “I thought…then why were you crying?”
Tears threaten again and I place my free hand over my eyes. “Because…I’m happy.”
Paul removes my hand, looking at me. “Sure?”
“I have a bookcase I’ve never used before. We could have all of your books here. And—something’s burning.”
“Shit.” Gabe races away and removes the smoking-hot frying pan from my no-longer-virgin stove.
Then I’m on my feet, Paul and Chris kissing my cheeks. Paul says something about his class, and I have to get ready for mine. Chris complains about how hungry he is, but then insists he can help me in the shower.
And I’m not too sure, but I think three men are moving in with me.
I’m in bliss.
But like all the myths, I know something horrible will befall. No mere mortal shall live in bliss. The shoe will drop at any moment, because that’s real life. This isn’t some fucking fairy tale.
21
Is it possible to not breathe for four days?
I kept waiting for a shoe to drop. A bomb to detonate. For the men to wake up one morning and look at me with an edge of disgust in their eyes. Or apathy.
Four days of not breathing meant the days went by in a blur. The blizzard turned out to be a small storm. The snow melted by the next day. And somehow, through a lot of communication, which the men all seemed to make a point of mentioning how well they were doing at it, we seemed to be in a domestic situation. All of us. Together.
Gabe was right. It was weird as fuck.
Living with one man and getting used to his whiskers in the sink is one thing. But try living with three men who all shave. Three men who all sleep with me. My once huge and lonely bed is now swamped with limbs and snoring and someone always touching me.
During those four days, I would go to school, wondering if when I returned home the spell would be broken. The men would be gone. But last night I came home to Paul explaining the rules of rugby to Gabe and Chris and ESPN was on in the background. Loudly.
My once pristine home, too big for just me, is crowded and messy. It has a different smell. Food smells that I’d never created—garlic sauce and apple pie and chocolate cake. I’m fairly certain Gabe is trying to not just fatten me up but Paul too.
When I go on my runs, sometimes Gabe comes with me. I tried to go alone the first night after the guys “moved in.” But Gabe tackled me in a neighbor’s yard, where we ended up making out and nearly embarrassing ourselves before we hurried home.
We’re still not calling our domestic situation anything. We haven’t admitted anyone’s moved in. The men just want their stuff at my house since they’re over all the time. We’re not committing to anything. We haven’t said anything that can’t be taken back. And as much as we communicate sexual positions and our schedules and what we’re going to eat and sharing tidbits about ourselves, we’re not talking about what we’re actually doing.
Maybe we all have a fear of joy. The lessons from the Greek gods are they might strike us dead from lightning because humans aren’t supposed to be this happy. Ever.
Deep in my heart, I know I’m not supposed to be this ecstatic. My life has been brutal. I’ve seen my uncle shot through the eyes. I ran for three days before I collapsed on a highway. I was in the hospital for more than a month, recovering from my marathon, from the shock. Then my beautiful angel of a foster mother died when I was only twenty-four. My husband died a few days after I turned twenty-nine.
It’s in my bones. Misery. I know joy will not be here for long.
And I worry as I sit in the oncology department of the hospital, waiting for news about Bethany’s biopsy, that something horrible has happened to her. I know if she has cancer it has nothing to do with me. But it’s the way humans explain things to themselves, isn’t it? If we can’t blame a scapegoat, we blame ourselves.
In the waiting room with Sherman pacing and drinking cold coffee and huge Chris sitting next to me, I think about scapegoats. When I was a child, I cried when I’d read about the Hebrews and the goat they blamed for their sins, casting it out into the desert. I argued with my uncle about how the goat would die, surely, in those conditions. And wouldn’t it be even more a sin to cause suffering to an innocent animal?
He gently caressed my cheek. “Mary” —That was my birth name.— “you are such a sweet girl, always worried about fairness and decency. Justice. Such a good girl born with too much smarts to know what to do with.”
“You want a coke, Jane?”
Chris startles me from my thoughts and I blink up at him. I’m worried out of my head. My friend is having a surgeon cut into her throat and check a lump of tissue for cancer. Sherman is taking my place as my best friend’s friend. And I am happier with three men in my house, making messes with their whiskers in the sink, than I ever have been before.
Wrapping my arms around Chris, out comes words I hardly recognize as my own. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t, Jane. I promise.” He’s holding onto me too, whispering. “I’m here. I’ll try to explain anything the doctor says that you don’t understand, but I think you’re underestimating yourself.”
He thinks I’m asking him to stay in the waiting room. I asked him to be with me because I knew he had today off, and he speaks medical jargon. And if a shoe drops, I know he’ll catch me. I’m fairly certain Paul and Gabe would too. But it’s Chris who I know will catch me, no questions asked.
I lean away and notice Sherman smiling at Chris and me. Swallowing, I try to push away my panic and think of what he’s going through. Apparently, his wife received the papers for the divorce, because he came to work one morning in a rental car, confessing that his wife spray painted a giant penis on his Audi. Looks like the beginning of an ugly divorce.
But Sherman seems happy with Bethany. Really happy.
“Why don’t you ask if Sherman wants something to drink?” I ask Chris.
He smiles and stands, all billions of feet of him, and amiably walks closer to my dean, talking to him. I know he thinks Chris is my boyfriend. My only boyfriend. I wonder if Sherman would fire me if he knew two other men took a shower with me this morning, giving me two orgasms while I shampooed and repeated.
I wonder if he’d fire Paul if he finds out.
Neither Paul nor I are tenured. I’m hoping to be tenured next year. Paul might be eligible in two more years. So, since we are mere employees of the university, we could easily get fired.
I never thought about that until now. Just what the hell am I doing with three men at once?
“Going to get some sodas.” Chris smiles. He leans over and kisses the top of my head. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
I nod and he leaves much too fast.
“He’s a good man,” Sherman says.
“Hey! Jane, it’s your sister.”
I silently choke. It’s Deidra. My former sister in-law. She called me her sister when I married her brother. When I left the commune, I left behind twelve half-sisters who were strangers to me, since my mother and I were secluded from my father’s other wives. I never knew what having a sister would be like. But thanks to Deidra’s huge heart, I kind of know.
“Deidra, hello. Where are you?” I’m fascinated by my former sister-in-law. She’s a photojournalist. She’s been to Africa, Antarctica, all the A countries and so many more. She was almost never around during my marriage to Tim, except for these whirlwind weeks when she would show up, take me out to have beers with her, go shopping, and tell me about the countries she’d visited. Then she’d leave again.
When she visited, I felt so close to Tim. I think Tim felt that way too. He’d hold me, and we’d laugh together. At night, we’d make love like we used to when we were honeymooners. I think having her around reminded him of me when I was new and pretty.
“I’m in London now. Next Kenya,” Deidra says. “But I’ll be home around Christmas time. I want to visit with you. Catch up. Can we meet, have a few beers?”
“Of course!” I almost squeal. In a hospital.
God, I miss her. I haven’t seen her since Tim’s funeral. Oh, she’s called a few times in the last two years, but I thought she’d written me off. And I don’t blame her. I’m merely Tim’s wife. Her dead brother’s surviving wife, I should say.
So the fact that she’s calling me, asking for time to talk, makes me even more elated.
Deidra tells me she’ll call again soon, makes a few jokes about London’s weather, then we hang up, my heart crushing itself with joy.
“Sounds like that was a good friend,” Sherman says, reminding me of my friend who’s getting cut apart at that second.
I nod. “My f—sister-in-law.”
He smiles. “Is it serious between you two? I mean between you and Chris?”
I swallow.
“Sorry. I—that’s personal. I—I’m not sure what to do, Jane. Waiting like this. I hate that Bethany’s getting a biopsy. Don’t I sound like a melodramatic idiot?”
I lick my lips, not knowing what to do either, not sure what to say to comfort him.
“I’ve been in love with Bethany for six years now.” He nods and looks at the muted TV in the corner of the muted-colored waiting room. “Six. Six long years. I knew I shouldn’t have hired her. I knew I was attracted to her. But I couldn’t…not hire her. Good god, I’m using double negative sentences now.”
I softly giggle. “I think it’s okay to use double negative sentences in a hospital waiting room.”
He smiles and sits right in front of me, so we look each other in the eye. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Jane. Is it all right if I call you Jane?”
“Yes. I’d like that.”
“Is it completely unprofessional what I’ve done?”
“Who am I to judge?” I shake my head.
He sighs. “You’re right. I shouldn’t ask you. I should ask the chancellor.”
“Why? Why is it any of her business?”
Sherman’s quiet for a moment. He blinks slowly. “I love her. Bethany, not the—you know.” After a long sigh with his lips twisted in a miserable smile, he says, “I’d do anything for her. I know you would too. Are you angry at me for taking so much of her time away from you?”
The way Sherman is talking without any breath between subjects, the way he’s asking such personal questions has me off balance. I find myself liking him through it all.
“Yes,” I confess.
“Very angry?”
I smile. “I—I’m jealous. I want to be there for her. But I’m also so glad you’re here. I—I may not be the best comfort to her regarding…regarding her throat.”
Sherman nods. He knows my husband died from cancer. He gave me a card and flowers. He was there at the funeral, surprising me. He even gave me a hug, and I was relatively new at the university. It touched me that he had come, but I did wonder if he was forced to, for professional reasons.
He clears his throat. “I hope it’s all right that Bethany told me your mother passed away from cancer as well as your husband.”
I wince. I don’t mean to, but I do. However, the last thing I want to do is make him uncomfortable, so I nod.
“I’m so sorry, Jane.” Sherman’s sympathy is unnerving me. I’m not sure if I’ll scream and run away or just cry as he continues to talk. “And Bethany doesn’t want you to…to be affected by any of this. She wants to shield you from—”
“But she can’t.” I shake my head. “She can’t. I’m going to be there for her no matter what. And, yes, I was angry and sad she has you now. I want to be there for her. But—but that doesn’t mean I’m not also over the moon for the both of you, because I am. I’m so glad she found you. I’m so happy for the both of you. And I’m so relieved too that she has you to help her through this. But just know I can handle anything that happens. I will handle it and I’ll be her best friend, come what may.”
Sherman blinks, and I probably need to too. I’m close to tears, but everything I said was the truth. God, it would truly be horrific for Bethany if she has cancer, but I will not let what happened to me, what happened to my loved ones, interfere with loving and taking care of my friend. I’ve been selfish enough, shrouding myself with pity. Enough of it. Just enough.
Sherman reaches out and takes my hands. “She truly is lucky to have you.”
“Thank god, I found you.” Gabe marches into the waiting room. He’s wearing his uniform and looks so handsome it makes my heart stop. Or is that because my dean is staring at him while he sits where Chris was and kisses my cheek?
“Have you heard anything?” Gabe asks, then he glances at Sherman and gives a small smile.
I’m fairly certain my heart is now in my throat. My stomach, though, might be closer to my toes.
I shake my head. “Gabriel, this is my boss, my dean, Dr. Sherman Whittaker.”
Gabe reaches over and they shake. “Call me Gabe.”
I’m relieved that’s all Gabe’s said. I’m terrified he’ll say, “Call me Gabe, Jane’s other lover.” I know he won’t say that, but I’m still scared he’ll say something to tip off my dean.
“Sherman,” my dean says, his dark brows arched.
Gabe puts an arm around me. “You okay? Can I get anything for either of you? Oh, and I should warn you, I can’t stay for long. But dispatch gave me a few minutes to be here with you.”
“Thank you.” My voice is unsteady. Gabe being here is huge on a personal level. He’s showing me he cares.
But of all the times.
I smile stiffly at Sherman.
“Hey, man.” Chris’s voice is warm and welcoming as he returns. He sits on the opposite side of me, handing me a soda, then one to Sherman. He’s smiling at Gabe. “If I knew you were coming, I’d have gotten you a soda or water.”
Gabe gives Chris a genuine grin. “Yeah, I said how important it was for me to have a few minutes with Jane, to find out if her friend’s okay. Dispatch gave me fifteen. And I’ll steal from Jane’s soda if I get thirsty, but thanks.”
They look at each other the way buddies do. Nothing weird. Nothing going on at all.
Then Chris puts his hand on my thigh, and I know Sherman is watching with a skeptical eye.
My breathing is shaky. Or am I breathing?
“There you are.” And Paul, of course, walks through the door that minute. “Chris, man, I’ve been calling your cell, trying to find where you and Jane are. Hey, Gabe, you made it too?”
Paul then sees Sherman. He stalls for a nanosecond, but he smiles and walks forward.
“Dean
Whittaker, what a nice surprise to see you here.”
Sherman rises and shakes Paul’s hand. “Dr. Reddick, this is a surprise. Indeed.”
“I’m here for Jane. Although, Bethany really is the best secretary I’ve ever worked with.”
“Isn’t she, though?” My dean looks down at me while Paul claps Gabe’s shoulder, then sits next to Chris.
“Sorry,” Chris says to Paul. “I forgot my phone at home. But you found us. We still haven’t heard anything about Bethany.”
Paul nods, looks at me, glances at Sherman sitting back where he was, then gives me this goofy grin like we’re teenagers and he’s been caught making out with me by my dad. I almost laugh, but I’m pretty sure my heart up and went to Canada, giving out once I saw Paul.
Sherman takes a deep breath, placing both his palms on his knees. “So…Jane, you have wonderful friends for being here for you.”
“Yes, I do.”
He smiles and looks from Gabe, who’s now digging his fingers into my shoulder with a little too much force, to Chris, who I’m pretty sure isn’t breathing either, to Paul, who seems to be handling this better than anyone. He’s grinning and comfortably leaning back in his chair.
“Jane Emory and Sherman Whittaker?”
I stand. No, it was more like I jumped from my seat, finding the voice calling out for me. It’s Dr. Gallagher herself, looking adorable in surgeon’s scrubs a size too big for her.
She smiles and glances at Sherman not too far behind me. When Sherman catches up, she says, “We did the lab tests right away and found the tumor to be benign.”
I sag. I can barely stand up. I’m so relieved.
“Of course,” she continues, “I’d like to keep an eye on it. It was a strange place to grow a tumor. But right now we have nothing further to worry over. She’s going to need to be taken care of for the rest of the day. She probably won’t want to talk. But by tomorrow, she’ll be feeling like her old self.”