And so I'd pushed on and went to radiation, and the rest of the time I pretended it didn't exist. I pretended that my body wasn't waging a war against it's own cells as I lost myself in Auburn -- her smile, her love, her laugh. But I hadn't been able to silence the nagging fact that I didn't know if I could give her forever. I'd forced myself to get to that six-month check-up. I had to know what my future held before I could give myself to her. Coming out of that appointment the week before Christmas with a confirmation that the treatment had worked had me anxious to sign the divorce papers and more excited than ever to tell Auburn my plans for our future, together.
twenty-seven
But cancer isn't forgiving, or discerning, or fair.
I sat muddled and desperate for a miracle in the waiting room, all too aware that sooner or later my miracles were bound to run out.
Three months after my life fell apart one snowy Christmas night, it crumbled again when Dr. Blair stepped into his office, a look of resignation on his face.
The cold settled into my bones when the oncologist reluctantly stated that the cancer had metastasized into the lymph nodes. My vision fragmented and my breathing became shallow. My lungs screamed for air as the synapses in my brain fired off with broken pieces of a life I loved.
The doctor used words like aggressive and chemotherapy. Long term likelihood and side effects. I'd dodged one bullet last summer, but maybe it had been the bullet that had done me in. I suddenly wondered if I'd chosen the wrong oncologist. Maybe if I'd gone to Detroit I'd have found a better one that recommended chemotherapy from the beginning and this cancer wouldn't have come back.
But it had. My hands shook before I bolted out of the chair and left his office. He and a nurse trailed into the waiting room after me, and the last words I heard as the heavy glass-paned door slammed was, "Call to schedule first round."
I didn't want it, didn't want any of it. Impossible. Not right. I was only twenty-eight years old. I wanted her. Wanted Auburn, but I'd chosen not to tell her about the radiation last summer to save her, and I would do it again. She'd left, moved on, and I'd continued, I'd been working to get her back, divorcing Mel and talking to the superintendent, but with one word, everything fell apart.
Metastasized.
That same day I walked into the superintendents's office and took a leave of absence, effective immediately. I hadn't told him about the radiation last summer, and apparently I'd hidden it well. For once the summer rush of tourists had paid off, it was easy to get lost three times a week for a half hour each time in Traverse.
He'd sat dumbfounded, as I turned and left his office. I wouldn't answer questions, couldn’t bear to get the words out, I needed to sit with this myself, so I just kept moving.
I started treatments the following week. Driving every day to Traverse by myself, letting them pump my veins with toxins to rid the diseased cells from my body. I hunched over my own toilet, weak and shaking, sick from the chemicals that were constantly fed into my bloodstream to kill something I couldn't even see.
And I dreamed of her. On the rare moments at night that my mind could focus and the shaking and sweats didn't obscure my vision, I read. I read “Lolita” and “To the Lighthouse” and “The Sun Also Rises.” I filled her bookshelf with the volumes I knew she'd love, and I survived.
twenty-eight
By week two of treatment everyone in town knew I'd taken a leave of absence. Mel was calling at all hours of the day and night, and each time I sent her to voicemail. It wasn't long before my inbox had filled and would no longer accept new messages. The urge to throw my phone away was powerful, but somewhere in the back of my mind I still hoped she would call.
And yet, when I saw her name pop up on the caller ID, I was surprised.
"Auburn." I answered, my voice shaking as I lay in bed, a book in my weakened hands.
"Why did you take a leave of absence?" She cut straight to the point. I would have cringed, but the happiness pulsing through my veins overpowered all else.
"It's good to hear from you too." I hummed, momentarily forgetting everything but her.
"Are you okay?" Her concerned voice melted my insides. I missed her. Fuck, it felt like my chest was caving in I missed her so much.
"No, I'm not okay." I couldn't lie to her anymore. I had one regret this summer, one thing that haunted me, not telling her.
"What's going on?" The fear ratcheted another notch in her voice.
"Can you come over?"
Auburn was at my door less than two hours later. She held me and we cried on my couch while I stroked her back and explained the details, including the timeline of treatment and prognosis, and I finally confessed that I'd been through this once before.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her eyelashes were heavy with her tears.
"I didn't know what the outcome would be, Auburn. I still don't. I can't promise you forever," I said, quietly.
"Reed." She breathed as fresh tears flooded her eyes. She cupped my rough-shaven cheeks in her palms. "I don't care about forever. Forever is relative. I'm staying with you because I love you." She placed a soft kiss on my dry lips and my heart tightened.
"You can't stay," I murmured, the words tearing me to pieces as I said them.
"Too bad. You're stuck with me." She smiled as she wiped at fresh tears.
"I won't let you. Cancer is dirty. Chemo destroys you. I have to take supplements because I can't keep anything down most days! I don't want you to see that. I won't let you." I pulled away and stood to pace. I quickly thought better when my muscles protested, causing the room to swim. I walked to the french doors and placed a hand against the cool pane of glass for support.
"You should go," I rumbled, angry all over again that the cancer was taking everything I loved. My vision swirled and darkened as I gazed out at blinding sunlight.
"Reed!" was the last thing I heard before my body crumbled and everything went black.
twenty-nine
Auburn stayed through the remainder of my chemotherapy. She went to every appointment I had, held me when the shakes rendered my body nearly useless, and soothed me when I found myself sick and panting on the bathroom floor at three in the morning, even if it meant skipping class to do so. We fought about it, but when I saw the love and concern in her eyes, I knew to give up the fight. She'd taken care of her grandma all summer, she was a nurturer at heart. And so I let her nurture.
April passed and for my twenty-ninth birthday we shaved my head and planted ourselves in front of the television to watch a double-header and binge on the carrot cake she'd made for me. I'd only managed a small sliver before my stomach had twisted in protest, but still, it was my favorite birthday of all of them.
May came and Auburn officially moved in with me. She finally confessed that her story had been about us, and while she still wouldn’t let me read it in full, I knew where she was headed, and I encouraged her to continue. We worked on sections together, and we had fun. I begged her to publish, but she shrugged me off every time, saying the story had become too personal. I told her every day that I hoped she'd change her mind.
Mel showed up on our doorstep the last few weeks of my treatment, on the day our divorce was made final. She'd taken one look at my bald head and burst into tears, apologizing that she hadn't come to see me sooner, and sputtering nonsense like, “I just couldn't bear to see you like that, it's too heartbreaking.” Auburn and I had laughed and rolled our eyes when she left, thankful to put Mel and her relentless negativity behind us.
As May slipped into June we celebrated the final round of treatment. My hair began to grow back and my energy returned. I felt well. I felt alive. Auburn stayed with me at my apartment, and between checking on her grandma often, working at a small boutique downtown, and writing, we stayed busy. We stayed happy. And we began to talk about our future.
On the Fourth of July I asked her meet me at the water. When she arrived, her eyes took in the freshly-cut clearing at the top of the hill overlooking the
bay with a quizzical head tilt.
"I'm building us a house." I grinned and pulled the rolled up house plans from my back pocket. Her mouth fell in shock before she rushed to me.
"Are you crazy?!" She planted her hands on my cheeks and kissed me.
"Crazy for you," I murmured between soft strokes of my tongue. I nipped at her lips as my hands trailed up her body, desperate to really feel her again after the exhaustion of the last sixteen weeks. I knelt and pulled her along with me, my hands planted on either side of her head as I kissed her. I didn't care if my muscles were weak and my bones tired, I didn't care if I'd lost thirty pounds and the sun ate at my skin like a thousand tiny pinpricks despite the fact that I'd slathered myself in sunscreen and worn a long-sleeved shirt.
"Reed?" She questioned when I rocked my erection between her legs.
"I need you," I hummed and nipped my way down her neck.
"Are you ready?" she asked as her hands skimmed across my scalp.
"I've been ready for seven months." I grunted and slid a hand between us, running it up the seam of her shorts. She pulled back, caught my eyes with hers, searching, finding what I wasn’t sure, before she kissed me again ad slid out from beneath me. "Lay back," she purred, peeling her top over her head to reveal her full breasts, concealed by wisps of red lace. My dick pounded as her nipples hardened and pressed through the transparent design, chilled by the soft breeze.
I leaned back on the grass as Auburn crawled on her knees to me, eyes sparking with a lust she'd kept hidden from me these last months, for my own good I was sure, but it'd killed me every time she'd walked out of the shower wrapped in a towel, my dick too weak to even think about doing what I wanted it to. But now was I ever ready.
Auburn slid up my body, unzipping my jeans as she passed and pushing a hand down the denim. She connected with my cock and my body was wracked with some blend of pleasure and desperate, aching, throbbing pain. My hands reached for her, unhooking the button and sliding the fabric down her thighs. No panties.
"So beautiful,” I moaned, my hands sliding up and down the silky skin. She kicked the shorts from her legs and slid my jeans down my hips, revealing my rock hard erection to her. With a smile on her face she ran her tongue up my shaft, watching it twitch and jump. She placed a soft kiss on the tip, then continued her crawl up to my lips. My hands twisted in her hair and I held her fiercely while I explored her mouth with my tongue. Nestled between her thighs, she kissed me and ground herself against my dick, rubbing at her clit, teasing me at her entrance, and back again. I nearly lost my mind.
"Did you bring a condom?" she murmured between breathless kisses, my cock nestled in the hot silk between her thighs.
I shook my head, breathless at the thought of stopping this just when I was anxious to connect with her again. "The doctor said chemo lowers sperm count.” I arched and jerked my hips. “I think we're safe."
"Mmm..." she hummed and continued to work back and forth before I caught her hips, stilling her long enough to finally bury myself inside of her. My head fell back and a groan vibrated from my throat. Endorphins rushed to my brain as Auburn worked back and forth, her hands locked around my neck, her lips trailing across my throat. I wrapped her hair around my fist and pulled gently, bending her back so I could feast my eyes on the beautiful body I'd missed so much. My hips set a punishing rhythm as I took and took, something I was always doing with her, before her hands slid down my chest, her lips landed at my ear.
"Are you okay?" My heart melted into a puddle at her beautiful feet. She was worried my body couldn’t handle this so soon after chemotherapy. I was worried my body couldn’t handle another day without her.
"I'm perfect.” I nuzzled at her ear and ran my palms down her waist, across her back, to land on her bottom. She moved slower now, and as my muscles felt the strain of overwork for the first time in too long, I slowed my rhythm. Her soft lips trailed kisses around my nipples and her fingernails ran delicately across my prominently pronounced hips. I pushed one hand between her thighs and swirled at the sensitive nerves of her clitoris while she kissed and rocked in a sensual rhythm. It wasn't long before her legs strung tight, her fists clutched at my neck, and she came in slow, delicious waves around my dick, spurring on my own orgasm. With tears in my eyes I spilled all the love I had, pumping slow and steady through my veins, into her. She breathed life into me, and it was finally my time to give it back. I had more hope for my future now, with her, than I ever had in all the years that came before.
I loved her completely. She filled every corner of my enraptured heart. She'd taught me to make each moment so beautiful it's worth remembering.
It was that thought that carried me into the jewelry store a week later. It's for that reason I bought her a ring.
It was finally our time.
thirty
The contractor came to break ground on our cozy A-frame on a humid morning in August. Auburn and I waited at nine am to watch the backhoe dig the first trench. The teeth of the heavy machinery bit into the soft ground and we cheered and clapped. Auburn ran her hands over my stubbled scalp as she kissed me through smiles and happy tears. I held her tightly as my body swayed in the sun.
"Are you okay?" She held my biceps as her eyes nailed mine.
"The best I've ever been.” I placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I just need some water. This humidity is a killer." I swiped at the sweat on my forehead.
"Here." She shoved a bottle of water at me. "Drink it all, you're probably dehydrated."
I grinned as I unscrewed the top.
“What are you smiling about?” She planted a hand on her hip.
“I was thinking you'll be a great mom someday.” I winked before bringing the cool moisture to my lips.
“Oh.” Her mouth rounded adorably. I took long swallows of the cold water as I watched her eyes avert and her head tilt to one side for a moment. “So...kids, you think you'd like kids someday?” Her eyes had slowly made there way back to mine.
I finished the bottle and took a step to close the distance between us. “I can't wait to have babies with you, Auburn.” I hummed, my hand resting on her flat stomach. Her eyes fell for a moment before a slow smile lit her face. I rubbed at a slow ache in my chest as my smile grew watching the sunlight wash her golden cheeks and shine in a halo of prisms off her silky hair.
My world swayed and tilted again and her mesmerizing brown eyes fluttered open to meet mine when the sound of the plastic bottle crackling in my fist erupted in the air between us. I dropped to my knees and clutched my chest, my heart pounding in an inferno of flames.
"Reed!" She dropped with me, palms on my face, searching my eyes for answers.
"Call an ambulance." I whispered as my heart slowed to an unnatural pace.
"Breathe deep, just take deep breaths." She kept repeating as she fumbled with her phone. "Just breathe. I love you so much, please, breathe. Just breathe." Were the last words I heard before my muscles loosened and I knew I was falling. Not for her, as I had the moment she'd came into my life again, but away. So far away.
epilogue
Auburn
Reed died on a balmy day in August, after collapsing at my feet in our cherry orchard.
An underlying heart condition, they’d said. The chemotherapy had left damage, they'd said. It didn't matter, he was gone, and he'd taken my heart with him when he'd left. But he left me so much in return. I carried his love with me every day.
The story I wrote that first summer ended up being much more his story than mine.
I’d only had to type and out it'd poured, our love written on every page. Everything that had defined us was there. In retrospect I see that it'd helped me to understand him more, helped me love him through the pain and indecision. As I look back on what he often called my patience…it was this. It was the writing that saved me.
When I'd finally made the agonizing decision to publish Beautiful Burn, I'd taken my life by the reins to steer it in the direction I intended f
or it to go. I’d grown, learned, hurt, and healed, and stood two years later a better woman. A woman more confident in herself and her ability to design her life. In the beginning I'd sometimes wondered if I'd betrayed him in publishing our story, but as time ticked on and I thought back on all the times he'd begged me to publish, I felt the bigger betrayal would have been to hold it inside and let it fester. Writing our story had been a necessary step in healing the hole he’d left in my heart.
My eyes gazed upon the ornate iron and gold-washed statues, obscured in a flurry of falling snowflakes as the river surged and flowed beneath me. Intricately wrought limestone buildings dotted with charcoal-black balconies fanned out in all directions as strangers hurried past, loaves of baguette peaking out of brown paper bags. A slow smile crept across my lips and my heart fluttered. I'd made it, I was really here.
I’d moved to Paris three months ago, taking the money I’d made on royalties from Beautiful Burn to pay my way The City of Light. I stood on one of the most ornately constructed bridges in the city and watched snowflakes in April drifting down to melt into the rolling Seine. I sucked in a breath of the uncharacteristically cool air, shoved my hands in my pockets, and walked a few blocks up the Left Bank. I'd been all over this neighborhood already. Visiting the spots where Picasso, Hemingway, and Fitzgerald lived and worked was a next to godly experience, marveling in the windows of antique book dealers had me rooted in awe, and the immaculately-landscaped streets and gardens took my breath away. Paris quite simply lived up to every high expectation I'd had for it.
I only wished he could see it with me.
I walked with hands buried in the pockets of my thick wool coat with a plaid scarf wrapped around my neck fighting back the chill. Through charming streets dotted with bakeries and delicatessens, I wove until finally reaching the small apartment I'd rented off of a quiet side-street. My keys jingled as I worked the old lock and finally pushed in the door, ducking in quickly before the snow could breeze in behind me. Dropping my keys on the side table, I hung my coat and kicked off my boots before rounding the corner into the kitchen.
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