He Loves Me Healthy, He Loves Me Not

by Renee Dyer

  Brenna didn’t want to hear me either when I told her it was time to go. I had told my mom we’d be back to have dinner with Brady. I started preparing Brenna over an hour early, knowing she wouldn’t leave Nate’s side easily. Even then, I was practically dragging her from the hospital. The look of distress she gave me nearly did me in.

  In the car, she turned her face toward the window and a stillness fell around us. I didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t have anything to say to me. Halfway home, I heard her sniffle. Peeking at her, my heart broke. Silent tears streamed down her face, reflecting back at me in the window. I still had no words of comfort. There was nothing anyone could say to me that would have made me feel better the first day I left him. I wasn’t going to throw meaningless words at her. So, I did all I could think to do: I reached over and grabbed her hand in mine.

  “A mother should never leave her child behind,” she said in a hushed tone.

  I knew exactly how she felt. A father shouldn’t either.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Brenna

  My life changed so fast, I struggled to keep up. Nate came home and Nick and I learned it was more frightening to have him with us than to see him with wires and tubes sticking out of him. Being responsible for a baby we had to keep an eye on constantly, to make sure was breathing, drained us daily. Nate was a trooper, stronger than both of us, but we kept vigil. I think we needed the reassurance we were doing everything right. Such a comical thought.

  What parents do everything right?

  Brady loved being a big brother and had several t-shirts that allowed him to flaunt his pride. He couldn’t get enough of taking pictures with him. He didn’t even get mad when we told him none of his friends from daycare could come to his birthday party. Nate had only been home a month, so we had a very small family party. Then came the fun part of getting family members to understand they couldn’t pass Nate around. The thought of Nate getting sick kept us from wanting anyone touching him.

  Summer flew by and I was a complete ball of stress. I couldn’t send Brady to preschool. The germs he could bring home from other kids could get Nate sick. I hated having Brady miss out, so I reached out to my brother Jeremy. He was happy to print out the day-to-day curriculum the preschoolers used in his daycare. It took me a couple weeks, but I got myself set up with how best to make school work for my smart guy.

  Part of the living room became a classroom. Brady was ecstatic when we brought his Elmo table and chairs down from his room to use as a desk. He jumped around in a circles, yelling, “Yay! I get to go to school.” I was glad he felt learning with me was as good as going to a regular preschool. I wanted him to enjoy it. Before our school year started, I made a Mommy-n-Me Preschool sign. On our first day, Nick took pictures of us with and without the sign. It was the perfect way for me to feel like I was a real teacher. For two hours each day, we went through the work Jeremy gave me, writing his letters and numbers, counting, practicing cutting shapes, and memory games. Every other day, we fit in arts and crafts time. I decided each month we’d pick a theme and decorate the bay window. I even planned two field trips for the year, knowing Janice would be happy to watch Nate for me.

  Images of our projects and decorated windows garnered lots of attention on Facebook from family and friends. I started to wonder if I fit into one of Nick’s categories. He’d laugh each time I asked and tell me I was just proud of what our little man was accomplishing.

  Nate changed each month. He went from a skinny-faced newborn to a plump-faced baby. He, too, had brown eyes, but they were closer in color to mine. Brady and Nick’s eyes are dark, but Nate’s almost border on hazel and when he smiles, his face lights up like a carousel. All the worry I had over what could be wrong with him faded away the first time he drank from a bottle. I just needed him to do something a normal baby should. I’ve cried a lot of tears of anger and sadness, but that day, tears of joy streamed down my cheeks. It was the day I knew he was going to be released from the hospital soon—be able to sleep under the same roof as the rest of our family. How happy we’ve been, having him home with us, being a complete family.

  Since then, he’s started working with an early childhood center to help him with the delays he’s facing from being a preemie. Nick and I hadn’t realized they were so extensive. All his motor skills were delayed. We were blown away by that. We knew his vocal abilities would be an issue. He didn’t make sounds until he was nine months old. It was like listening to a person with laryngitis. Air would come out, but there was no noise. It made for many disconcerting months.

  The day a laugh popped through, it scared me, and I dropped a glass, shattering it. It was over the monitor while I was washing dishes. Brady and Nate were down for naps. This tiny giggle jumped through the speaker next to me. It was amplified because I always kept the volume at the highest setting. I lurched around, looking for the source of the sound, throwing the glass into the air. Suddenly, another giggle sounded out from the monitor and I didn’t care about the shards covering the floor. I carefully stepped around the glass and raced for Nate’s room. At the door, I stopped, and my heart melted with love for my sons. Brady was standing next to Nate’s crib, silently playing peek-a-boo with him.

  I watched for a few seconds before I snuck down the stairs and cleaned the mess I’d made. I couldn’t contain my happiness, so I picked up the phone and called Nick. As soon as he answered, I started talking.

  “Our boys are amazing!”

  “I agree, but how about you tell me what has you so cheery, gorgeous?” I can feel his smile through the phone and it makes my heart overflow with love.

  “Nate laughed.”

  “Okay? I’m missing something, aren’t I?” he asks.

  “There was sound, Nick. He made his first sound.”

  “Holy shit. I’m coming home!”

  I heard a click and knew he would be home soon. It was nice to have him coming home for something happy for once.

  We celebrated that night with pizza. Not for Nate, of course. Brady was able to get Nate to giggle so Nick could see it. The pride wafting off my husband had me bursting with joy. This is how life is supposed to be.

  It’s how I wanted it to stay.

  But, Nick and I learned a long time ago that life isn’t fair.

  It throws curveballs when you least expect it.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Nick

  For months, I’ve watched Brenna wear many hats. She’s been wife, mother, housekeeper, and teacher in our home. No matter how tired she is each night, she never complains. When I get home from work, she greets me with a kiss and asks how my day was. Dinner is always ready or cooking. The boys are happily playing. I live in awe of her. Especially since her headaches have started getting worse.

  She thinks I haven’t noticed.

  I wish I hadn’t, but I catch her often rubbing at the back of her head, digging her fingers into her neck. I see her face contort in discomfort. When she notices I’m watching, she drops her hands, smiles, and starts talking about something upbeat. I know she’s hurting, but it’s obviously not bad enough to hinder her daily life. She’d tell me if it was.

  Three weeks ago, we celebrated Nate’s first birthday. I can’t believe our little bean is a year old already. Brenna put together a huge Mexican fiesta. Everyone wore sombreros. We made tacos for the kids and the adults had a make-your-own burrito bar. Fresh made guacamole and salsa lined the tables. Brenna figured Nate wouldn’t want a party like this until he was much older, so this was the year to go all out. Besides, we had a major reason to celebrate.

  Nate had made it this far with no big complications. Most of the people at the party had seen him grow and change since the beginning. They saw him struggle to become the funny little guy he is now—the one who is almost walking.

  The kids loved the maracas. Brenna was sure to get all their pictures in the flamenco dancer display. The piñata was a hit. Literally.

  Everything about that day was
awesome until the crowd was gone and I watched Brenna fold herself onto the couch. Bags under her eyes, her hair starting to come loose from her ponytail, and she was rubbing her neck again. Brady asked her to go play in his room. She smiled at him and told him in a few minutes. He ran up the stairs and her smile dropped. In its place was a somber expression I hadn’t seen in a while. Something was wrong, and I needed to know what.

  Sitting in front of her, I asked, “What’s going on, Bren?”

  She didn’t look at me, just sighed, and said, “It’s been a long day—week, actually. I’m tired, Nick.” She started to get up, dismissing our conversation, but I caught the way she winced when she moved her right arm.

  “Lie down and rest, babe. I’ll go play with Brady. I’ll even bring little man up with me. You’ve worked hard enough today.” I helped her lay back down, lifted her feet to the couch, and kissed her head. Her eyes closed before I even took a couple steps.

  I was worried about what she wasn’t saying, but I knew getting into it with her then would have been a mistake. She was never willing to have words when the kids were awake.

  So, I planned the date we’re on today.

  I dropped the boys off with Helen and left Brenna to get ready. She loves our dates. We never get ready in the same room, so it’s a surprise what the other is wearing. Just like if I were picking her up for our first date. Brenna told me when we were seeing each other if we ever got married she didn’t want to turn into one of those couples who forgot to have time together. She said it was important that we always remember how special we are to each other. I didn’t understand what she meant then.

  After having kids, I understand now.

  In jeans, with a lavender V-neck tee, and flip-flops on, she is gorgeous. Her dirty blonde hair hangs loose over her shoulders and she’s only wearing a light coat of make-up. She’s as stunning now as she was when I met her eleven years ago. It makes me nervous the way she’s watching me, searching for a sign of what I have planned. My feet move, but I don’t remember my brain telling them to. Each step brings me closer to her. I can’t take my eyes off her lips. That smile—damn, she can bring me to my knees. Make me a begging fool with just a look.

  “You are ageless, Bren. My hairline keeps creeping back and you don’t look a day older than when I met you. It’s not fair, ya know?”

  Her lips quirk higher and I can’t wait any longer. My hands find her waist and my mouth finds hers. We kiss like we’re each other’s last breath, our bodies warm against the other. Pulling away from her is the last thing I want to do, but we have someplace to be. Slowing the kiss, I slide my hands off her body, and start to step back. Disappointment mars her face and my ego does a little victory dance.

  “Shall we?” I ask, holding out my arm to her. She places her hand in the crook of my elbow and grabs her purse as we walk out the door.

  In the car, I decide it’s time to bring up the conversation I’ve been dreading. She can’t run away, and hopefully, we can move past it quickly enough to enjoy the rest of our day.

  “Your headaches are getting worse, aren’t they?”

  Her head snaps up so quickly, I’m afraid she’ll give herself whiplash.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  She doesn’t deny it and that’s all the confirmation I need. “How long has the pain been increasing?” She starts to pick at her jeans and I know I won’t like the answer.

  “Since about two months after Nate was born.” She faces the window, but looks down.

  “That’s almost a year, Bren! Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Dr. Wendell is keeping an eye on the progress. I didn’t feel I needed to worry you.”

  “Worry me? It’s not about that, Bren. Does this mean the surgery didn’t work? I mean, do you…” I can’t get the words out, but the thought that she may have to have another surgery hits me like a wrecking ball to the nuts.

  “Doesn’t mean anything at this point. Could just be that I’m doing too much. There’s really no way for me to slow down, Nick. I’m taking care of two small kids. I’ll be alright.” She reaches out and squeezes my thigh, facing me. I want to believe her, to believe she’ll be alright, but my gut says something else. “Can we just enjoy this gorgeous day? Please,” she begs.

  I have never been able to deny her a thing.

  As we approach the surprise, I have her tie a bandana around her eyes. It’s really nothing fancy I have planned, but I need time to set up. I ask her as sweetly as I can to stay in the car and let her know I’ll be back for her shortly. She pouts, making me want to bite her lip, but I manage to refrain. It amuses me to think what must have been going through her head as she hears me grabbing things from the trunk.

  A few minutes later, I’m at her door, helping her from her seat. “You didn’t peek, did you?”

  “Uh-uh,” she murmurs, grasping my hand.

  I reach up and pull the blindfold off, still standing in front of her. She tries to look around me, but I move with her. Her annoyed scowl makes me laugh. “Alright, alright, you can look now.” I step to the side and watch as her eyes go wide and her fingers loosen from mine. She starts to walk toward her little piece of heaven.

  I found this place in high school. I was driving around, bored out of my mind, when I saw this dirt driveway. I remember thinking I probably shouldn’t drive down there, but I did anyway. It led to this massive field. There was nothing there except woods. The trees protected it from the highway, cars, prying eyes of neighbors—everything. I came here often for a few years. It became my relaxation spot. I never told another soul about it. Then, I stopped coming here. Kind of forgot about it. Guess I got too cool for nature.

  Until now.

  Brenna gawks at the display in front of her and I’m beaming with pride at how fantastic I am. Hey, it takes work to put together the perfect afternoon for your wife. Her favorite Patriots blanket is laid out on the grass. The blanket she says is so soft and squishy, she could cuddle it every day. I even brought a couple throw pillows in case she actually wants to get cozy. A large wicker picnic basket sits in the corner, full of her favorite lunch items. Turkey sub full of vegetables. Tortellini salad. Fresh Fruit. Tiramisu for dessert. I used food coloring to dye the water red so it would look like she’s having wine. Just because she doesn’t drink wine doesn’t mean lunch can’t look fancy. A vase filled with daisies I picked from the field is in the middle of the blanket.

  If I were a lady, I think I’d like this set up. I’m just hoping her allergies don’t go crazy from the flowers.

  “This is beautiful, Nick.”

  She walks toward the blanket, but stops and picks a daisy. One by one, she plucks off the petals, and I see her lips moving. When the daisy is naked of all its petals, she grabs another one and does it again. I watch her do this three more times before I ask, “What in the world are you doing? What did the daisies ever do to you to deserve being amputated?”

  When Brenna belly laughs, I swear something broken in the world gets repaired. It’s a soul deep happiness that comes out of her and shakes anyone near her to their core. And apparently, my question was funny.

  “I’m playing He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not, just like when I was a kid,” she says, like that answers everything. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

  “Huh?”

  Roaring laughter fills the air. She points at me and holds her stomach. I point at me, not understanding anything that’s going on. Women are fucking weird.

  “Sorry,” she finally manages around a few giggles. “That dumbfounded look you had was priceless. Let me show you.”

  She proceeds to pick another daisy and goes about amputating the poor thing as she recites, “He loves me. He loves me not,” over and over. Yep, women are fucking weird. Little girls play this? To see if a boy likes them? Seriously?

  “I love you, Bren. No need to rip anymore flowers apart, okay?”

  “You’re really offended for the flowers, aren’t you?” she teases.<
br />
  “I am. Someone has to be their defender,” I proclaim, puffing my chest, making her laugh all over again.

  “Ooh, I like you being all defendery.”

  “Defendery? Oh, man. Well, since you’re talking like a child, tell me, what else did you like when you were young?”

  She starts to walk toward the blanket again, but stops abruptly. I almost collide with her. She turns and the grin on her face makes me smile. Whatever memory she’s having, makes me wish I was there.

  “Piggybacks,” she blurts.

  “Piggybacks?”

  “Oh yeah! When I was little, my big brothers would give me piggybacks all the time. I had to watch out for Austin, though. If we were in the house, he liked to grab me from his back and toss me across the room onto the couch. I bit into my tongue once.”

  Her face scrunches up and I’m sure she’s remembering how much that hurt.

  “Get on.”

  “What?” she asks.

  “Get on. I’ll give you a ride to the blanket.”

  I don’t have to tell her twice. She bolts behind me and I bend enough for her to climb up. Her arms wrap around my neck and I grab her legs tight. The image of her ass bouncing with each step I take flashes behind my eyelids every time I blink. This woman may be the death of me.

  “Thank you, Nick.”

  Her words stir emotions I was trying to leave alone for the rest of our date, but there is something I need her to know. Things I need her to understand. “You’re never alone, babe. If you get tired, feel weak, or fall—I will be there to carry you.”

  Her arms tighten around me and her head comes to rest against mine. Words aren’t necessary.

  Our lunch is delicious. We talk and joke about life, my work, the kids, anything we can think of. The afternoon slips away. Brenna asked what I liked to do as a kid and I told her play with trucks. Well, we didn’t have any trucks with us, but we both thought making shapes with clouds was a pretty awesome throwback to our childhood days. Lying back on the pillows, the ones I so thoughtfully brought with us, we gazed up into the sky. Brenna was much better at it than me. She saw a dragon, and made me see it, too. A minute later, she saw a heart. I asked if a blob counted and she chuckled, slapping my shoulder. I tried getting away with a circle, but that didn’t fly either. Her last shape was the winner—or should I say wiener?—of the day. She started kicking her feet and giggling like a pre-pubescent teen as she announced, “Look at the pecker in the sky.”