I head over to the appointment where I find out I am having a boy. That is great news since Ander will be doing this alone. It just means I have to write down the woman side of things.
So I start to write. I write whatever is in my head at the time, to Ander and the baby. Sometimes, they are short; other times, they take pages. Either way, they will still know what I’m trying to say. I love this idea. Ander is so wrapped up in whatever he is doing, the only time I see him is when he crawls into bed. This leaves me plenty of time to type. I start with my son. I start by hiding numbered notes around the house that, hopefully, Ander will find when I am gone and he is forced to be home.
1 – You are loved beyond anyone else in this world. I may not be here, but you are here because I loved you beyond what the doctors and nurses wanted me to. I love you always and unconditionally. There is nothing in my wildest dreams that will ever make me not love you, even if you kill a person. Now, I don’t suggest that, but even then, I would love you nonetheless. There is no greater thing in this world than a mother’s love and you will always have mine. When time is tough at school, have your dad teach you to fight back, okay? When you are sick and in Dad’s arms crying, know that I am crying with you, wishing I could fix it. Love is an amazing thing. It brought your father and me together. So, amongst all the junk crammed in that smart brain of yours, know you are supremely and perfectly loved and nothing can ever change that. Nothing. ~ Love, Mama
2 – I am proud of you. I don’t care if you don’t go to college and choose to follow in Dad’s footsteps. College is not for everyone. Maybe you like cars and go that direction. Whatever it is, as long as you put your heart into it, I am proud of you. ~ Love, Mama
3 - Always finish what you start…including dating. Men, women, whatever. They deserve to be told you want to break up, not through a text or whatever new method there is by then. Be a man, and stand up and do the right thing. Always finish what you start. Just because it is hard does not give you an excuse to quit. If anything, it gives you an excuse to try harder. Baby, life is one series of hard roads after another. You cannot quit just because it is hard. I fought this cancer long enough to give you life – so fight. Fight hard for life and for what you want. Never let someone else tell you that you cannot do it. Prove to them it can be done. Fight and finish. ~ I LOVE YOU, Mama
4- Always trust your instincts. Eventually, this will become second nature to you, but know that you know what’s best for you. Never second-guess yourself. When your heart is in the right place, the right decisions will be made. Always go with your first instinct. Overthinking leads to wrong answers most of the time. Work hard at everything you decide to do with these instincts. Be alert for people who will want to use and abuse you, and don’t let them tarnish you. Your instincts and trust will only mean you will be more perceptive than others and they won’t like that. Don’t let them win. Believe in yourself and in God, and you will end up just fine in the long run. ~Love, Mama
5- No matter what it seems like at the time, life will get better. I can promise you that. ~ Love you, Mama
6- Never go to sleep angry. I know people say this of a spouse all the time, but I say it applies to everyone you know. If you are fighting with a friend or family member, heal that wound before you sleep, before it has the time to fester and grow bigger. Always be the bigger man. Even when you are not at fault, step up, apologize, and fix what is wrong. Be the man I know you are that I know your father and I created. ~ Love Mama
7- Treat women with respect. Always. No always means no. The end. ~ Love Mama
****
My letters go like this for weeks while my belly grows bigger, and I grow more and more tired. I write letters for his first love and first loss; I write a graduation letter and get a present to go with it; I write to him on his first day of college, and the days I know college will be tough and he will need the words of his mother; I write to him for when he meets his soulmate and tell him how to treat her or him; I write letters about grandkids… In the few months I have left, I fill up fifteen books.
I am growing more and more tired and painful, but I am managing. At the end of each day, I ask Ander what he is up to, but he just runs his nose on mine, smelling me, holding my belly and speaking to our son. There is no sex. Ever. I am about to take matters into my own hands at this point, and I haven’t done that since I met Ander.
That night, like usual, I am sleeping alone. Running my hands down my breasts, tweaking and pulling them, before running them over my belly, feeling the growing life inside, I start to take matters into my own hands . I am so horny and I have a husband who isn’t touching me. Touching my folds, I can feel how wet I have become. I am so wet. Running my fingers up and down, I decide to see if I can make myself do what Ander can. I suck on two of my fingers, then stick them in me and curl them. I feel awkward that he knows where my spot is, but I have to search for it. When I finally brush my fingers over a spongy section, I know I have it. I begin to grind my clit into my palm of my hand. The feeling is so intense; I am biting my lip to keep from screaming. I push my fingers harder and faster, finally coming all over the bedspread. It is so amazing, I might be adding it to my nightly ritual. I leave the mess there for Ander to see that, just because I am sick, I’m not broken, and go to take a shower. Tomorrow, I will write books for him.
ANDER
The minute I walk into the room, I can smell her. Her scent is everywhere. She had gotten herself off in our bed? I walk to the bed and run my hand over the comforter. Wet. I smile. Not only had she gotten off, she had squirted. I bend over and run my nose along it. In her pregnancy, something has changed. She is sweeter and more…just more. Not that I would know since I have been working so late. I come home and just crash next to her night after night. And the closer we get to the due date, the closer we get to the treatment date. Now I’m angry. My woman has taken to pleasuring herself. That is my job and I am not here to do it. I am a fucking loser. I tear my clothes off and follow the sound of the shower.
When I enter the shower, the look in her eyes tells me I am not wanted. “Stop!” She throws her hand up at me. “Stop right there. You are not getting into this shower with me, Ander.”
I look at her and see that she has been crying for a long time. Her eyes are puffy and red. I want to reach out and comfort her, but I know my actions for the past few months have lost me that option. Hell, I can’t even talk to my baby at this point. “You are not allowed in this shower with me. You left me. You only come home at night when you know I am already asleep. Why don’t you find somewhere else to sleep? There has to be somewhere closer to the shop. I am sure Wyatt would take you in. You have not been with me since after the doctor’s appointment, so I assume the baby and I are on our own. Don’t worry. I have a life insurance policy that will take care of him. You will never have to worry about this unwanted child showing up at your doorstep. I have Lola here to help me if I need, so I am not alone. Lola is more a parent than you are. In fact, she stepped up and asked to care for him. Yes, Ander, HIM…if you ever cared to ask or noticed the ultrasound on the fucking refrigerator.”
She pauses and I step forward. “NO!” she screams. “DO NOT COME NEAR ME! I trusted you. I gave you everything. You knew there was a chance this could happen, yet you married me like it was no big deal. I believed you. Then it becomes a reality and you run. You FUCKING RUN!” She slaps my chest with both hands over and over. “I told you and you ran the minute it happened. I need you to get out. I will only be alive a few more months, then this house is all yours. Until then, please do me the favor of finding somewhere else to stay. I cannot look at you knowing how much my heart wants you, but knowing all you see is a sick and dying, gross individual. I need you out now. NOW!” She screams the final part. Then quietly, she adds a word that kills me, “Tennyson.”
I slowly walk through the bedroom picking up my clothing as I go. I can’t believe I fucked up so bad. I should have told her what was going on, but she would have just said no. I shoul
d have told her I loved her every night, even when she was asleep, but it is too late for that. I’ve fucked it all up. Did the baby even recognize my voice? I fall to my knees, sobbing and naked, thinking that my child may not know who I am. “What about the baby?” I brokenly ask. She replies that it is taken care of. I silently grab some clean jeans and a shirt and dress while my wife awaits my departure from her life.
The door opens and Lola walks in. If looks could kill, I am pretty sure my own daughter would have just committed murder. I guess I fucked that relationship up, too. She grabs a robe and wraps Leire in it, then helps her to the bed. She looks at me. “You… You are nothing but a liar and a phony just like my mother said. You said you loved this woman, but the minute things get hard, you run. So here is the deal. You just keep running. If you ever come close to us again, we will take precautions to have you taken care of. You are a coward. This woman is brave and strong. She is fighting for her baby, and you should help, but you disappear. So since that is what you are good at, you can stay that way. Disappear and never return. We don’t want you. Her family and I are on the paperwork to raise the baby. You will have no claim. If you should try to claim him, we will use all this as proof you want nothing to do with him. So, Father, you will leave and you will never return.” As she was talking, she had been walking and I, unknowingly, was following, which means I now find myself outside the house. “Goodbye.” And the door shuts. The finality of it crushes what is left of my heart.
I have little time left to do what needs to be done. Maybe if I focus on it and get it done, they will see what I have been doing and accept me. I need them like air. I feel like I am drowning so I do the first thing I can think of and call Wyatt. If he could tell me his truth, I can tell him mine. Then maybe we can work together to come up with a plan.
When I tell Wyatt my story through my tears, he really listens. Then he calls me an ass for not telling Leire what was up in the first place, for letting my ego get the best of me, putting me in this situation. He is so right. I did let my ego rule the situation. I was determined to prove to her that I, and I alone, could solve this problem. Why the fuck did I not bring her in to see the great things people were doing in her name? I was working crazy hours, earning crazy money to pay for this treatment, and we are almost there.
When we came back from the doctor’s office, an idea formed in my mind and I knew I could raise the money. Stars and athletes come from all over to get tattooed by me, and I was sure I could get them to come again and help me raise the money. Why didn’t I just tell her my idea? Why was I so set on surprising her with the money for the treatment? Why couldn’t she see the people loving and supporting her? Why am I so fucked up? I tell Wyatt I need to sleep at his place while I get this figured out, and he has no problem opening his doors for me. I walk into his place, curl up on the couch, and proceed to cry myself to sleep.
When I wake, I sit and come up with a plan. We are almost there. Maybe three more days, then I will bring her down to the shop, only it will look different. It will have all the famous people who supported her, it will have a sign, and it will have all the information on her cancer so we can hand them out and help spread awareness. I’m feeling much better with a plan in place, then I realize that the only clothes I have are the ones I wore yesterday and slept in. I sure hope Wyatt has some larger clothes because there is no way we are the same size. I look up when I hear shuffling. Wyatt comes in and drops a box on the couch, setting a mug of coffee on the table. “Apparently, the girls still care enough that they don’t want you walking around nude. On the other hand, it wouldn’t bother me.” He smirks, winking.
“Hey! Does that mean I’m not hot? I thought I was a universal hotness, but now you’re telling me I’m not? I’m not sure I can take that.” I look at my coffee. Perfect.
He smiles. “Ander, you are hot, universally hot. But, dude, you are more like my brother than my lover. Can your ego deal with that, princess?” Smiling, he walks out to get dressed.
Laughing, I open the box. I’m secretly hoping for a note, but find nothing but clothes. However, this is not going to get me down. I dress, then Wyatt and I head to work. I tell everybody we have three days to raise every last penny and they get down to work. I also make a few calls and have some pretty famous people on board. All in all, we are covered. The funds, all but the final amount, have been met and are in the doctor’s hands, and the brochures are made. All I need to do is get everyone in one place to show her the support she has. In all this time, with everyone’s hard work and with the support of a community of people who are drawn together simply by the fact that they share a love of art, we have raised almost 1.5 million dollars. The doctor assures that this should be enough to cover all contingencies.
Doing my current tattoo, I sit and let the peacefulness of the motions take me away from my troubles for a while. When I am finished, I have an idea. “WYATT!!!” I yell. He comes running. “Do you have any time for more ink?”
He glances at the clock. “Well, seeing as we’re closing soon and you’re staying at my house, I have all the time in the world.”
“Sweet!” I yell as I hug him. He seems startled. “Wyatt, just because you tell me you like dudes, it doesn’t mean our relationship changes at all, okay? I will still hug you, just like we’ve always done. And if you get a booboo and need a kiss, I am up for that duty, too.” I smirk.
He punches my shoulder, as tears overflow. He nods and throws an arm around me. “How did I get you as my best friend?”
“You’re just lucky!” He laughs. “Now, can you tattoo me or what?”
“What do you want, you crazy ass?”
“I want you to do sea stones – smooth stones with waves running back from them. It needs to be black-and-white and perfect. Leire is my sea stone and I am hers. The pressures of life smoothed our edges, just like the power of water. This is our tattoo. Can you make something like that?”
He looks into space, as he often does while he is thinking, then moves to the light box. “This might take us two nights. You good with that?”
“As long as it is ready by the time we reveal all of this.”
He nods and begins drawing the images in his head. Wyatt is amazing. If I am the best, Wyatt is a very close second. He is the only one I trust to tattoo my body.
While he draws, I clean the shop and send Cora home. When I finally get the shop clean and set up for the final day of fundraising tomorrow, Wyatt is ready for me. When he shows me the piece, I know that is it. “It’s perfect, Wy. Thank you.” I lie on the tattoo table and show him where I want it placed…over my heart. He cleans the area and gets to work. DAMN! That hurts! I need to focus on something else.
Leire, my beautiful woman, takes my mind off everything. I imagine the baby being delivered and the treatment working. Then I imagine us as a family, our child in the swing while we push him. Taking walks in the park. Before I know it, Wyatt is cleaning me up and telling me I am done for the night and that he will add the effects and shading tomorrow. I nod and thank him as we re-clean his room and close up the shop.
The second night at Wyatt’s house is worse. The sheets don’t smell like her, and she is missing from my arms. I really fucked up, but I am going to make this right. I take some Tylenol PM, finally falling asleep with her face on my mind.
The next day goes perfectly. We meet more than the amount needed, then set up a fund for people in Leire’s situation so that no mom has to choose between herself and her child. It is called Leire’s Life and, so far, it is already helping women around the nation. I couldn’t be more proud. Some of the people involved agree to come back one last day to show Leire what we have been up to, and we all leave with high hearts. I lock up for the night, check the banner and the notes about flower and balloon delivery, then leave. One more night… I can do this.
LEIRE
Writing books and letters to my son came easy. Writing to my husband is hard…especially when I am pissed at him. I finally settle on
writing him one letter about our relationship and leave it at that. I hide the books for the baby around where they will be found when it is time, hiding the letters inside of them. I hide the letter to Ander in my makeup box, thinking he will never look in there and I can give it to him when the time comes.
Today I have yet another appointment with the doctor. I face more and more coldness from the staff every time Ander is not with me. The doctor informs me we are within delivery time. When he asks for a date, where the dad is, and when we will begin treatment, I tell him I will have to get back to him. I want Ander to see the baby born, even if he has nothing to do with his life. After Brittany, he deserves to be there for that. However, I don’t know how to tell the doctor that I can’t afford the treatment. Even with grants and all the help people are willing to give me, it comes nowhere near what I am going to need.
When I get home, I leave Ander a message requesting he meet with me tomorrow to talk about the baby. Then, exhausted, I take a nap.
Feeling something touch my shoulder, I wake up, startled, and look at the clock. It’s the next morning? Looking around, I see Ander standing there. “What are you doing here, Ander?”
“You left me a message. Plus, I heard from the doctor that the baby is ready, so I have something to show you.” The look in his eyes wins me over. No matter what he does, my stupid heart still loves him.
“Okay,” I whisper. He helps me and my belly up and to the shower. “Out, Ander!”
He smiles and backs up as I shut the door. Man, I am a mess. I shower and shave what I can reach. This pregnancy is really getting in the way, and I am not going to have my baby with hairy legs or crotch. I look down and try to see over my belly. Okay, maybe I was a bit hasty in kicking him out. Maybe I do need him. “Ander? Can you come help me?” He walks in like he was standing right outside the door. “Um…I can’t reach to shave. When I left the message yesterday, it was to tell you that we are having the baby this afternoon. So…surprise! Can you help me shave?” He stood still. “Um, hello? Its soap and water. I am pretty sure you have done it to your face before.” Still no movement. “Ander…” I reach forward and grab his face. “Are you in there?”
One More Breath Page 16
