“I understand, but time is of the essence. It’s important that you take action sooner than later. Starting with a second opinion.” I sit on the couch and he begins pacing between my desk and the couch and I watch him as he goes back and forth. Suddenly stopping he takes something from my desk and when he turns I see my notebook in his hand. “You have your lists out,” he says looking down at the words ‘My Reasons’ spelled out in glitter on the cover.
“Yeah,” I manage a smile. “I was cleaning out my desk earlier and came across it. I haven’t looked at it in several months and I couldn’t help but pull it out and flip through.”
Moving to the couch he sits beside me. Placing the notebook on his knees gently he runs his fingers over the words like I did earlier. He knows it’s one of my most treasured possessions. He’s seen the notes it contains, knew of my mom’s list affinity and even made a few special lists with her himself.
“Maybe we need to make a list now,” he suggests quietly with a wistful smile. “All the next steps to take in this process. It’s something your mom would have done. Probably did do. Maybe it would help.”
Taking the notebook from him, I turn to the last page and read the last list I made not long ago. An updated reasons list – things I want to do. Reading down the list I smile at some of the ridiculous things I wrote. Do something crazy for once in your life - something like participating in a protest where you get arrested – to – Finally see the ocean and put your toes in the sand. That was something on my mom’s list. Take a walk on the beach and see the vastness of the ocean, she had written. Neither of us ever seeing it before it became a dream. One we never got to realize before she passed away and I’ll regret it until my last breath. My face falls with the memory and I feel a twist in my chest. I miss my mom. Sometimes I miss her so much it makes my whole body ache. How do you get used to the loss of someone that wasn’t just your mother, but your best friend and your confidant?
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I sigh and shake my head. I barely notice when Oliver takes the notebook from my hands again. Standing, I find myself looking out my window – not because I really want to look outside but because I need the movement. I can’t stop thinking about my list again, and my mom’s. With a sigh, I realize that I’m utterly exhausted. I’m certain I wouldn’t have a problem falling asleep now if I tried.
A laugh interrupts my thoughts and I turn away from the window only to jump a little in surprise. Oliver is standing right behind me and I didn’t even hear him move. Taking a moment to admire the view I enjoy how he looks in what clearly started off as a three-piece suit. His suit jacket is missing, but he’s still wearing pin striped black slacks and black shoes. His starched white shirt hiding what I know is a well-defined chest and stomach is unbuttoned at the neck and his silver tie is loosened. His dark hair is disheveled from running his hands through it during our conversation. It’s longer than I’ve seen it in a while and I find that I like it. His chiseled jaw line is ridiculously attractive and his cheekbones should be illegal on a man. “I didn’t know you wanted a tattoo or a piercing. A piercing where, exactly?”
Those eyes of his that I love are twinkling and I want to smile, but instead I smirk and place my hands on my hips, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yes, yes I would,” he laughs. “Just promise me I can be there when you get it done. It’s a must.”
“Why’s that?”
“To hold your hand while you scream, of course,” he says with a laugh making me roll my eyes. His laugh falls away and he touches the beauty mark above my lip with his fingertip like he’s done for years. When we were young he thought that I had dirt on my lip and tried to wipe it off. He’s teased me about it ever since which doesn’t make sense really since he’s the one that couldn’t tell a small mole from dirt.
“What were you thinking about when you were at the window? Your face was sad and very serious.”
“I was thinking about those stupid lists,” I almost gasp at my words. They feel like a betrayal to think them and I’ve never dared to say them out loud. I’ve thought them before, sure. I was angry when my mom died, angry that she was robbed of so much time. I think in part I’m afraid she might be able to hear me from heaven. Silly, I know, but even the thought now of hurting her feelings is more than I can handle.
As if he can read my mind Oliver says, “They aren’t stupid.”
“Aren’t they?”
“How can you say that? What you’re going through right now is exactly why this list was created – exactly what you need. To give you a reason when you need one, remember?”
“Of course I remember, but they aren’t realistic. I know that now. It’s just something my dreamer of a mother concocted. It’s sweet and fun and I loved that she loved it, but sometimes I think that instead of a list of reasons it’s a list of potential regrets.”
“No, never regrets. Few people get the opportunity to do everything that they dream about. If we’re lucky we get to catch a few of them, but I think we’re not always supposed to catch them. Sometimes I think the magic with dreams is the journey to getting there and that can be more profound than the dream itself.”
“Wow, Oliver Gentry. My mother would have swooned at those words.”
He smiles, “Maybe. But are you? I think I’d like to make you swoon Remy Sinclair.”
“There may have been a mini-swoon.”
“Ah, a challenge,” he smirks. He looks away from me and I can see the wheels turning. His smirk becomes a full-fledged smile that immediately makes me leery. “Oh no, what are you concocting?”
“Let’s do it.”
“Do what?”
“Tell me. If there is one thing on your list that you would do right now if there was nothing holding you back, what would it be?”
“Why?”
He rolls his eyes and it almost makes me laugh, “Just answer me, sunshine. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”
“Nothing holding me back?”
“Nothing. Not finances, work, logistics – nothing.”
“If I could do anything right now, I’d want to go to the beach. I want to swim in the ocean, feel the sand under my feet and the sun on my face. Just like my mom and I always talked about doing.”
“I thought that’s what you’d say. So, let’s do it. I know you’ve never seen the ocean before, so let’s catch that dream. Together.”
Against my better judgment excitement makes tiny flutters in my belly, but there’s no way he’s serious. No way that he would or could go away with me. There’s work and of course his girlfriend. I shake my head, “Very funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
The look on his face certainly lacks humor. Crossing my arms I frown, “When? How?” He raises one brow in silent question; a skill I’ve never mastered but envy.
“When would you want to go?” he challenges.
I surprise myself by blurting, “Now. I’d leave now if I could.”
His face registers surprise, “Now? I like it, but that won’t work.”
“See!” I throw my arms up in the air and then regret it knowing I look like a child. I guess I don’t regret it that much because I still manage to say, “I told you so.”
“We need to see what treatment you need first and get started on that. Then we can ask the doctor how soon after that you can get away.” My face falls and the hope that was stirring in my belly turns sour. “Don’t look like that, sunshine. You have to know that’s my first priority. It’s important.”
“Is it wrong that I want to take some time to process this? Or take some days where I don’t have to think about it at all?”
“The sooner you begin treatment, the sooner-”
“I don’t know if I want treatment!” I blurt out. I didn’t intend to yell it, but there it is, the truth finally spoken out loud.
“What?” He’s becomes still; the only movement from his eyes as they track me while I take the
notebook to my desk and put it back inside the drawer. I never should have taken it out and gone through it to begin with. No good comes from remembering. Before I turn back to look at him, I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for how I know he will feel about this.
“I don’t know if I want treatment. I haven’t decided. I thought maybe you’d read between the lines when I was talking earlier about my mom. But, I’m considering that as an option. I need to think about it.”
“That’s not an option,” he says.
“Yes, it absolutely is,” I state firmly.
“Why?” he whispers and his voice falters. “Why would you choose that?”
“You know why. I don’t want to take chemo and radiation and get sick. I’d have no energy, be sick every day, lose all my hair, or become a shell of the person I used to be.”
“If that’s what it takes, Remy, then so be it.”
“My mom was desperate to give herself another week, another month, another day and sure, it worked for a little while – emphasis on little. But like I said before and as you very well know, she died anyway. It came back and took her in the end. All that time, all those days lost when she could have been living her life and crossing items off her damn list.”
“Like I said, you don’t know that it will be the same for you!”
“Yes, I do! And I will not lose my life emotionally and mentally before I lose it physically. I will not. I watched her do that and it was awful.”
“Remy-”
“Oliver. I don’t want to argue about this with you. Please.”
He’s quiet and continues to watch me. “Fine. I’ll drop it for now, but we are not done with this conversation,” he tells me firmly. I nod knowing he will absolutely bring it up again and even understand his desire to do so. For now, I will take this victory and happily drop the subject.
Walking to me he takes me in his arms and holds me tight. My throat closes and my eyes burn. I didn’t realize how much I needed to be held. I revel in it and hug him back just barely refraining from squeezing him as tightly as I’d like to. Emotions rush through me quickly and it’s impossible to decipher all of them, so I ignore them for now.
Pulling away from me a little, he smiles. “I’m going to go, but get some rest. I’ll be back here tomorrow with our travel information.”
Dropping my arms and stepping back I look at him in confusion, “What are you talking about?”
“The beach. You said you wanted to go now, right?”
“Yeah, but, I didn’t mean-”
“We’re going. We are going to cash in on that reason, Remy. The two of us together, just like I said, okay?”
I nod because that’s all I can manage at the moment.
“Besides, it’s the perfect chance.”
“Perfect chance?” I don’t understand his meaning.
“To change your mind about treatment. To show you all there is to live for. I plan on giving you some reasons of my own.”
With that, he kisses me on the forehead and walks out.
My day is sucking harder than college kids suck a lime when they’re doing tequila shots. Normally I can lose myself in the numbers and monotony of working on my client’s accounts. Not today. Today my mind volleys between the fact I have cancer and the perplexing comment from Oliver before he left last night. I become even more confused when I receive a call from him just before lunch.
“Hello?”
“Remember when we were in high school and you had that yellow bikini with the pink dots on it? You wore it at Chris Henson’s end of summer pool party one year.”
I pause for a moment taken off guard. When my brain catches up, I laugh, “Yes, I remember. You hated that thing. As soon as I walked out of the house I took my cover up off to get into the pool and you ran to me with a towel yelling at me to put some clothes on.”
“We were there with the whole football team! I shared a locker room with those guys! I did not want to hear the shit they would say after they saw you looking like that.”
“Looking like what, exactly?”
“All legs, Remy… all legs and a whole lot of skin.”
“Yeah well, you should have known better than to think I would listen to you.”
“I think I would have been disappointed if you had. That party was horrible. I spent the whole time glaring at anyone that looked at you for too long.”
“You were and still are too over protective.”
“There’s no such thing.” I sigh and he chuckles on the other end of the line and I realize I’m smiling ear to ear. “Do you still have that swimsuit?”
“No, that was so long ago,” I laugh. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to need to pack one in your suitcase. Or get yourself a new one. Hell, get yourself two or three.”
“Care to tell me what you mean by that?”
“I mean, the plans have been arranged, we are going to the beach so pack a suit and sunblock.”
“Care to tell me where exactly we’re going?”
“Nope,” he says and laughs full out this time. The sound is carefree and happy and it makes me giggle. When is the last time I’ve giggled? I don’t even know. It feels good. “I’ll explain tonight, I promise. Until then, I have another question.”
“Okay.”
“How mad will Nate be when you tell him you’re taking time off?”
“I don’t think he’ll be angry at all. At least, I don’t think so. I haven’t taken vacation time in ages and he’s actually told me I need to take a vacation. And the time is as good as it gets, workload-wise, I guess.”
“Well that’s good.”
“Why? What days are you looking at heading out of town? That way I’ll know when to submit my request.”
“Today.”
“Today?”
“Yep, tell him today. Tell him you’ll be gone all next week.” Pure glee leaks through his words, it’s evident in the sound of his voice.
“Next week? You just booked it without asking? That’s hardly any notice at all!”
“No it’s not,” he states with no apology whatsoever.
“Well, crap.”
“Maybe this is a good time to remind you that you’re a partner. I seriously doubt you’ll have a problem.”
“Well, I don’t know that for sure. I still want to run it by Nate.”
“Naturally.”
“How are you going to manage that yourself, Mr. Big Shot?”
“That’s the beauty of being a partner,” he tells me. “Plenty of other attorneys that can handle anything while I’m gone – just like your assistant can handle anything for you.”
“That’s true. My work is all caught up and anything that comes up, well, that’s why I have an assistant. To handle things when needed.” I know I’m trying to convince myself this is okay. I know it will be, but I guess I’m proving that I do in fact need a vacation - workaholic, much?
“Exactly. So, no worries, sunshine.”
“Okay. If you say so.”
“I do. This is happening. Go talk to Nate and I’ll see you tonight. I’ll bring Chinese food for dinner. Sound good?”
“That sounds great, actually.”
“Great. See you later. Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“I definitely didn’t hate that bikini. Not at all.” I swear I can picture the smile on his face as his husky laugh cuts off when he disconnects our call. It takes me a moment to hang up and when I do I sit there for a moment letting his words sink in further. They leave a warm feeling low in my belly and I revel in it for a moment.
I’m startled out of my thoughts when my phone begins ringing again and I see the name and number for my doctor’s office on the screen. Not ready or willing to speak to anyone right now, I press the button to send the call to voicemail and leave my office to go tell my partner about the time off I’m apparently taking.
Wringing my hands on the way, I try to imagine how this conversation is
going to go over. Suddenly, I stop in the hallway altogether. This is silly to be worrying about what Nate is going to say. I want to be professional, and that’s important, but I’m certainly not going to take no for an answer either. My time isn’t exactly something I care to argue over.
Knocking on his door I wait for permission to enter. To my surprise the door opens and I find Nate standing there with a smile. Automatically returning it, I ask, “Can I have a minute?”
“Remy, hi, of course. Come on in,” he gestures into the room and I do as requested.
Sitting in the chair across from his desk I wait for him to take a seat. I’ve worked for Harrison & Partners Accounting for five years now, not long after I lost my mom. The timing was perfect because I needed something to bury myself in to keep busy. I worked long and I worked hard, which is why I made partner in three short years. My job may not be glamorous but I enjoy it, have a long and faithful client list, get paid well and am left alone to do my job. Nate is the Senior Partner at the firm, so my boss, technically, but he treats me more like a peer, a colleague. “Thanks.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Well, I wanted to let you know that I’m going to be taking some paid time off on the calendar and the reason I’m informing you is because it’s sudden.” I hesitate briefly, “Next week to be exact.”
“Oh? Is everything okay?” I understand why he’s asking – this is out of character for me, but it’s a loaded question right now and for a brief moment I feel bad for lying.
“Everything’s great. I just had something unexpected come up and will be leaving town for a week.”
The look of concern on his face remains, but he says kindly, “That’s no problem. If there’s anything I can help look after while you’re away, let me know.”
“Thank you, but I’ve got a good handle on my accounts. There shouldn’t be anything that Kate can’t handle,” I refer to my assistant.
Give Me A Reason Page 4
