Give Me A Reason

by Jennifer Miller

  “Alright. I’ll make a note to check in with her while you’re away just in case.”

  Standing, I nod, “Thanks, Nate. I really appreciate it.”

  “No need to thank me. You work hard around here; your lack of vacations makes us all look bad. Frankly, I’m relieved. I’ll feel less guilty the next time I want to take off myself. So go, get the hell out of here.”

  “Fair enough,” I respond with a laugh.

  Quickly, I duck back into my office to get my purse, then I stop to tell Kate about my plans and ask her to pull a few accounts that she may need to deal with in my absence if they should contact her.

  Finally leaving, I head out to get a quick bite of lunch so I can return to the office and spend the rest of the day getting things organized for my absence. Simultaneously, I can’t help but wonder what exactly I’m thinking by agreeing to this trip yet feeling excited at the same time. It’s very spontaneous and while that’s not generally the way I do things, the truth is I think it’s exactly what I need right now.

  Several hours later I’m waiting for Oliver to arrive with dinner. While waiting I scroll through my favorite clothing websites looking at swimsuits and anything else that I may want to pick up while absently petting Meatball. It’s been a while since I’ve bought myself something new, now seems as good a time as any.

  When a knock sounds at the door, I’m barely standing before Oliver lets himself in. “Dinner has arrived,” he kicks the door closed behind him and puts the bag of food down on the kitchen table. Meatball immediately jumps off my lap and makes a beeline for him crying at his feet for attention. Before I’m in the kitchen myself Oliver’s already grabbed paper plates and napkins and is fishing out a treat to give Meatball.

  “Smells good.” When he passes me, he smacks a kiss on my cheek making me grin at his enthusiasm. It’s nice and pushes away the gloom that’s ever present in the back of my mind. Grabbing his favorite soda from the refrigerator that I always manage to keep stocked just in case he stops by, I take a bottle of water for myself and join him at the table.

  As he begins opening cartons of food he looks at me, “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. How did it go when you told Nate about taking the week off?”

  “Actually, it was great. He said it’s about time I use some vacation time. Said it will make him feel less guilty about using his own.”

  “Great. I knew it would work out.”

  “You did, huh?”

  “Of course.” He uses his chopsticks to shove noodles into his mouth straight from the carton and I wonder why he even bothered to grab a plate.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now? What is it you have planned?”

  “Hmm…” he chews thoughtfully while considering my question. I quietly eat my sweet and sour chicken while he annoys me with whatever it is he’s taking forever to decide.

  “Seriously?” I grow impatient.

  Clearly he can read my mind, “You’re so impatient.”

  “Duh. It’s like you don’t even know me.”

  He smiles and it makes the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle. I love it. He has the most fascinating eyes. One is light blue but the other is a light green. It’s striking and at first glance you don’t notice, the color difference is so slight. When you look closer you can see the shade difference. He hates them of course, but I find them special in their uniqueness.

  One time a guy at school that clearly didn’t care if he had to start eating his meals through a straw actually said to Oliver that only dogs ever have two different colored eyes. That boy became the biggest laughing stock in our school due to the huge bruise he received on his jaw – from a girl. Me. I’d never been so angry. The look on Oliver’s face after I punched the kid is something I’ll never forget. He took one look at my bruising fingers and then punched the kid too. Not for making fun of him, but for hurting my hand. Good thing Oliver had taught me how to throw a punch or I would have broken my hand or a finger.

  No one ever dared make fun of him again. Girls loved his eyes anyway and really, that’s the only reason boys would ever dare to say something to him. They were jealous. Because Oliver got all the girls – he always has.

  “How about this,” he interrupts my thoughts, “I’ll tell you where we are going so you know what to pack and plan, but as far as the details I’ll keep them to myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of a surprise?”

  “You know I don’t like surprises.”

  “You don’t like bad surprises. Everyone likes good surprises.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Besides, when is the last time someone gave you a good surprise?”

  “A long time.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Alright, fine.”

  “Yes!” he says like he won something pumping his fist into the air.

  “You’re a dork. Tell me where we’re going.”

  “We’re going to the beach, woman! Just like you said you wanted.”

  Shaking my head I point at him with my fork – no chopsticks for me, “You know I don’t mean that – I already figured that much. The beach, where?”

  “I’m taking you to Hawaii.”

  I drop my fork, but he just smiles and keeps talking, “We’ll fly out Saturday. Since it was last minute, I did the best I could. The travel agent got a good deal. So, we’re going to Oahu and we will stay at the five-star Kahlia Hotel & Resort. I already made our reservations and everything. All you have to do is pack and look gorgeous.”

  “Hawaii? Five-star resort?” I know I have to look ridiculous given the way I’m staring at him, but I can’t help it.

  “I did good, right?” He’s smiling with so much arrogance all I can do is blink at him.

  “I figured we would go to Florida or something, not freaking Hawaii. What can I do to help? What do I owe for my part? I’ll write you a check right now,” I stand to get it from my desk my mind swimming with surprise and excitement. I’ve never even been out of Idaho. I’ve had traveling on my list of reasons for ages, I’ve just not done it yet.

  “I handled all of it. Don’t worry.”

  “Thank you for handling the planning,” I grab my checkbook and a pen and then rejoin him at the table. “What’s the amount?”

  His hand covers mine, “Nothing.”

  “What?”

  “I want to do this,” he says softly making me look from my hands straight into those beautiful eyes of his. “Let me do this, okay?”

  At first I soften, but then the thoughts I’ve kept at bay slam forward with such force I almost gaps. “I don’t want to be pitied,” my voice hardens and my hands tighten into fists.

  “That’s not what this is.”

  “That’s exactly what this is. Come on, Oliver. Other than our monthly dinners I’ve barely seen you in months. Now, all of the sudden you find out I have cancer and we’re going to Hawaii together? If this isn’t pity or you trying to soothe your misguided guilt, what is it? I’ve been doing just fine with the time you’ve been kind enough to spare for me, I’ll continue doing just fine without this.”

  When Oliver suddenly stands knocking over his chair, I jump and Meatball runs away to take cover. Oliver leans forward placing his hands on the edge of the table. His eyes are so fierce I think they’d shoot fire if they could. “Tell you what, sunshine, why don’t you just tell me how it is you want me to act then. Tell me what you want me to say or not say, do or not do. Otherwise, I can’t win here.”

  “That’s not what-”

  “Yes it is. I mean hell, you won’t discuss getting a second opinion. Won’t discuss a treatment plan right now, if at all. As if that’s not hard enough now I’m messing up trying to make fun plans, something to do to make up for time we haven’t spent together, which by the way, the phone works both ways. I don’t recall getting a phone call from you asking me to get together or hang out. How many times have I called and asked you to do
something and you were too busy? If I didn’t insist on our dinners, I would never see you so don’t put that on me.”

  “But-” I try to interrupt again but he’s not having it. He just speaks over me.

  “So, I beg you, please, tell me how to win here. All I want to do is go away with my best friend because I miss her and because I’m scared. I’m fucking scared, Remy. I’ve been in a tailspin since yesterday. I feel completely out of control with all of this – helpless. I’ve barely had time to process any of it myself, but this… this trip… this is something I can do. Something I can handle. Something I can control. It’s not pity. It’s letting me feel like I’m doing something right now since you’re castrating me as far as anything else.” His face is red and his hands are on his hips. He’s looking down at the floor and his feelings of frustration and desperation are palpable.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I stand from my own seat and move to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I feel his whole body exhale and sink into mine. “Forgive me,” I whisper.

  “Only if you let me do this, okay? I just want to take you away for a week, have some fun, get our minds on something else, go to the beach like you’ve always wanted, okay? At least I can do that.”

  “Okay,” my voice sounds brittle and weak. Squeezing him one last time I move away, “So, I think shopping is in order. I’m thinking you’re right. A new swimsuit, or two, is exactly what I need,” I smile offering a change of conversation as my peace offering.

  “Good. I think you should get right on that.”

  We sit back down at the table and continue eating our meal. We laugh and talk about the sunscreen we need to buy and I tell him that I think along with my new swimsuit I’d like to get a sun hat as well. Silly conversation, but while we talk I watch those eyes I love fill with mirth, watch as the dimple in his left cheek winks at me when he speaks. I savor the familiar sight of him running his hand through his dark hair and enjoy the comfort his presence brings. It makes me realize how much I’ve missed him. It makes me wonder if I’ll still miss him even after I’m gone.

  Going on a last-minute trip makes it difficult to complete the long list of tasks needing to be completed. First, I need to arrange care for Meatball with my neighbor, then I need to arrange to have my mail held during my absence, definitely clean out my refrigerator and shop for some needed new things - priority on the shopping. Last night I looked through my closet in an attempt to make do with some of the clothes and accessories I already have, but that was a bust. A shopping trip for more than just a swimsuit is definitely in order. Feeling overwhelmed, making a list of each task to cross out as I go eases some of the anxiety I’m feeling.

  Now, here at the mall, I decide to splurge a bit. Not only do I find a new swimsuit, but I find a cute cover-up and flip flops that coordinate nicely. I also find the cute sun hat I pictured myself wearing on the beach, some new lace up sandals, sunglasses, a beach towel and a few sundresses too.

  Shopping bag in hand and not feeling any purchase regret – at least not yet - I near the trendy hair salon I’ve always been curious about and this time instead of continuing on my way, I go inside on a whim. There’s a tall, black granite front desk situated immediately through their doors and a large glass wall behind it with water falling down. Salon chairs are located behind the wall and the sounds of chatter and running blow dryers meet my ears while the chemicals in the air make my nose tingle. A blonde woman smiles at me and holds up one finger indicating that I should wait a moment. There are several glass shelves on either side of the salon full of bottle after bottle of hair care products. I wonder how long it would take someone to try each one?

  “Hi there! Welcome to Francesca’s Salon and Spa. How can I help you?”

  The woman’s nametag says Rachel and she beckons me forward. “Hi, I know it’s a long shot, but I was walking by and thought I’d take a chance and see if there are any openings to get my hair done.”

  “What services were you wanting to receive?”

  “A cut, color and style if there’s time available. If not, just a cut and style is fine.”

  She types on the computer and clicks around a bit, “It’s your lucky day! That phone call was a very last minute cancellation and it looks like that time slot will work perfectly for all you’d like to do. You’ll be seeing Sarah; she’s one of our best master stylists. If you can spare time right now, the spot is yours.”

  “That would be great, thank you.”

  Before I know it I’m sitting in the stylist chair, black cape in place, with my new hairdresser friend Sarah combing through my hair and asking me what I’d like done.

  My hair has been long for a few years now. I like it long and down my back - always have. I was blessed with full hair that’s not too thin but not too thick either. But, I’m ready for a change. I answer out loud, partly still processing my thoughts. “I think I’d like something different. To cut more off than I usually prefer.” My words partly shock me. I must really be feeling brave trusting a new hairdresser to do this, but what the hell? Looking at myself in the mirror I grin when I show her where I’d like my hair to land. Plus, my hair has been a dirty blonde for a while with some highlights; I think I’d like to lighten it up even more. When I’ve finished talking I tentatively ask, “Can we do that?”

  “We can,” she combs through my hair some more. “Let’s discuss the cut.”

  She gives me some various suggestions and once I’ve decided, she pauses, “You know, we’re going to cut off enough hair that there’d be enough inches to donate it.”

  “Donate it?” My voice catches in my throat.

  “Yes. One donation place doesn’t like to take color treated hair like yours and the inch requirement is quite long, but there are plenty of other places that will take color treated hair of less inches. Would that be okay?”

  Images of women, like my mother, that have lost their hair due to chemotherapy treatments pop into my head. I remember a woman that was always at chemotherapy with my mom. Her name was Sharon. She had a different wig each time we saw her. I loved it and complimented her wondering how many in total she had. She enjoyed showing off her new acquisitions. “Yes,” I nod feeling my throat tighten and voice tremble with emotion. “I’d like to do that very much.”

  “Great! Let me go back and mix some color. I’m going to dry cut you to take the donation length off when I return before I put the color on. In the mean time, can I get you a magazine? Something to drink – cucumber water, juice, a soft drink?”

  “No, thank you,” I tell her and instead take out my phone and pull up my reading app intending to lose myself in a new romantic comedy that looks promising. I’m a sucker for a good book.

  A few hours later, my hair is shorter and quite lighter. “Wow, this color looks great on you. Makes your eyes pop!” Sarah holds up a mirror for me to admire the back of my hair from all angles. She suggested and I readily agreed for her to add some layers and give me a side bang. It looks nice and has shape to it. It’s a cut with a sassy personality now as opposed to just one layer of boring sag like I had before.

  “I love it, thank you so much,” I smile ear to ear.

  “You’re welcome, doll.”

  Leaving the salon I laugh at myself as I realize I’m holding my head a little higher. It’s funny what a difference something as simple as a great haircut can do for one’s attitude. Clearly, I’m feeling good about myself right now. I like it.

  Popping into one of my favorite stores, I browse and covet several dresses and outfits and select a few to try on. It’s when I’m walking to the dressing room to try them on that a bikini catches my attention. It’s black with teal polka dots. Sure, it’s a bit skimpier than the one I wore when I was younger, but how can I resist it after Oliver’s comment the other day? Smiling to myself, I grab it and take it with me to the dressing room feeling ridiculously excited as I imagine the look on his face when he sees it.

  The dresses all fit pe
rfectly which makes the decision about which ones to purchase difficult, but I decide on a spaghetti strapped white sundress that hits just above my knees. The best part is the eyelet detail all along the bottom. The second has spaghetti straps as well but is a maxi dress that falls to my feet. It’s teal, which means if I get some color it will look gorgeous against my tan skin. The top and bottom has what looks like water colored print feathers that are large and pressed into the fabric in colors of fuchsia, sea blue and white. The low plunge makes my breasts look nice which angers me slightly – I feel like the traitorous things don’t have the right. Turning away from the mirror, I slip the dress off and try on the bikini. It looks good, really good. It’s pretty skimpy, but not at all indecent. I don’t feel uncomfortable and did I mention I look good? I actually laugh out loud as I try to convince myself and do a little twirl in front of the mirror. “You’re not looking half bad either,” I tell my butt and laugh more.

  “How’s it going in there?” The sales lady startles me and I feel a little embarrassed knowing she probably heard me talking to myself. Oh well.

  “It’s great, thank you.”

  “I saw the cute bikini you grabbed. Did you see the sheer black cover up hanging next to it? They would look great together.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Of course she already has it in her hand and offers it to me over the top of the door. I try it on over the top of the suit. Closing my eyes I can picture myself walking along the shore wearing this. I wonder what the sand will feel like between my toes. Is the ocean really as blue as pictures make it look? Will the sunset be just as magnificent as what I’ve seen in shows, magazines and on TV? I can’t believe I’m going to get to find out. The cover up gets added to the pile and before I check out I also grab a few pieces of jewelry that are cute as well.

  Shopping bags in tow I have a huge smile on my face as I swing them at my sides intending to get something to eat from the food court. All this shopping has made me hungry.

  I’m almost there when a gentleman standing next to a kiosk in the middle of the mall approaches me with a pump of something in his hand? “May I?” he asks.