Presently Perfect (Perfect #3)

by Alison G. Bailey

  On our way home, Tweet texted her parents, Emily, and my mom, asking everyone to meet at our place that afternoon. They all knew Tweet had her doctor’s appointment today, so each dropped what they were doing in order to make it over.

  Tweet sat on the sofa, flanked by her mom and Emily. Mr. Kelly stood off to the side. He was already nervous, fidgeting with his watch as he shifted from foot to foot. Mom was in the chair directly across from Tweet. I leaned back against the wall close to the entryway.

  Tweet amazed me, holding it together, as she made the announcement. “There’s no easy way to tell y’all. My cancer is back.”

  A combination of gasps and sobs filled the room. Mr. Kelly was the exception. My entire life, I had never heard the man use a curse word. But in that moment, under his breath, he murmured, “Fuck.”

  “What did the doctor say, sweetheart?” Mrs. Kelly choked out, draping her arm around Tweet’s shoulders.

  “He recommends the same treatment.”

  “And what about the baby?” Mom asked.

  “The baby more than likely would not survive the chemo.”

  Emily’s hand covered Tweet’s.

  “I won’t be going through chemo until after the baby is born.”

  All eyes were glued on Tweet.

  Emily was the first to break the stunned silence. “Manda, that’s pretty risky.”

  “I know, but Noah and I weighed out our options. And that’s our decision.”

  Options were great to have except when they all sucked.

  Clearing my throat caused Tweet’s gaze to meet mine. “I’ll be back in a little while, okay?”

  Tweet simply nodded in understanding.

  I had changed into sweat pants, a T-shirt, and Nikes before everyone showed up. I walked toward the door, snatching my keys off of the entryway table. Wrapping my fingers around the doorknob, I started to twist it when Mom’s voice stopped me.

  “Noah, where are you going?”

  “I gotta get out of here.”

  “For what? Amanda needs you and…”

  “Mom, please.”

  I turned on my heels and walked out the door.

  I got in my truck and drove to Folly Beach. It was the end of the off season, right before tourists flocked into town. I knew the beach would be deserted, especially late afternoon. Right now I needed deserted. My mind stayed numb the entire drive, focusing only on the road. Parking my truck at the northeast end of the beach, I got out, and made my trek in the direction of the Morris Island Lighthouse.

  I concentrated on the waves rolling onto the shore while keeping my steps at a steady normal pace. The last few hours played like snapshots in my head.

  “Suspicious spots on x-ray.”

  “Blood work indicates the cancer is back.”

  “Baby at extremely high risk.”

  “Noah, this disease has taken so much, we can’t let it take our baby.”

  Once they started, I couldn’t stop the thought invasion. The feel of burning lungs, pounding heart, and dripping sweat broke through the numbness. My steady pace had turned into a full-out run, hurling myself down the beach in an attempt to escape the thoughts.

  “The cancer is back.”

  The end of the shore was in view, causing me to come to an ungraceful stop, arms and legs flailing uncontrollably.

  “The cancer is back.”

  My lungs couldn’t stop pumping out shallow breaths. I was getting lightheaded. Bending over, placing my hands on my thighs, I attempted to draw in oxygen.

  “The cancer is back.”

  I laced my fingers behind my head and paced like a caged animal, breaths huffing out of me.

  “The cancer is killing my family.”

  Relentless tremors bulldozed through my body, shattering the last ounce of resolve I was holding on to. My chest ripped open with sobs.

  Looking up to the clouds, I screamed, “Fuck you! She doesn’t deserve this! Our baby doesn’t deserve this! Fuck you for letting this happen! You need to punish someone?!” Balling my fist, I pounded hard against my chest. “Then give me the fucking cancer and leave them alone!”

  With my face coated in sweat and tears, I collapsed on the sand, sobbing, as my body convulsed to exhaustion.

  Back home, I showered, changed my clothes, and joined the family for dinner. It was like any other family gathering except for the suffocating silence, each of us playing out individual scenarios in our heads. By the time everyone left, Tweet and I were exhausted. We got ready for bed and lay side-by-side staring up at the ceiling. We hadn’t said much to each other since leaving Dr. Lang’s office. I wondered if she were having doubts about our decision like I was.

  My hand skimmed across the sheet in search of hers. Once contact was made, I curled my fingers around her hand. I turned my head toward her. The moonlight streamed in from the window reflecting off the quiet tears spilling from her eyes. Swallowing the basketball in my throat, my grip tightened, triggering a small sob to escape from her.

  “What’s rattling around in that beautiful head of yours?” I whispered.

  “Nothing.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “Having to tell everyone today… it was hard.” Her eyes clamped shut, more tears seeping from the corners.

  “You were amazing.”

  “I heard him.”

  “Your dad?”

  “After you left, I was walking down the hall and passed by the bathroom. He was crying and getting sick.” She choked back a sob. “I wonder if it would have been better had I died the first time.”

  My chest deflated. I wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. Screaming how insane that was to even think that for a second. But I didn’t. Instead, I let her get it all out, no matter how painful it was to hear her say those words, because it’s what she needed at the moment.

  “All the money my parents have spent seems like such a waste now.”

  “You’re what matters to them.”

  “Halle wouldn’t be at risk and have to face growing up without a mom.”

  “Tweet…”

  “And you could have moved on by now and had a normal life, instead of being a nurse to me.”

  Propping myself up on one elbow, I leaned over her. I took her chin between my fingers, turning her to face me. “When are you going to get it through that beautiful thick skull of yours that there is no moving on from you for me? I couldn’t even do it all those years you were being a pain in the ass, pushing me away.”

  Leaning down, I kissed her lips softly, lingering for several seconds before pulling away.

  “I think we need to plan…”

  “Let’s do it. You want to go shopping tomorrow and fill up that nursery?” I gave her a weak smile.

  “I think we should plan for a future that doesn’t include me.”

  “Tweet, I will do anything you ask, but I will not do that. I can’t.”

  “I want to be a part of our daughter’s life even if I’m not here.”

  That night, Tweet and I planned out how we would raise our daughter. I agreed to take daily videos or photos of us, showing how excited and happy we were getting ready for Halle to arrive. I convinced myself that the three of us would watch these as a family once Halle got old enough. Tweet wanted to give Halle a part of who she was, something lasting. That night she started writing a series of notes to our daughter. I didn’t read or ask what the notes were about. There were certain things between a mother and daughter that the dad didn’t need to be privy to.

  To the outside world Tweet and I were just a young couple making plans and getting ready for the birth of their first child. We were also two people playing Russian roulette with our future. The type of cancer Tweet had was aggressive, the potential for it to spread quickly was great. Dr. Lang kept a close eye on things, having us return to the monthly visits during the course of the pregnancy. As the weeks passed no indication of metastasis or noticeable change in the spots on Tweet’s lungs occurred. This was great
news. If we could maintain this holding pattern until Halle was born, Tweet’s chances of survival increased. But knowing that didn’t lessen my fears. My body jolted each time she coughed or cleared her throat. And it was a struggle to keep my nerves reasonably steady and stay strong for Tweet with each doctor visit, unsure if that visit would be the one to annihilate my family. We had a month to go before we officially met our daughter. As Tweet focused more and more on the birth of Halle, I couldn’t help but focus on the day chemo would start.

  I was in the nursery putting the final touches on the manly projects that involved nails, hammering, and electric tools. Standing on the ladder, I hung the last sage green curtain that matched the large rug covering the dark hardwood floors. I never even knew sage was a color until Tweet schooled me the day I referred to it as just green. I was learning an awful lot about girly things I never knew existed. Looking down at the room from the ladder, I admired all of the work it took to pull this off. Tweet had outdone herself.

  The theme was little birds. I loved that she took the nickname I’d given her when we were kids and used it as inspiration for our daughter’s first room. Tweet asked Emily to use her artistic ability to create a mural on one of the pale yellow walls. My little girl would be staring up at red, orange, and gold leaves blowing from the tree across her wall, as a variety of pink, blue, and red birds, plus one owl, perched on branches and flew overhead. The white staggered shelves I’d hung housed all kinds of children’s books as well as just the right amount of stuffed animals.

  “Tweet, can you come in here and give me a hand with this?!”

  Appearing in the doorway, she said, “What’cha need?”

  “I dropped a nail. I think it fell in the baby cabana.”

  Chuckling, she walked farther into the room. “Noah, it’s a bassinet.”

  “That’s what I meant. Would you mind looking for the nail?”

  My gaze stuck to Tweet like glue, nervous of her reaction. Placing her hand inside the bassinet, she felt all around, then froze. Slowly straightening, she held up the small black velvet box. I climbed down from the ladder and tentatively walked toward her. Our eyes locked.

  “Tweet…”

  “Noah, we’ve already discussed this.”

  Medical expenses were an ongoing issue. Even before the relapse, there were still follow-up exams and tests Tweet had to go through. We had decided along with her parents that it was best for her to stay on her father’s insurance until the cut off age of twenty-six. Any insurance I was able to provide wouldn’t have come close to matching his and with a pre-existing clause, it was doubtful her cancer would be covered until after a certain timeframe. I hated the situation. It made me feel less of a man, not to be able to provide everything she needed. Since we found out the cancer had returned, my desire to make Tweet my wife had consumed me. I wanted us to be officially husband and wife in everyone’s eyes.

  “Please Tweet, will you…”

  “Don’t ask me that question, Noah. Not now.”

  “Then when? When can I fucking ask you?”

  “When you don’t think I’m going to die!”

  “I’ve loved you forever and have wanted you to be my wife for as long as I’ve known the definition. How can you think otherwise?”

  “I want you to propose when we know there’s a future, not because you want to give me your name before you bury me.”

  “You piss me off so much sometimes.” I snatched the box from her hand, as I’d done countless times before, and turned toward the ladder.

  “Noah, look at me.” I spun around. “You don’t have to give me an entire lifetime in a few short months.”

  “I know, but… I want you and Halle to have my last name.”

  “Halle will have your last name.”

  “And you?”

  “I will someday, just not today.”

  My frustration and aggravation subsided the longer I stared at her. Tweet and I didn’t have time to waste on being angry. And frankly, there was never an issue more important than spending time showing how much we loved each other.

  “If you still won’t let me ask when that someday comes, just know, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

  “I’d rather a thorough spanking.”

  “Is it beyond perverted that I want to take you right here on the floor of our daughter’s nursery?”

  “It’s time.”

  A sharp jab hit the side of my ribs.

  “What?” I yawned, stretching out my arms and legs.

  Tweet and I were spending a lazy Sunday lying on the sofa watching every chick flick known to man. She had been having mild contractions since we woke up this morning. Talking with the doctor, she assured us that this could go on for a few days and was perfectly normal. I dozed off during the umpteenth Drew Barrymore movie.

  “Time.” Tweet squeaked.

  Looking at my watch, I yawned again. “It’s 4:15.”

  “Not the time. It’s time!”

  Shit!

  I bolted upright, twisting toward Tweet. “It’s time?”

  She nodded, a smile playing across her lips.

  My eyes grew three times their original size. “It’s really time? But the contractions are so far apart.”

  “They’ve been getting closer the last hour while you were sleeping. I called the doctor and she said to come to the hospital,” Tweet said.

  My gaze dropped to her bump and then shot back up to her eyes. “Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?”

  “Noah, can we discuss this later, like after I’ve given birth?” she snapped.

  I jumped up from the sofa and took one step forward before spinning back around, crashing my lips into hers.

  “I love you, Tweet.”

  “I love you, Noah.”

  I went in for one more kiss before running to our bedroom to grab the overnight bag we had packed. I sprinted back to Tweet. Extending my hand, she placed hers in mine. I helped her off the sofa and into the car. We were using Tweet’s Volkswagen Beetle since trying to get her into my truck nine months pregnant was not a pretty sight.

  Tweet pulled out her phone and sent texts to her parents, my mom, and Emily letting them know we were on the way to the hospital. Glancing over at her, I smiled with the thought that we were about to share another first.

  “I’ve shared all my firsts with you.”

  “You’re the first girl I’ve ever noticed and the last girl I will ever notice.”

  “My first kiss was the greatest first kiss in the history of first kisses, because it was with you.”

  A nurse and wheelchair were waiting for Tweet as we walked through the door of the hospital. Rolling down the hallway, we passed the waiting room where our family had already arrived. Mrs. Kelly, Emily, and Mom all stood, their faces lit up with bright smiles and happy tears. Mr. Kelly was already nervously pacing in front of the window. As the nurse led us down the hall, Tweet held up one hand, waving at the soon-to-be aunt and grandparents.

  Once in the room, I was relegated to the corner of absolutely no use, while the pit crew of nurses got Tweet settled. As they were hooking her up to various monitors, beautiful watery teal eyes looked over at me.

  “I’ll always take care of you and make sure you have candy, Tweet.”

  “Chocolate cake takes the hurt away and makes everything better.”

  “Mr. Stewart.” The sound of the nurse’s voice brought me out of my memories.

  “Yes?”

  “You can go be with your wife now.”

  “Thank you.”

  I walked over to Tweet, scooting the chair as close to the bed as it would go.

  “How ya feeling, wife?”

  Narrowing her eyes, Tweet pursed her lips.

  My hand reached over, brushing away the piece of hair that grazed her cheek.

  I leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “You look beautiful.”

  Her chin had a slight tremble. “You are so incredible to me.”

  Suddenly,
she bolted upright, her jaw dropped and her eyes popped wide open.

  Grabbing my hand she squeezed… hard. “Oooh! It hurts!”

  “Try to relax, Tweet.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Breathe.” I demonstrated by blowing out quick short spurts of air like they taught us in class.

  Her gaze nailed me to my spot. “I know how to breathe, Noah!”

  Damn!

  She blew out air until the pain subsided. Her grip loosened around my numb hand as her body relaxed back into the bed.

  I shook my hand, trying to get blood and sensation flowing again. “Feel better?”

  “I love you so much, Noah.”

  For the next ten hours our family, the doctor, as well as nurses drifted in and out of the delivery room. I spent the time being a human stress ball, letting Tweet grab and squeeze any part of me while she suffered through stronger contractions. The doctor and nurses kept reassuring us that everything was going great, slow, but that was expected with a first pregnancy. Mom, Mrs. Kelly, and Emily all offered to take my place for a while to give me a break. None of them were surprised when I turned them down. Nothing and no one was going to separate me from my girl.

  “You’ve always been my girl and always will be. No one will ever take me away from you, Tweet. You’re my heart and soul and that’s never going to change…”

  “You do have me. Every part of me. You always have.”

  When we hit hour twelve and still no Halle, I told the family to go home and that I would call them when things got moving. Of course, none of them left, opting to stay camped out in the waiting room. All the activity outside the delivery room had quieted and the sun had gone down. Tweet was so exhausted that once they gave her the epidural she fell asleep. I was sitting in the same position I had been for the better part of a day. My hand was lying over her forearm, my thumb slowly moving back and forth over her skin. While I enjoyed the view and feel of my girl, a light drifted in the room from the doorway. As our doctor walked in, I gave her a tired smile.