by Susan Renee
Who’s the douchebag now?
“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I know you didn’t know, or at least I didn’t expect you to know.”
“Do you…” I swallow unsure if I really want to broach what I know to be a sensitive topic myself. “Do you want to…you know, talk about it?”
Bryant shakes his head and shrugs. “There’s really not much to tell.” He says, sitting on the arm of the couch. “Samantha and I were never an item. We were a one-night-stand accident. She came into the bar one night with her sister, drank a little more than she should, and I…” He sighs and shakes his head in defeat. “I took advantage of the situation. I knew she wouldn’t say no. A month later she comes back to tell me she’s pregnant and that she’s absolutely sure it’s mine.”
“Oh Bryant…”
“Ivy’s beautiful though, Seven. Absolutely beautiful. She’s my sunshine on a rainy day, my sugar and spice, she’s…everything to me now. We take care of each other and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
My heart is melting. Damnit to all hell my heart is melting.
He has a kid.
“What happened to her mother?”
“Pulmonary embolism. Three of them, actually, in her lung following child birth. She died three days after Ivy was born. The doctors didn’t catch it in time.”
“Ivy…” My eyes move to Bryant’s shoulder. “That’s why you have the tattoo. It’s Ivy.”
“Yes,” he says quietly.
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t understand what?”
“Your tattoo.” I say. “I mean, I get it. It’s an ivy leaf…but, it’s a beautiful green leaf hanging on…why does it look like a dead vine?”
“Because it signifies resiliency, strength, and courage. All the things Ivy is; all the things she’s had to be in her short life.”
“What do you mean?” I ask him.
“She doesn’t remember Samantha’s passing obviously, and lucky for her she doesn’t remember much of anything she’s had to endure in the past couple years.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“Like traveling to Louisville Children’s Hospital a few times a year. Like enduring the never ending sting of a needle every time she has to get bloodwork done.”
Oh Jesus. She’s sick.
Poor Bryant.
Poor baby girl.
“Cancer?” I ask.
“No. Liver transplant. She was diagnosed with Biliary Atresia when she was a couple months old. Her poor body has been to hell and back, but she has a new liver and has been on the upswing for a while now, thank God. She’s on constant meds and is watched closely. So yeah, I guess we celebrate life any time we can because…well, she almost lost hers.”
Bryant’s words cause my past to flood my brain with memories of a horrible time. I’m listening to what he’s telling me but I’m not hearing a damn thing. All I can think about is Peyton.
“You have the opportunity to turn our tragic loss into a celebration of life for several other families.”
“…Put yourself in their shoes. If there was any way we could save Peyton with an organ transplant, wouldn’t you pray for that decision from those families?”
“Savannah?” I feel a hand on my arm. “Savannah?”
“Huh?” I shake my head releasing my brain from the trance I was just in. “Yeah. That’s great, about Ivy, I mean…”
What the fuck did I just say?
“I mean, no, it’s not great that she went through all that and had to have a transplant. That’s not what I meant…shit!” I mumble. “I’m sorry, I’m just not getting my words…”
“Seven,” Bryant interrupts.
“Huh?”
“It’s okay.” He smiles meekly. “You just spaced out on me, and I’m about seven hundred percent sure I know where you went and what you were thinking about just now and I apologize. I didn’t mean to bring this all up. It’s not my intention to hurt you.”
I shake my head. “You’re not hurting me, Bryant. It’s okay, I mean, I would be lying if I said I never felt the stabbing pain in my heart when I think about my Peyton, but at some point I have to pull up my big girl pants and realize that if it weren’t for kids like mine, kids like yours wouldn’t have a life to celebrate, right? Life goes on…until it doesn’t anymore.”
Bryant winces as he tilts his head and watches me try to hold back my tears. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Because Peyton was an organ donor.” I cross my arms in front of me and look away so Bryant doesn’t see the tear slipping down my cheek. I take a slow, quiet deep breath before swiping the tear away as inconspicuously as possible. “I didn’t want to. I wanted to take my baby girl and run from that hospital. I wanted to wish her back to life but…my heart knew what my head didn’t want to admit. She was already gone. Shawn’s organs couldn’t be donated because of the damage but Peyton…she was able to be a hero to a little boy in the same hospital that day who needed a kidney, and little girl from another hospital who needed her heart.” Several tears now run down my cheek and I decide to let them run free. “I mean how could I say no to those families ya know? Those kids are alive and well and growing up in a healthy body all because of Peyton.”
“You’ve talked to them? The families Peyton helped?”
“No. Well, yes, I guess, in a way. I wasn’t going to. I sort of didn’t want to know, ya know, where all of Peyton’s pieces went.” I cringe at the thought. “But my therapist encouraged me to write a letter to help me heal so I did…but it didn’t. He mailed the letters out on my behalf and since then I’ve received a few replies from grateful families. It took me a while to want to read them.” I can’t hold back the tears now. I know I should be happy for what Peyton has been able to do but this hurts. One look at Bryant’s pitying expression and I’m a goner.
“It’s harder than any hell I could ever endure to know that my girl is alive but in someone else’s kid. I’m supposed to feel happy for those kids, happy for those moms and their families and I do, but I so totally don’t at the same time,” I sob. “I don’t get to hug her or kiss her or feel her heart beating next to mine. Those moms get that, but I don’t.” I reach for a Kleenex to wipe the steady tears from my face. “God, I’m sorry Bryant. I don’t mean to be a blubbery mess.”
Bryant watches me for a second without speaking before slowly walking towards me. Our bodies are now inches from each other and I gasp slightly when I feel it. That spark. I haven’t felt it in a long time, and maybe it’s because I’m just feeling down and drained and lonely but it’s there. When I raise my head to look at Bryant’s face I can tell he feels it too. I want him to kiss me so badly right now, but everything about that seems all sorts of inappropriate. Slowly his arms envelop me as he pulls my head to his chest with his hand. As he’s holding me in this warm, comfortable hug, his hand glides down my hair and smoothes the damp tendrils over and over again. This is nice. I haven’t been hugged like this in a long time. I allow my arms to embrace Bryant in return as my head lies softly in the crook of his shoulder blade. The smell of Bryant’s day-old cologne from the t-shirt he’s wearing wafts through my nose, a calming essence to my emotional state. Without hesitation Bryant kisses the top of my head. I don’t react; not because I didn’t like it, but because I’m not totally sure that he’s aware that he did it. He’s achingly gentle and…compassionate; definitely not the Bryant Wood I used to know.
I’m not the Seven Sanders he used to know.
He lets go of me just enough to raise my chin up to his face with his finger. “Savannah, there is nobody in this world who gets to tell you that you’re not allowed to be sad or feel sad whenever you damn well please. You’re a mother, Sev. You were, you are, and you always will be because a piece of you now lives in a piece of those children. It’s okay to be a little sad for all the reasons you mentioned…but…as a father of a baby girl whose life was saved by the life of another, I hope that one day you’ll be at peace with
knowing what a hero your daughter was and is to this day for so many kids, and that you’ll be able to celebrate her life instead of mourn it.”
“Thank you, Bryant,” I whisper. “I hope for that too.” He wipes the tears from my cheek with the swipe of his thumb. The simple act of compassion makes me feel warmth in places I don’t usually pay much attention to anymore. The spark between us is definitely there and damn if I don’t want to ignite it. With his fingers in my hair, our foreheads touch, I look up to see that Bryant’s eyes are closed. We stand together like this for what feels like many long minutes each of us trying to calm our rapidly paced breathing.
“Seven,” he whispers.
“Yeah?” My lips part slightly in anticipation.
“I really want to kiss you right now. Like, really kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you so badly since high school…and even more so since you turned around in my bar the other night.” I don’t know what leads me to do it but I close my eyes and raise my head just a little bit to let him know I’m okay with a kiss. In fact, I’m hungry for the connection.
“But I’m not going to.”
What?
I hold my breath instantly, not sure of how to react, but before I can even say anything Bryant has my face in his hands. “I can’t in good conscience kiss you right now because I would be taking advantage of the moment we just shared and I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I’m not that guy anymore and I want to show you that, so just know that…that when I do kiss you…and yes I promise, I will kiss you…that it won’t just be because I’m a single man and you’re a smoking hot woman who just happens to have my pity because you have the plague.” That makes me laugh and bite my lip to keep from laughing all at the same time. “It’ll be because I’ve wanted to kiss you the way I want to kiss you for years and damnit, it’s going to mean a whole hell of a lot…okay? Is that okay with you Seven?”
“You’ve wanted to kiss me for years?” Why didn’t he ever tell me that?
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since our first day of our freshman year of high school.” Bryant swallows then smiles as he reminisces. “You walked up the steps of our school bus looking like an angel…and you never once looked at me. You never knew I was watching you the whole time.” A small dimple appears in his right cheek as he smiles. “Good thing I had a back pack, too, because I had to hide my hard on for the entire bus ride.”
Oh my God!
“I don’t remember that, I’m sorry. I just remember you as a…”
“Complete dickhead. I know. Believe me, I know. The asshole that I was back then said many less than nice things to many undeserving girls, including you, but I was young, and so very stupid, and I’m so damn sorry.” He touches my cheek with his hand. “Savannah, I promise you I’m not that guy anymore, and if it’s okay with you, if you’ll let me, I would really love to show you the man I am now.”
Damn if he didn’t just ignite my spark. Maybe it’s his semi-southern twang but his voice is captivating and calming all at the same time. I find myself not wanting to say no to him, and at the same time I feel guilty for not feeling guilty about saying yes. Am I finally moving on with my life? What would Shawn say? Does it matter? He’s gone. I’m alone and that’s not how I want my story to end. And deep down, I don’t think Shawn would want my story to end that way either.
“Yeah Bryant. That’s okay with me.”
“Okay…good…yeah…okay.” He says in between heavy breaths. We both try to calm ourselves down. His warm lips place a soft kiss on my forehead. “So, what do we do with the rest of our day ‘girl-with-plague’?”
“Um, well, I’m feeling better but probably shouldn’t go out and do too much so…umm, I guess if you’re serious about staying for the day we could watch Netflix and chill or whatever.”
Bryant gives me a devilish grin before busting up laughing.
“What? Why are you laughing?” I can’t help but smile at him because his laughter is contagious, but I don’t get what just happened.
Through his laughter he asks “Do you even know what you just said?”
“Umm…” I think for a second. “Didn’t I just say we could watch Netflix or whatever?”
“No Seven, you said ‘Netflix and CHILL’…do you not know what that means?” He’s got a serious case of the giggles.
“What do you mean? It’s Netflix…like on the cable box you know? Like, movies, or binge-watching episodes of Breaking Bad. Why? Does it mean something else?”
“Hahaha! Yes, it means something else. You really don’t know?”
“Obviously not douchebag, so tell me. What did I say?” I swat his arm as I begin to laugh with him.
Bryant shakes his head in amazement…at my naivety I’m sure. “Seven, ‘Netflix and Chill’ is code for ‘let’s have sex’.”
I gasp and try to hide my embarrassment. “It is? Since when?”
Bryant chuckles and runs his hand down the back of my head. “Since you clearly don’t get out much.”
“Well you’re right about that.”
“Yeah well as soon as you’re feeling better we’re going to rectify that situation. I’m going to take you out and you’re going to have fun. Just you and me.”
What?
“You mean like a date? Are you asking me out on a date?” I ask playfully.
He narrows his eyes slightly. “If I did, would you say yes?”
I shrug teasingly, but try to remain as serious as possible. “I guess you won’t know until you ask me.”
Bryant smirks but shakes his head knowing that I’m playing with him now.
“Seven, will you go on a date with me?”
I give him a seductive look. As seductive as one can be in sweatpants and a tank-top. “Because you want to ‘Netflix and Chill’?”
My joke backfires though when without hesitation Bryant pulls me into him, our bodies as close as they can be to one another. I squeal in surprise.
Damn…his body.
“Baby, I’ll ‘Netflix and Chill’ with you anywhere, anytime…” He tilts his head just enough so that he’s speaking softly in my ear. Mother trucker…this is…he is…I’m melting like butter in his arms. I can feel myself giving into the temptation that is Bryant Wood and I’m not even feeling guilty about it. What the hell?
Oh my God, this is hot.
Please just lay me down right here right now.
“…But I really think we should kiss first and I can’t kiss you until I’ve taken you on a proper date so please, for the love of my now fifty shades of blue balls, will you please do me the honor of joining me on a date?”
That earns him a hearty laugh and a confirming, “Yes, Bryant. I think a date sounds nice. I would love to.”
If there’s one thing that the last eighteen to twenty-four hours has taught me, it’s that Mr. Bryant “The Giant” Wood is not at all the douchebag I remembered from my childhood. I guess people really can change. At least I hope I’m right. I guess it’s time to take that leap of faith that Mama talks about all the time.
Chapter 13
Bryant
January 2, 2013
After a relaxing morning of snuggling on the couch with Ivy, watching episode after episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, I make my way to the kitchen to get us both some lunch. It’s time for Ivy’s medication as well. I open the refrigerator door when my cell phone rings loudly in my pocket. I don’t usually jump and fumble for my phone when it rings, but this ringtone is different. Motley Cruë’s “Doctor Feelgood” only plays when one person calls. It’s a sound I haven’t heard in a while and now that I’m hearing the hard core guitar sound, my adrenaline is pumping. Ivy’s doctor, and surgeon at Kosair Children’s Hospital, is calling me. It’s now that the thought crosses me mind that my daughter’s life or death may be one finger swipe way.
“Hello?” I answer quickly and quietly so I don’t alert Ivy in the next room.
“Hello, Mr. Wood?”
“Yes. Speaking.”
“
Mr. Wood, it’s Dr. Fellgud from Kosair Children’s Hospital. I’m calling with some great news that I think you need to hear.”
Oh shit!
This is it.
Is this it?
Please, God let this be it.
I can’t swallow. My mouth has gone dry. I’m backing up in my kitchen until the backs of my knees feel the chair against the wall telling me it’s okay to sit down. I can’t make words come out of my mouth because me entire body has been overtaken with nerves.
“I…oh…is it…um…?” I clear my throat hoping to be able to focus more on saying actual words.
Please save my baby girl.
There’s a pause on the other line that feels like six hours when really it’s probably only been six seconds. A very faint chuckle comes from the other line before I hear “Mr. Wood. Are you there?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m here. I’m sorry.” I clear my throat again. “What is your news, sir?”
“Mr. Wood I’m happy to report that we have a liver for Ivy.”
HOLY SHIT!
This isn’t happening!
It’s happening!
He said a liver!
“A liver, right? You said a liver?” Damnit I’m choking on my own fucking tears. “You have a liver for Ivy? This is really real? I’m not having another fuckin’ dream, am I? Oh sorry about that Doc., excuse my language. I just…oh God.” I try to catch my breath when I lean over and place my elbows on my knees. One hand shaking as it tries to hold the phone, the other on the back of my neck.
“Yes sir. I did say a liver. It’s a perfect match for Ivy and lucky for us, it’s close by and won’t take long in transport. We would like to have Ivy with us this afternoon for pre-op testing and preparations. Can you do that?”
Can I do that?
Is the Pope Catholic?
“YES!” I shout way louder than need be, and nod my head, wiping the tears that are flowing like a damn river down my face. “I mean, yes. Yes of course Doctor. We’ll leave right now. Holy…I…oh my God this is happening. You’re going to save my little girl.”
I’m crying like a baby and don’t fucking care.
