Yeah, I knew it was stupid and pigheaded of me. But since I was dying at the age of twenty-two, I figured I was owed a little latitude.
My father’s opening line was random, but he was shrewd and more often than not, came around to his topic by the backdoor, as my mom liked to say. So I decided to see where he was going with this.
“I don’t think so.”
He smiled. “We’d been married since February, and we were living in the same tiny one-bedroom apartment in Philadelphia that I’d moved into right after college. We’d made the decision to relocate to the suburbs and start a family, so that fall, we’d been over here, looking. We found this house right around Halloween, and they accepted our offer on Thanksgiving.”
This part I knew. I remembered my mother saying that she’d always loved how fun it was to decorate our house for the holidays, since they’d first seen it around that time of year.
“Our lease on the apartment was supposed to end December 15th, but we couldn’t close on this house until the end of January. So me being the financial wizard I am . . .” He quirked an eyebrow at me and smiled wryly. “I thought we could move out of the apartment in December, and since we were going to spend Christmas with my parents anyway, we’d just go early and stay with them until the end of January, when we could get into the new house.”
“Hmmm.” I tried not to smile, but the corners of my mouth tipped up anyway. I thought of my dad’s parents and my mom, their sometimes-uneasy relationship even now, and tried to picture what it would have been like when my mother and father were newlyweds.
“Yeah, hmmmm is a pretty accurate description of how things went. By Christmas Eve, your mom was a mess, my own mother was barely speaking to me and the entire family was in turmoil.” Dad shook his head. “The day after Christmas, Mom and I moved into a hotel and lived there until we closed on this house. My genius financial idea cost us a hell of a lot of money.”
“But Mom was happy.” I rubbed a sore spot on my leg. “So it was all worth it.”
“Totally.” He grinned. “After I sulked for about a day, I decided to just call it our second honeymoon. I’ll spare you the nitty gritty details, but let’s just say . . . if you’d hung in a little longer and weren’t born so dang early, you’d have come about nine months after that little unplanned vacation.”
“Thanks for that information, Dad.” I grimaced. “What’s the moral of this trip down memory lane?”
He sighed. “Quinn’s miserable, Nate. She’s exhausted and tense and on edge. Your mother . . . God love her, son, and you know I do, but she’s spent twenty-two—well, nearly twenty-three years now keeping you alive. It’s not easy for her to just hand the reins over to Quinn, and it’s not fair to expect Quinn to jump into her shoes.”
I shifted a little bit. “But I don’t want Mom to take care of me. I want just a little bit of normal, okay? Just . . . something the way it’s supposed to be. I just want Quinn and me to be a couple for as long as we can. If we could move somewhere and be on our own, I’d do it. But Mom would freak out. I thought being here would be a decent compromise.”
“You’re not wrong about your mother. And Nate, you and I have always been straight with each other, right? As much as you want to have what you call a normal life with Quinn for as long as you can, we have to take your mother’s feelings into consideration here. And if I’m being honest, mine, too. Neither of us wants to lose any time with you. We also know that we’re familiar with your medical needs in a way that Quinn isn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to your mom and me for you to move away from us and deny us these days with you, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect Quinn to jump in as an expert in your medications and other needs.”
“So what do you suggest?” I sagged back into the couch. “Are you saying I should send Quinn away? Or just let Mom run over her all the time? You saw what happened earlier. They were at each other’s throats. I love Mom, but you taught me that a man’s responsibility is to his wife, right?”
My father smiled. “I did. Our situation is a little different, though, than when we used to have our talks about marriage.”
“You always assumed those discussions were hypothetical, didn’t you?” I let my eyes drift shut. “Guess I fooled you.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He sounded sad. “But I did have an idea, and I ran it by Carrie this afternoon.”
“Were you thinking of Quinn and me moving in with her?” Carrie’s house was certainly big enough for us, but since it was two stories, with the bedrooms upstairs, I’d never considered us living there.
“That was my first idea, yes, but I decided pretty quickly that it wouldn’t work. At least, not her house here in Eatonboro. But you two seemed to make out well down at the shore. I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t go back down there. Quinn would be more comfortable in a house that’s familiar, for sure, and her bedroom is fairly spacious—I’m sure we could fit in the hospital bed even with her bed.”
“But what about Mom? And you?” I didn’t see how this was going to solve that problem.
“Mom could move down, too. It would be good for her, actually. And I’ll commute on the weekends. I can even probably cut down my work week a little, stay until Monday nights.”
“What about my doctors?” Being too far from the medical professionals had been one of my mom’s concerns about me being in Ocean City even for the week after our wedding.
“I haven’t checked with Dr. Randall yet, of course, but I have a hunch that he’ll be okay with this.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s the upside of the fact that there’s not much they can do for you anymore.”
I stared at the seam on the edge of the cushion. “The last time I saw him, he said that eventually we’d have to talk about hospice. He told me it’ll be the kindest thing I can do for you and Mom, and for Quinn. Can we do that down there?”
For a long few moments, my father didn’t answer. When he did speak, his voice was heavy. “We can. Of course, nothing says you have to stay down there . . . that long. If you felt that you wanted to move back to this house later on, we could arrange for transport, even if you couldn’t handle the car trip by then.”
I’d thought that I’d long ago come to grips with impending death. It had been perched on my shoulder for so many years that we should’ve been old friends. Still, talking in such definite terms gave me a little sense of panic, as if there wasn’t going to be enough time.
“I think I’d rather stay down there. The beach . . . it’s peaceful, and it’s Quinn’s happy place. It would be a good spot to die, I think.” Silence hung between us for a few moments before I spoke again. “You said you talked to Carrie. Was she okay with all this?”
“Yeah.” Dad cleared his throat. “She’s been worried about Quinn, and I think she was relieved that I suggested this move.” With one more long exhale, he stood up. “I’ll tell your mom and Quinn our plans, and we’ll aim to get you set up down there this week. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.” I nodded. “Thanks, Dad. For everything.”
“Wake up, lazy bones.”
My eyes were heavy, but I forced them open, my lips curving into a smile at the same time. There was no way I could be grumpy when the sweetest girl in the world was rousing me.
“What time is it?” Old habits die hard. Schedules didn’t mean anything to me anymore, not when there was nowhere I had to be, but still, I felt that letting go of the idea of time was relinquishing one more hold on life.
“Nine-thirty. Why, do you have a hot date?” Quinn’s voice was teasing, making me glad, and I reached out to catch hold of her hand where it rested next to my leg as she perched on the side of the bed.
“The hottest around.” I lifted her fingers to my lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thanks. And it seems like you did, too.” She scanned my face carefully, and I knew she was watching for any tell-tale signs that I was in pain.
“Yeah. Since Dr. Randall adju
sted that medicine, I’ve been getting better sleep. Only problem is, I end up getting too much of it.” I leaned a little and reached back to adjust my pillow, trying to sit up.
“Here. Let me fix it.” Quinn stood up and deftly folded the pillow in half before she grabbed another from the chair and tucked it behind me. “Is that better?”
“Perfect.” I settled back, sighing, watching her move to lean against the chair as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful. I could look at you forever.”
Pink stained her cheeks. “Well, aren’t you the flatterer this morning? You must want something.” She winked at me, teasing, but I could tell what I’d said had made her happy.
“No, not a thing. Just more time with you.”
Pain flashed in her eyes. I could’ve kicked myself for that; as much as I could, I tried to keep things light and positive around Quinn. I was greedy, and I wanted every minute we spent together to be filled with only happiness and laughter. I tried to explain what I meant, to take away her hurt.
“That’s why I hate that I’m sleeping more. Every second I’m asleep is one I’m missing with you. Seeing your face is the best part of every day, even when you’re scolding me.”
The worry on her face eased, and she rolled her eyes. “I only scold when you’re a grouch about taking your meds or doing what the doctors say. And sleep is good. It lets your body recharge.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to quote my grandmother and say I’d sleep when I was dead, but I didn’t want to bring up anything else that would dim the light in my wife’s gorgeous eyes. So I only nodded. “Yes, dear.”
“Brat.” She stood up, stretching her shoulders. “I’m going to get your breakfast ready. Your mom already left to go back up to Eatonboro for the day, but I have a surprise for you.”
“Really? What?” I cocked my head, curious.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?” She flashed me a saucy glance. “Now, do you need help to the bathroom before I get your tray?”
I shook my head. “I think I can manage by myself. And I’ll eat breakfast in the other room. I want a change of scenery today.”
Quinn raised her eyebrows. “Feeling feisty now, are we?”
“I’m feeling pretty good, actually, and I don’t want to waste that on staying in bed. Maybe I could even go out onto the deck for a little bit, if it’s not too hot.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s pretty dang warm today, and muggy, too. But if you still feel okay, we could sit out there tonight after dinner and watch the sunset. How does that sound?”
“Sounds romantic. I’ll take it easy this afternoon so I’ll be able to make it out there tonight.”
“That’s a good plan.” She paused in the doorway. “Be careful getting up. Yell for me if you need me.”
“I will.” I waited until I couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore before I threw off the sheet and blanket that covered my lower body. Although Quinn was one of the very few people who’d seen my legs lately, I still wasn’t comfortable parading them around in front of her. All of the muscle tone I’d worked so hard to build up during high school was long since gone, and my shins and calves were discolored and bruised as my circulation got worse. It wasn’t pretty, and if I could protect her from that, I would.
Once I’d acclimated to sitting straight up right, I slid down until my feet hit the cool tile floor. The first time each day that I put any weight on my feet was painful, and I gave myself a few minutes until the spasms passed. Only then did I carefully stand and shuffle toward the bathroom, leaning on furniture and the wall as much as I could.
After I’d taken care of the most pressing needs in the bathroom, I lurched back into the hallway and made my way slowly to the living room. There was already a pillow and blanket on the couch, and I sighed in relief and fatigue as I sat down and covered myself from hip to toes.
Quinn had rearranged the furniture in here so that I could see outside to the beach through the wide picture window along the rear wall. There were already a bunch of people out there today, setting up their blankets and chairs on the sand, chasing kids down to the water and rubbing on sunscreen. For a second, I was wild with envy for each group who was blissfully ignorant out there, most of them enjoying their time in the sun, dealing with nothing more tragic than sunburn or a seagull snatching food from their hands. I knew that I wasn’t being fair; everyone had his own share of heartbreak or challenge, but just now, it felt like I was the only one facing the end. Premature death. A life cut short. I wanted to rail at all of the people on the sand and tell them that they had no idea how crappy it was to know my days were numbered in weeks, not years.
And then, I heard Quinn singing in the kitchen. She didn’t have the best voice in the world, not by far. It wasn’t her talent. But she sounded happy and relaxed, and suddenly, I knew for certain that those poor jerks on the beach had nothing on me. They might’ve had decades of life ahead of them, but they didn’t have Quinn, and they never would. I’d only have her for another few months at best, but that still made me luckier by far than anyone else in the world.
We’d been down at the shore for about six weeks. By the end of the first week, I’d been willing to declare my father a genius. Living here had been the best decision ever. Quinn had begun sleeping better almost immediately, and I’d noticed the shadows under her eyes had faded. She was eating better, and there was no doubt that she was happier overall. Each morning, long before I woke up, she arose and walked on the beach. She told me that she’d always needed time on her own, and those early-morning walks made all the difference in her ability to cope for the rest of the day.
My mother had backed off a little, too. She and Quinn had come to a meeting of the minds, as my dad put it, in their joint effort to care for me. Mom even left us alone together some days, as today, when she drove back home to take care of whatever couldn’t be accomplished via telephone or internet. Sometimes she and Carrie went out for lunch or dinner when they were both here. It gave Quinn and me the illusion of independence, and it felt damned good.
Dr. Randall had referred us to a local doctor who was overseeing my daily care and any medication issues that arose, but I didn’t need him often. My long-time doctor had made one trip all the way down here to see me himself, and he’d told me that this move was the best thing I could’ve done for myself and for Quinn.
“Not a bad place to go out, Nate.” He’d stood next to the sofa, gazing out onto the crashing surf. We’d been alone after he’d performed a cursory examination on me. “Not a bad place at all. I always thought, when it’s my time, that I’d like to be near the ocean. I could just feel my soul dancing over the waves, once I’ve shuffled off the damn mortal coil.”
I’d grinned. “Didn’t know you were such a poet, Dr. R.”
“I’m not, but I will admit to being a fan of the Bard. He had a lot to say about crossing over, you know. Hamlet, Macbeth, Caesar . . . they all had lines about death.”
“That’s true.” I’d stared out the window along with him. “You’re thinking that this is goodbye for you and me, aren’t you? We won’t see each other again.”
Dr. Randall had sighed. “I never make those kind of predictions, but . . . I think maybe you’re right this time. If you’re going to stay down here, there won’t be another opportunity for me to come by to check on you. And frankly, no need, either. There’s nothing more I can do for you, Nate.” His jaw had tensed. “Not one fucking thing. I wish there was. I thought . . . or I hoped, maybe, that time wouldn’t run out before we’d find a way. An answer for you. But it’s not going to happen. I’m sorry, Nate.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You did everything any doctor could, and you were always honest with me. I appreciate that.” I’d rested my head on the arm of the couch, letting my eyes close. “You’ve been there at the end for a lot of people, haven’t you? What’s it going to be like?”
He’d shrugged. “Can’t say for s
ure. It’s different for everyone. But I think it’s going to be peaceful. I imagine it will be a relief for you in many ways. The pain will be gone.” He had hesitated. “I’m not a religious man, but I’ve been present at too many deaths not to be spiritual. I have a feeling you’re going to dance into the light. All the shit you’ve dealt with your whole life will be a distant memory.”
“I hope it’s peaceful, for my parents and for Quinn.” I’d swallowed over a huge lump in my throat. “That’s the only thing I’m worried about. And God, I wish I had more time with her. I thought I was okay with dying, but every time I see her face, I wish for just a few more days. More months.”
“I understand. I wish I could give you that time. But as much as it frustrates the hell out of me, one thing I’ve learned is that everything happens the way it’s supposed to. Trust that. Try not to let what might happen at the end ruin the time you do have.”
“I’m working on it.”
I sighed now, remembering. These weeks since we’d moved down here had been incredible, and I was grateful that my dad had suggested it. For the first time since I’d proposed to Quinn, the guilt I’d been harboring over doing it had eased a little. Her happiness was all I needed, I realized, and now that I could have her with me and make her smile, that was everything.
“Breakfast is served.” She came around the corner of the kitchen doorway, carrying the tray. “All your favorites. Cinnamon toast, one egg over easy and crispy bacon.”
“Wow. It’s like the best day ever.” I reached for a piece of toast. “Under other circumstances, I’d ask you if I’m dying or something, but we both know the answer to that.”
“Nice, Nate.” She exhaled as though in annoyance, but I could tell it was more bluff than anything else. “Just enjoy your food, and then maybe—”
Days of You and Me Page 4
