Abstract Love

by Samantha Christy

  He holds onto me until I calm down. It feels familiar, just like it did eight years ago when I was a resident, not a volunteer. He has a soothing way about him. His arms envelop me. He is a large teddy bear. I think it’s one of the reasons I like him so much. He has a way of making the bad stuff go away. He is my mentor. My friend.

  As we break apart, I feel smaller hands come around me from behind.

  “Hey Keri,” Kimberly says into my back.

  I turn around and give her a proper hug. “Kimberly, I’m so glad to see you.” I don’t have to ask her why she stayed behind. The cuts on her arms are only the tip of the iceberg. She would never let anyone see her less than fully clothed in pants and sleeves, which is hard to do in this Florida heat.

  Kimberly is the one I feel most connected to here. I was exactly like her as a kid except that instead of cutting, I used shoplifting to numb my pain. She, too, lost her parents and after being shuffled from foster home to foster home, ended up here. Some of the other counselors have trouble with her, but she relates to me and I hate the fact that I can’t be here more often for her.

  We spend the next few hours baking cookies and brownies for the rest of the twelve residents. Then, exhausted, I decide to head home, but not before Kimberly catches me on my way out.

  She gives me her shy twelve-year-old smile and hands me something. “This is for you. I made it. It’s for when your hair falls out.”

  I examine the . . . hat? I’m not really sure what to call it. It resembles one of those hats that hunters wear with the floppy sides that cover your ears. I think she means it to look like hair. It is brown and green and yellow and completely hideous.

  “Kimberly, I love it!” My throat tightens and tears start to fill my eyes. “This is the most special thing I’ve ever been given. Thank you.”

  “I know it sucks and you don’t have to wear it if you—”

  “Are you kidding?” I interrupt her as I put it on my head. “You better be prepared to make some more because once I show up at the clinic wearing this, you’ll have to take orders.”

  She smiles proudly as I give her a hug and head out the front door.

  ~ ~ ~

  Walking up the sidewalk towards the clinic for my third cycle of chemo, I take a mental inventory of how I felt this weekend. A little worse than the week before, that’s to be expected. They told me I might feel weaker the further into chemo I get. After the first horrible night of my treatment and then a few days to recover from it, I felt relatively good and was able to complete my three weekend shifts.

  I round the corner of the building and run smack into a wall. Well, it seemed like a wall. It’s actually a person. And now I’ve got Starbucks all over my pants. “Son of a bitch! Can’t you watch where you are walking? My latte is all over me and now I’m going to be late and . . .” I stop talking when I look up into the alluring green eyes of Jace who has a horrified look on his face. His eyes are wide and he looks like he wants to say something, but I beat him to it. “What?” I bite at him.

  He reaches in his jacket and pulls out a piece of paper and a pen. Oh, God. I totally forgot he can’t talk. Now I feel like a total bitch. He scribbles something and then tears out the page and hands it to me.

  I’m sorry . . . Carrie, is it? I wasn’t looking where I was going. If you give me your number, I can apologize properly via text because we are now late.

  I raise my eyebrows at him. Really? “You’re kidding, right? Do you get a lot of girls to give you their numbers by playing that card?”

  He laughs silently then scribbles some more.

  Not like that. Have girlfriend. Really just want to apologize.

  “Well, you have. Twice,” I say, before turning to walk into the clinic.

  After taking my usual seat, I pull out my laptop and start studying for my Contemporary Social Theory class. It is one of the three classes I’m taking this semester to try and finish my Sociology degree. I really hope I don’t have to drop my classes and re-take them next year. I’m so close to finishing.

  The main doors open a half an hour into therapy and, of course, we all stop what we are doing to see who is coming in at this odd time. I see who it is and look over to Jace who just shrugs at me and smiles shyly. Jace hands a few slips of paper to the guy in the Starbuck’s apron carrying a tray of a dozen coffees. The guy looks around and stops when his eyes land on me as he proceeds to walk over and stand in front of me.

  “He didn’t say what kind of latte you wanted so I have several to choose from.”

  I stretch my neck around the coffee guy to take a look at Jace who is wearing a very large smile that is producing an adorable dimple in his left cheek. Then I peruse the descriptions on the cups until I find the one I want. After I take the cup, the delivery guy hands me a piece of paper that simply says. Again, sorry. Followed by a phone number.

  I close my laptop and enjoy watching everyone else, including the nurses, pick a cup and savor their unexpected mid-morning treat courtesy of Jace. Well, courtesy of Jace running into me and spilling coffee all over my pants. The pants that are not my usual comfy chemo attire. But for some reason, this morning, I was compelled to put on my favorite pair of worn jeans, the ones that make my butt look fabulous. I’m not sure why, because all I do here is sit on my butt for several hours, leaving no chance for anyone to admire it.

  I pull out my phone and type the number scribbled on the slip of paper into my contacts. Then I type out a message.

  Me: Apology accepted. Keri.

  I know the instant he has read it. His eyes light up and a grin slowly creeps up his face. Wow, he is truly a sight to look at. For one brief second I’m sad that he has a girlfriend. Okay, maybe more than a brief second if I’m being honest.

  Jace: Thank God. I’d like to pay to launder your jeans. It would be a shame to have those go to waste, Keri with a K.

  Oh! He did notice. Score one for Keri. With a K.

  Me: Don’t worry about these old things, they’ve had worse things than coffee spilled on them. But thanks for the offer.

  Jace: You are welcome. So, what’s so interesting on your laptop?

  A little twinge races through me knowing that he wants to keep talking after the whole apology thing.

  Me: Stuff that’s the opposite of interesting. Contemporary Social Theory. But it’s the means to an end.

  Jace: You go to school? What’s your major? No, let me guess . . .

  He stares at me for what seems like forever, those green eyes burning into mine as he cocks his head from side to side in contemplation.

  Jace: I’ve got it. Women’s Studies. You want to champion the equal pay issue all the way to the top. Wait, you’re not a lesbian, are you?

  He gets an eye roll from me for that comment.

  Me: Not a lesbian, but that shouldn’t matter to you, mister ‘have a girlfriend but want your phone number anyway.’

  I shake my head as I press send.

  Jace: To apologize! Geez! Yes, I have a girlfriend. She is great . . . and beautiful. Plus, I thought since we are the only people here under forty years old, we could pass the time together.

  Me: Melanie is under 40, but not by much. Okay, we can pass the time, but let’s get the obvious out of the way shall we?

  Jace: Right. Stage 2. Throat. You?

  Me: Also stage 2. Breast.

  I have to keep from reaching up to cup them. It seems every time I talk about my boobs, I’m compelled to make sure they are still there. But, somehow I don’t think feeling myself up right now would be the appropriate thing to do, especially not with him watching me.

  I quickly pull open the lid to my laptop. I have to know what the numbers are. I Google throat cancer.

  Jace: You are Googling my cancer, aren’t you?

  A blush sweeps up my face and I wrinkle my nose.

  Jace: That’s adorable—don’t do it anymore.

  Oh, okay. I go to ask him why not, but he beats me with a new text.

  Jace: What
do you want to know about it?

  Me: Well, I’m sort of obsessed with numbers.

  He nods his head in understanding.

  Jace: 80

  Oh, no. That’s not nearly as good as my 93. My face falls. On the other hand, most people in this room have a much lower five year survival rate than that.

  Jace: What else?

  I wish he’d just come out and tell me about his bandage. I mean it is so obvious, but I hate to be so petty and ask about it, as I’m sure everyone else does. He must see me eyeing his bandage because he types out a text.

  Jace: I had surgery a few weeks before starting here. It doesn’t really hurt that much anymore, but I won’t know the full effects of the surgery for months.

  Me: Full effects? You mean if they got clean margins?

  Jace: No, they are fairly sure they got clean margins. I meant I won’t know if I will be able to speak again.

  Oh my God. And suddenly I feel a fool for mourning breasts that I still have. Breasts that could be replaced with plastic surgery. There is no replacement for losing your own voice. I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to say to him. I simply start typing.

  Me: Who needs a voice when you are as good looking as you are?

  I hit send before truly realizing what I said. I’m such an idiot. He is going to think I’m so shallow and that I like him or something. I can’t believe I just trivialized him not being able to speak. He is going to hate me. But when I look over at him. He is looking right at me with a smirk on his face. He starts to type out a text, never breaking eye contact.

  Jace: Keri, that is the best response I’ve ever gotten. Most people tell me how sorry they are and that I should learn sign language and crap like that. But not you, you are different. And might I return the compliment and say that while I think your breasts are quite attractive . . . not that I’m looking or anything . . . but that you would still be smokin’ hot without them.

  Wow! I mean . . . wow!

  I don’t respond. I can’t respond. I mean, yes, Tanner has told me that very same thing, but he is required to, he is my best friend. He is supposed to lie and say that no, this dress does not make my butt look huge and stuff like that. But I’ve never heard it from another man. Somehow it matters more coming from Jace, a virtual stranger, yet I feel this instant bond with him.

  Jace: So, you think I’m good looking, huh?

  I don’t answer. I just close my eyes and shake my head at my temerity.

  Jace: Don’t worry, Keri. Like I said, I’ve got this great girlfriend . . .

  And with that, he goes on and on about his girlfriend Morgan and how they’ve been together for years. Their families are close and they practically grew up together. The way he talks about her makes me admire him. He is proud of her and by the end of our session, I truly believe that he does simply want to pass the time with me. He is obviously fiercely loyal to Morgan.

  I tell him about Tanner, since he is, in fact, the most important person in my life. I’m not sure Jace believes he is merely a roommate and there really is no point in bringing up Tanner’s sexual orientation, so I just roll with it.

  I look at the clock and see we are almost out of time. I’m surprised that the time passed so quickly and I’m glad that we will have each other to stay occupied every Monday morning.

  Me: Did you have any reaction to your first cycle?

  I sit tight and await his response. People have a varied spectrum of reactions to chemotherapy. Not everyone gets sick like I do. I hope he didn’t.

  Jace: Yes.

  I let out the breath I was holding and silently curse cancer for the millionth time in the last few months.

  Me: That bad? The anti-nausea pills don’t work for you either, huh?

  Jace: Let’s just say that while I was lying prone on my bathroom floor, I was wondering if you were doing the same thing.

  I flash back to last Monday night and wonder briefly if we were thinking of each other at the exact same moment.

  Chapter Three

  I haven’t heard from Jace all week. He hasn’t texted me. Not that I expected him to. We were just passing the time during treatment, nothing more. But I have thought about him. A lot. Especially as I was enduring my weekly Monday night reaction to the chemo. And when I went to bed and dreamed about a beautiful green-eyed man who couldn’t speak to me with words, but somehow I knew exactly what he was saying.

  Work has gotten a bit more difficult, but I’m pushing through. Tanner insisted we work the same shifts so that he could pick up any slack. Tonight, being Sunday, is a relatively slow night and Tanner brought a stool around behind the bar so that I can sit down when I need to. I sit and tell him, once again, all about my ‘talk’ with Jace last week. I don’t know why he keeps asking me about it. It’s like he is analyzing it and trying to figure out if Jace is really after me romantically. I assure him that he isn’t, but he still is watching out for me like any brother would surely do for a sister.

  “He was checking out your boobs and your ass, that we know for sure,” he says.

  “Yes, but in a purely platonic way and also in a way that made me feel better about myself. Not in a creepy stalkerish way. Plus, he hasn’t texted me once all week.”

  “Still, I think I should come with you to check him out.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Tanner, you cannot take a day off from your new temp job to babysit me at chemo.”

  He scrolls through my phone, reading the entire Jace thread again. “Okay, as long as you let me keep reading your texts. But, Keri, as soon as I think he crosses the line—”

  “I know,” I interrupt. “I give you full permission to come check him out, kick his ass, or whatever over-protective things you plan on doing. But I can tell you right now, you won’t need to. He is totally in love with this Morgan girl.” I sigh.

  “Oh my God, you just sighed!” He laughs. “You are so into him.”

  I reach out to slap him, but he moves away sending me toppling off the barstool nearly hitting the edge of the counter on my way to the floor. Tanner reaches out and stops me from doing a complete face plant. We are both laughing, but when we see what he has in his hands, things aren’t so funny anymore.

  This just got real. There in his hands are hundreds of strands of long blonde hair. My hair. I didn’t even feel it come out when he caught me.

  Tanner looks at me and he doesn’t know what to do. If I didn’t know any better, and if it weren’t so dark in here, I’d say his eyes were welling up with tears that he was fighting to keep from spilling over. “Keri, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He looks devastated.

  “It’s not your fault. You didn’t hurt me. I didn’t even feel it. I guess now we know I’m one of the sixty-five percent. I never wanted to be a minority anyway,” I say with a weak smile, taking a stab at his sexual orientation.

  “You know I love you and if you want me to, I’ll shave my head bald tonight. We can do it together.”

  I don’t doubt for a second that he would do that for me.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jace: Why the long face, sunshine?

  Me: Do you want the smart-ass answer or the real one?

  He lets out a deep breath and stares right into my eyes. Okay, real then.

  Me: My hair started falling out last night.

  Jace: Crap.

  Jace: Hey, look on the bright side. You’ll be the hottest, bald, boob-less chick I’ve ever seen.

  I laugh at the absurdity. I also know that only a fellow cancer patient could ever be allowed to get away with saying such a thing. I’m suddenly aware that we share a bond that no one wants to share.

  Me: So, you’ve seen a lot of them, huh?

  Jace: Shit, yeah. There are bald boob-less chicks all over the place. But they all suck ass on the hot scale. You would win hands down.

  Me: OMG . . . I’d like to thank all the fans that got me to where I am today.

  He laughs silently.

  Jace: You rock, Keri. You know
that right?

  Me: You too, Jace. And thanks.

  Jace: Anytime.

  The nurse goes over to adjust the flow on his IV and stays to talk for a bit. Well, she talks, he writes. I study him and realize what I didn’t when he first walked in. He looks thinner than he did last week. He’s still all gorgeous and ripped but he doesn’t quite fill out his shirt and his face is not as full. I frown. Freaking chemo.

  Jace: What are you worrying your pretty blue eyes about now?

  I look up and he is smiling at me.

  Me: How do you know I have blue eyes, you are twenty feet across the room. Are you stalking me?

  Jace: When I dumped coffee on you, you know, while you were chewing me out. I couldn’t help but notice your intriguing blue eyes.

  I smile at him, but I’m unsure how to respond to comments like that knowing he has a girlfriend. An incredible girlfriend who he adores and who he has been with since childhood. A girlfriend who he described to me in such detail that I could probably draw a picture of her.

  Oh, crap. A girlfriend who just walked through the main door of the therapy room.