by D. Love
She helps me get dressed and we head towards the door. We cannot find my sunglasses, so Mom hands me my sleep mask to wear outside. The sun bothers my eyes and makes my headaches stronger. I check my desk for the elusive sunglasses before I leave my room, and butterflies start swimming in my stomach. There’s a note on my desk in distinctly male handwriting.
Live today...
Love today...
Smile today...
I will see you today...
- Jett’s Poetry
I laugh for the first time today. What an awesome person he is! I want to tell him that his poetry is as bad as he warned me it would be. Still, it’s sweet and thoughtful.
Mom pokes her head into the room. "What’s so funny?"
"Jett’s right. His poetry sucks," I reply.
Mom and I get into the car and drive to the center. As soon as we walk up to the doors, they automatically open and we are hit with the horrible scent of disinfectant. I always hated the smell. I used to tell Mom that this place smelled like death. One day, a few weeks ago, she got upset and told me,
Rye, maybe you should think of it smelling like hope.
Every day I’ve visited the center since then, I consider her words. She’s right. The reason I come here is because of hope. It took a while, but I now equate the smell of disinfectant with hope.
We go to my normal room, and I take my usual chair. The nurses are smiling as they hook me up for my treatment. I close my eyes, listening to my mother's soft voice as she reads to me. It always amazes me how a simple story can take me away from the fire burning through my veins, caused by the drugs used in my chemotherapy treatments.
When Mom reads to me, she somehow brings these stories to life. I can’t imagine what life would be like, if I had to go through this without her. Every time I’m hooked up to this bag of death, I experience an uncontrollable sense of fear. Being here makes me think of death. What they do to try to extend my life is painful. Will it hurt this bad when I die?
Sometimes I think so much about death, I lose focus of what’s important. But, faithfully, Mom is always able to snap me back to reality by reading to me. She’s been my strength since this ordeal began.
We sit there for an hour, Mom reading and me listening. When the treatment is over, a nurse unhooks me and hands me a bed pan. I always sit there for a few minutes to regroup. However, I feel different today. There’s no queasy stomach, and my headache is almost gone. I’m relieved not to feel the ill effects of the treatment today.
We leave the center. My phone beeps, and I look down to see a text from Jett.
What is something beautiful you saw today? The text asks.
Smiling, I type a response. Why?
A person should always be able to see beauty in something everyday. He answers quickly.
His words bring tears to my eyes. I stop to evaluate my world, in search of what part of it is beautiful today. My attention falls to my mother.
She’s five feet, five inches with shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes that always sparkle with a warm smile. A lot of people assume we are sisters, but lately, I can see the years are finally catching up with her. She seems more fragile than she was a year ago, more defined in her looks, but still beautiful and wholesome. I know the reason she’s aged the past year is because of my illness. Her heart and strength, though, are as incredible as her smile. She’s beautiful from the inside out.
My mom, I text to Jett.
Indeed, he responds.
We reach the car and head for home. I stare at my phone, puzzled once more.
"Mom, what do you think Jett wants from me?" I ask her.
"Well, Rye," she replies, glancing at me, "I think he just wants to be your friend. Do you think he is cute?" The question is far too casual.
"Mom! How would I know? I haven’t thought to look at him like that." I’m lying. She probably knows it.
Mom snorts loudly. "Rye, with all that staring you’ve been doing, you haven’t noticed if he’s cute?"
"It doesn’t matter really," I tell her. "I mean, what do I have to offer someone like him?"
"Oh, Rye," Mom says. "You have so much to offer someone."
"Pain, Mom. That’s all I have to give." I rarely have moments of self-pity. If anything, I usually try to keep the spirits of my family from sinking. But every exchange with Jett reminds me of what could’ve been, instead of what will be.
I’ve noticed he’s cute, yes. I’ve also noticed how good his heart is and how much my family, including little Em, adore him. I can’t reconcile dying with pulling someone like him into my life, no matter how happy I might be with him.
We ride the rest of the way home in silence. I hop out of the car and instantly became dizzy.
See, Mom, I say to myself. This is all I can offer: Pain and suffering.
I head to my bedroom, not wanting to think about involving someone new in my pain and sorrow. I let myself wallow in dismal thoughts and feel sorry for myself for a short time, then remember why I long ago decided I wouldn’t do this. My family needs my strength as much as I do theirs.
I join the rest of the family in the living room, where Katy is doing Em’s hair for the dance. Angie is running around the house singing to no one in particular. She’s waving her chubby arms around in an attempt to make a sun or moon. At least, that’s what I think she’s doing. Life is achingly sweet, when you see it through the eyes of a baby who has no thoughts or cares in the world, other than going from one activity to the next.
A knock at the front door takes my attention from Angie.
"I’ll get it!" Mom says, jumping up. She’s grinning as she hurries to the door. I don’t need two guesses to know who’s there.
Mom is beaming when she returns to the living room, followed by Jett. I braced myself to see him again; however, nothing prepares me for seeing him in his military Class A dress uniform. He’s utterly stunning and so sexy, I’m pretty sure the freaking butterflies in my stomach have just turned into birds.
He catches my eye. His smile and wink would make even my mother melt. He pauses in the entryway of the living room. His posture is straight and his hands are clasped behind him, at the small of his back. His stance is wide, and I can’t take my eyes off his clean-shaven features or his strong body.
He gives me a nod that I take to mean hello, except the amusement in his eyes makes it more likely he’s actually saying, I know you think I’m hot!
"Hello, Rye, how are you today?" he asks me.
I mumble something that I hope is a greeting. His eyes light up in response, as if he’s silently laughing.
Em giggles as she enters the living room.
"Mama! Look at Jett!" she urges me. "He’s just like your dream man you describe to us all the time."
Right under the bus I go. No, that's not bacon you smell burning; that’s my face. I sneak a look at Jett to see one eyebrow cocked. I swear I feel like completely shaving it off.
There’s complete silence, until Jett turns to face Em.
"You look adorable, Em," he says.
She really does. She’s wearing a knee-length, blue satin dress with a sweetheart neckline and the cutest black bow hanging from the side. Katy pulled her hair in a beautiful bun on top of her head, with little curls coming down her face. Em’s outfit is finished off perfectly by black satin flats and my mom's special shawl that she inherited from her mother.
Jett presents Em with a beautiful, delicate corsage made up of lilies, baby's breath and a small blue ribbon. He gently places it around her tiny wrist. Her smile illuminates the room, and I grow misty-eyed. I’m not sure what to think about Jett’s involvement in my life, but for that moment, I love him for how sweet he is to my angel.
"Are you ready, Em?" Jett asks.
"Yes!" Em is so excited that her answer comes out a squeak.
Mom hurries in, clutching the camera. "Hold on! I need pictures, please."
The two oblige her. Jett and Em smile as if it’s the best day o
f their lives. I watch, enjoying the sight of them together. After tons of different poses, they finally get under way. I watch the door close behind them and wait a minute, until I hear the rumble of his truck engine starting.
Mom retreats to the kitchen. "Rye, would you like something to eat or drink?"
"No, thank you, Mom."
"Are you sure? You know, strength comes from food." It’s another of her cute sayings.
"Yes, Mom, I’m sure. Do you think Em is ok?"
"Of course she is, honey. You know Katy and Mark are chaperoning the dance. They won’t let anything happen to her. It’ll be a lovely night for all of them, Rye," she replies. "Now, Rye, tell me how handsome you thought Jett looked."
"Oh, Mom, not this again!" I have to laugh at her attempt to wring the truth from me.
"Honey, I have to admit, when that man walked in the room, I thought I was going to have to pick your jaw up off the floor or at least give you CPR."
"Really, Mom?" I roll my eyes. "Yes, he looked very nice, but that’s it."
Mom just nods and sits down at her computer to immerse herself in her Facebook world. I start watching a little TV, trying not to think about Jett in his military uniform. I doze off, and whispering voices wake me up some time later.
"Dee, I was hoping I could come over and start you a garden," Jett is saying.
"You want to start me a garden?" Mom sounds surprised.
"I was reading that fresh vegetables and fruits are very healthy for people. Gardening is also a really good hobby."
"If it’s that important to you…"
"It is," he replies. "So, I’ll have all the materials delivered at eight in the morning. I’ll be here shortly after. Is that okay with you?"
"Sure, Jett. You’re always welcome. What can I do to help?" Mom asks.
"I’ll take care of everything."
"Well then, we’ll be up and waiting for you at eight!"
"Thanks, Dee. Have a good night," Jett says.
"You, too, Jett."
I hear the front door close quietly. Em bounces into the living room a few minutes later.
"Mama, are you awake?" She taps my cheek. "Mama!"
"Yes, honey, what is it?" I ask.
"Mama, I had the greatest time at my dance. "
"You did?"
Opening my eyes, I sit up. "Tell me about it, Em."
"Well, first we got there, and all my friends ran over to meet him," she starts. "They asked me if he was my father. You’ll never guess what he said!" Her eyes are as big as quarters.
"Oh, my!" Humoring her, I slap my hands over my mouth. "What did he say?"
"He said, I will be soon if Em will have me." She lets out the biggest squeal I have ever heard. I’m not sure I heard her right.
"Em, you have to calm down. What did he mean by soon?" I ask, baffled.
"Oh, Mama! Can’t you tell Jett is going to marry you?" She’s bouncing and giggling around the living room, excited enough to shout. "He knows how to do the Cotton Eye Joe and Gnangnam style dance. He knows how to do it all, Mama! All of it. He was popular. I can’t wait to go to school tomorrow and hear my friends. Now, I am going to be popular."
I’m shocked. I’m debating whether or not it’s right for Jett to be in my life at all. Apparently, he and Em have their own plans.
"So you had a good time?" I manage to ask her. By the beaming smile she gives me, I can see the answer.
"Yes, yes, yes! It was awesomesauce, Mama, really fun. Oh, yeah, and I forgot to tell you. He tells funny jokes, too."
I start laughing and give her a hug.
"Em, you need to get ready for bed," I tell her. "It’s late."
"Okay, Mama!" she sings and dances away to her room.
I love, love seeing her this happy.
The next morning, I wake up to the scent of newly turned dirt and recall Jett saying he wanted to start a garden here. Assuming I slept in, I run to the bathroom and get ready. After brushing my teeth, I walk over to my bedroom window.
True to his word, Jett is in the backyard. He was stunning in his uniform, but wow, seeing him in action is something else entirely.
Holy smokes.
He’s working hard. His biceps bulge, and the roped muscles of his forearms flex every time he slams the hoe into the ground to dig out rocks and roots.
Good gravy – the man is definitely hawt. And mine.
Or at least, he’s in my backyard. That has to count for something, right?
I slip into shorts and my favorite T-shirt, the one that reads, I kiss cowboys. I slide my feet into flip-flops and exit out the back door of Mom’s ranch house. The backyard is beautifully landscaped, featuring a walkway lined with flowers that leads from the back door to the play area.
I cross to the area that Jett has claimed for his garden. He appears to be in the zone as he works, oblivious to everything.
"Good morning," I call.
Jett throws dirt in the air and screams like Em.
"Good grief! You scared me to death, Rye!" he exclaims, turning.
I try to apologize but am laughing so hard, my ribs start hurting. I sit down. When his surprise wears off, Jett laughs as well. It takes me a few minutes to recover.
"So, tell me, Jett," I say when I’m able to breathe and speak again, "what is the importance of a garden?"
"It’s the healthy way to live," is all he says.
"Hmmmm," I reply. There’s got to be more. Any other day, I’d probably ask him more questions. But right now, I’m completely captivated by his work – and his body. He’s always in a t-shirt. Sweat makes it cling to his upper body, outlining the muscles of his wide back.
Tracing the definition of each muscle would take me all day, but I would definitely accept the job. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and the kindest. He’s pretty much perfect.
"You wanna help me, or just stare at my ass all day?" he asks, twisting to see me.
Chapter Eight: Jett
I want to burst out laughing at Rye’s response to my teasing challenge. Her eyes bug out, and she’s speechless. For a minute, I worry she’ll fall out of her chair.
She’s so easy to embarrass. I love watching Rye’s cheeks turned deep pink. Even her nose turns colors when she gets embarrassed. It makes the blue of her eyes even more vibrant.
"What would you like me to do, Jett?" she asks, standing up.
"Well, you can start with taking the water hose and spraying the ground," I reply. "The softer the soil is, the easier it is to hoe."
I watch as she walks over and picks up the hose. She’s gorgeous – and completely unaware of it. She has the perfect amount of weight on her. Her waist is small and her hips round in a way that makes me want to get close enough to grip her waist and pull her into me. I’m lost in the thought of what holding her body against mine would feel like, when a cold shower of water hits me. Rye looks happy about spraying me with the hose.
"Auugggghhh!" I yelp. "What are doing? Rye!"
"I thought what was good for the goose is good for the gander," she replies.
"What are you talking about? I never sprayed you with the water hose."
As soon as I lift my hand to wipe the water from my face, she sprays me again. I take off running after her, and she sprays more, this time right in my face. She holds the hose up again.
"You come any closer, and I’ll do it again!" she cries.
My palms go up. "Fine. I give up."
"Good," she snaps. "Now, you stop looking at my ass."
She had me! I shake my head and pick up the bag of fertilizer. I bend over again to pour the fertilizer on the ground and notice that Rye is looking the opposite direction. There’s no way she’ll let me catch her watching me again.
We continue working for the rest of the morning in comfortable quiet. After a couple of hours, Rye sits down. Her chest rises and falls, and there’s pain etched in her features.
My thoughts are quickly jumbled. How can I take the pain and hurt away from her?
Look at me, planting a garden. I searched online for ideas about how to make people healthy when they have been stricken by sickness. Of course, most of the advice is the healthier, the happier. I am only hoping that this will work in Rye’s case. Mind over matter is the cure.
Ha! I thought. But I am willing to try anything. The longer I work, the more I begin to wonder if there’s an online search I can do for ideas about making a girl fall in love with me. I think I’m off to a good start, but Rye is reserved, hard to read.
The morning and afternoon go by quickly. We work together in the garden, each of us in our own thoughts. When early evening falls, Dee walks out to us with a basket of goodies slung over one arm and holding a pitcher of sweet tea.
I meet her at the halfway point of the backyard and take the basket. We walk over to the picnic table. I place the basket down, then relieve her of the pitcher of tea as well. Dee kneels in front of Rye, asking if she needs anything. She reaches in her pocket and pulls out some sunglasses, easily sliding them in place over Rye’s eyes.
Rye rests her head in her hand. I busy myself setting the food out, still not quite sure how far I should pry into their lives by asking about Rye’s illness.
"Ready to eat?" I ask.
They join me at the table. We sit and eat. Dee asks me about the garden, and I give a distracted answer, instead watching Rye pick at her food. It's like her body could change within a beat of a heart. Mind over matter, right?
"Rye, can you take a ride with me?" I ask.
"No, I’m sorry, Jett," she replies. "Em is getting ready to get out of school soon."
"Rye, go. I’ll be here for Em," Dee pipes up. "She has band after school today and Mark is picking her up."
Rye appears hesitant before saying, "Okay, that’s fine."
Dee smiles at her and then gives me the motherly look that says, you better take care of my baby.
"I’ll call you if we’re going to be late, Dee," I promise her. I hold out my hand to Rye. Miraculously, she takes it. I walk her slowly to my truck and open the door for her. She looks like she’s having a hard time, so I scoop her up and set her on the seat. I grab her seatbelt, and snap her in, like I did Em the night before. I close the door as gently as I can, hoping not to aggravate her headache. I jump in the driver’s seat and start the truck. We pull out onto the road in front of her mom’s house and start down the road.
