Today Only

by D. Love

  "Where are we going?" she asks.

  "You will see when we arrive," is all I say in response.

  We turn down State Street a short time later and I pull into the driveway of my home. I turn off the truck, climb out, and open her door. She lets out a deep breath and appears indecisive for a moment. Finally, she holds her hand out for me to grab. I don’t even hesitate to take her hand or place my other hand on the lower part of her back to steady her as she descends from the truck. She straightens, leaning towards me, with her shoulder pressed into my chest.

  The feel of her body against mine takes me by surprise. I’m in no hurry to break contact with her and instead, breathe in the scent of her soft hair. It smells clean and fresh, and her shapely frame is warm. She regains her strength and pushes away from me with her shoulder. We walk to the door.

  "You might want to knock," she says, watching me reach for the doorknob.

  "I don’t have to, Rye. Welcome to my house."

  "Jett, why did you bring me here?" She’s tense.

  I honestly don’t know, except that I really want her to see my world. I rack my brain for an explanation that makes sense. The only thing I can think to say is that she can help me with my father's room.

  "I need to redecorate it, so he will feel more comfortable about coming to live with me," I explain. "I thought you, being female, might have some good views on decorating."

  She’s quiet for a minute, considering. "Sure, I’ll help you."

  I can't help myself. I break out into the biggest, stupidest grin ever. There’s nothing sexy about it! Just one, big ole grin.

  We walk through the front door. Rye pauses at the entryway, studying everything. My house is nothing to brag about, but it’s mine. My décor is simple, mainly black and white. The living room has a sectional sofa that took me weeks to save up for after I got home from overseas. It's black leather decorated with white pillows. A matching black recliner sits off to the side of the sofa. In the middle of the floor is an antique, black coffee table with glass in the middle.

  Rye looks at everything, running her fingers across the woodwork, and walks into the kitchen. I see her lips form a smile. She walks back to the staircase and starts up the stairs.

  "I want to see the bedrooms," she tells me. "But don’t you get any funny ideas."

  I can’t stop my laugh. I almost tell her I don’t need a bedroom to imagine those kinds of ideas but wisely decide to keep my mouth shut.

  I take her hand again and show her to the guest room.

  "Jett, this is the first thing you should fix. It’s too beautiful to be in such rough condition," she says, admiring the small designs in the molding. She reaches out to trace them with her fingers. I’m surprised she notices; no one else I know would pay attention to that level of detail.

  So are you, I want to tell her.

  She leans against the windowsill. I walk up behind her.

  "Rye, can I ask you a question?" I ask.

  She twists to look at me over her shoulder. I rest a hand on her hip and turn her whole body to face me. She’s close enough that I can hear her breath hitch at our nearness. I lean forward to close the distance between us. She glances at my lips, taking a deep breath. Reflexively, I breathe in deeply as well.

  She raises her eyes to mine. I’m caught up in her beautiful eyes, almost losing myself in the mysterious blue depths. Her eyes are expressive, and she conveys so much with them. Then I feel her hand rest on my forearm. She squeezes her hand, and it sends shivers all the way up to my neck.

  Her hand slides up my forearm, dragging her nails lightly across my skin, causing goose bumps to break out. Her fingertips continue up my bicep, to my shoulder, and across my collarbone to the back of my neck. She doesn’t move otherwise, and her gaze is intense.

  Unable to stand the light touch and her nearness, I cup her face with my hands and pull her into me. At first, I only press my lips to hers, not wanting to appear overly aggressive. But her lips part, and she runs her tongue along my bottom lip.

  My restraint slides away. I catch her tongue with mine and force her lips open, kissing her hungrily. My hands slide to the middle of her back, and I pull her closer, into my body, until she’s pressed against me. My body is almost fevered with my need for her, and we kiss passionately.

  Finally, we break the kiss. We’re panting, and I rest my forehead against hers. I’ve never held something this fragile and beautiful in my arms before. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I do her.

  I pull my head back to look at her, saying "I thought you only kiss cowboys."

  "What are you talking about?" she asks with a breathless giggle.

  I point to her t-shirt, and we both laugh. I want to smack myself, suspecting I ruined the moment with a corny joke. All I want to do is kiss her again. Instead, I wrap my arms around her in a bear hug.

  "I’ll take you home," I whisper.

  Hand-in-hand, we walk downstairs and outside. The night air is cool and refreshing. I open her door and help her up into the truck then try to close it as quietly as possible. I’m almost skipping to the driver’s side, I’m so happy from our kiss. I grab my keys and jump into the truck myself. I pull away from the curb, getting ready to break the silence with another joke. She beats me to it.

  "Jett, what do you want from me?" she asks.

  "Want from you?" I echo. "What do you mean?"

  "I know that you know what is happening to me," she says. "I’m not sure what I can give you or for how long."

  The gravity of her words troubles me. I knew this conversation needed to be had. I thought it might come at a different time. I pull the truck over and stop.

  "Rye, look me please," I tell her. I take a deep breath. "Yes, I know about your illness. Four years in Iraq taught me a lot about how to view the world, and how, when you find something precious to you, you enjoy every second you have it. What I want from you is simple. I want today only. If it's laughter, I want it. If it's pain, I want it. Whatever today holds, as long as the day holds you, I want it. I want today only."

  Tears pool in her beautiful eyes.

  "Okay, Jett, you can have today only." I can barely hear her words. She appears troubled still, but I put the truck in gear and start driving again.

  We ride in quiet. I wish I could read her mind and know what she is thinking. I hope I haven’t scared her away with my little speech. I mean every word.

  I pull up to her house and glance at her, hoping she’ll say something.

  Chapter Nine: Rye

  The perfect gentleman, Jett opens the truck door for me and helps me out. We stand there for a moment, gazing at each other. My mind is full from what he’s told me and how confident he is. I feel something akin to hope about being with him, and it kinda scares me. The kiss we shared was incredible. I’m not sure what possessed me to kiss him like that, except that I wanted him, all of him. The feel of his large hands on my back and hips made my whole body feel like it was melting into his. He’s strong and gentle. The combination is a total turn on.

  I take his hand, tugging him to the front door. I go inside and hear my mom on the phone. She’s laughing and giggling like a little girl. Jett stands behind me, close enough for our bodies almost to touch, with his hands on my hips.

  "Did your mom just say she wants to ride a kangaroo?" he asks, leaning into me. My whole body is on fire right now.

  "You’ll have to excuse my mom," I say, smiling. "Whenever she talks to her friend Jodie in Australia, she acts like a teenager.

  I love to see her happy and not burdened by me and my illness. Jett simply kisses me on the cheek and walks in the kitchen.

  I go to my bedroom and place my flip-flops in my closet. When I turn around, Mom breezes by my doorway, saying what sounds like, "Get ready! We’re going to Nashville!" before running back to the living room. She’s laughing the whole way. I’m not sure what she’s talking about, but I’m happy she’s smiling.

  I hear her tell Jodie that today is a goo
d day. My mom has two responses whenever someone asks her how I am. She never says anything other than today is good day or today is a bad day. I always know when she is having a hard time, because her phone rings in the middle of the night and then her sobs start. Some nights, they are heavier. Usually, by the time she hangs up with Jodie, she’s feeling better. My heart silently always thanks her sweet friend from Australia.

  Facebook – and the community she’s built there – is a healthy distraction for her. I often wonder if any of the people that she speaks to online know what she endures every day.

  My thoughts are so full of Jett, I’m seated at my computer, before I remember to check on Em.

  I get up and walk into her room. She’s angelic in bed, delicate and beautiful, the greatest gift in my life. She and Mom give me the strength I need to keep fighting.

  Em’s glasses perch on the night stand beside her bed. I turn her light off and lean down to kiss her forehead. When I straighten, the dizziness hits me. I brace myself, hands on the side of her bed, until it passes. Lately, it seems to take longer for it to pass. I inhale deeply and stand, glancing around as I recover.

  Her favorite sweater hangs on the back of her chair. Mom normally keeps Em’s room spotless, and I decide to straighten up before I go to bed. I walk over to pick it up and take it to her closet. I flip on the closet light to look for a hanger when I notice the back wall of her closet.

  Tiny pieces of mismatched paper and pictures are taped everywhere. Above everything is a large sheet of paper that reads, Please don't let me forget my Mama.

  I start to read through each one of the notes and cover my mouth with my hand. My heart feels like it is going to burst with every beat. Each small note documented a day in our lives since my diagnosis.

  Day 1- Doctors say Mama is sick.

  Day 11- I fell asleep listening to Mama cry.

  Day 65- Mama and I played a game, her smile is beautiful.

  Day 89- Mama slept all day, but tears still fell from her eyes.

  Day 114- Mama is sleeping, but Nana is crying.

  As I continue to read, my heart beats faster and faster. What I read tears me apart from the inside, and yet, I can’t stop reading.

  Day 123- Mama has the best blue eyes.

  Day 170- Mama fell today, I am getting scared.

  Day 183- God, please let me keep my mama.

  Day 213- Mama had a good day today.

  Day 225- God, I will never ask for anything again, if you don't take my mama, I will be a good girl. I promise.

  It went on. I see Em’s pain in the tiny notes that make up her journal, and the thought makes my chest almost too tight to breathe. My eyes fall upon a recent note.

  Day 253, Mama and me walked for the March of Dimes.

  Stuck to it is a second entry, one not written by Em but in familiar handwriting, the same that wrote me the horrible poem the other day.

  Day 253 Mom met Jett today.

  My tears fall helplessly. I feel the need to escape and lean away, falling into the arms of Jett.

  "Oh, Jett, my darling daughter," I say in a hoarse voice. "What have I done to her?"

  Jett places his finger on my lips, shushing me, and guides me back to my room. I make it to my room, mind reeling. I look up at Jett, another thought occurring to me.

  "The paper you found the day of the walk …it was one of her notes, wasn’t it?" I ask.

  He nods.

  I lose it and cry. Jett closes my door while I lie down on my bed and hug my pillow tight. He waits until I’m calmer then opens a bottle of water and hands it to me, along with all my medicine. I take them.

  "Jett, I feel like my heart is bleeding, if that makes any sense," I say to him.

  "It does, love," he replies. He crawls into the bed next to me, slides close and wraps his arms around me. He’s too much of a gentleman to try anything, and I relax against his body, grateful for his strength and warmth.

  My heartbeat slows as I fall into a deep, restless sleep. I wake up in the middle of the night and feel his heat. I only have the strength to peek and make sure he’s still there. He is, and his face is close enough that I can kiss him. I feel warm and safe in his arms and fall back asleep.

  Morning comes, and I crawl out of bed. My body is like lead today. I go straight to the bathroom for my morning routine. I look at my mirror, my eyes lingering on something stuck to my mirror. I pull down the paper to read it.

  Moments, memories, dreams!

  I want today.

  Jett's poetry.

  Lord, he really does suck at poetry. Maybe I will sign him up for classes. I shake my head but can’t help smiling. When I leave the bathroom, I can hear talking in the kitchen. I throw on my clothes then head there to find out who’s visiting at seven thirty in the morning.

  Mom is pouring coffee, and Katy is sitting at the bar. Em runs in behind me.

  "Mama," she says and gives me a huge hug.

  "Good morning, Em," I say. Seeing her reminds me of the notes in her closet. I ache for my young daughter and her prayers. "Were you good for Nana last night?"

  All three start laughing.

  "What?" I ask sharply.

  Katy jumps up from the barstool. "Mom, do you think Jett is finished with his coffee cup?"

  The laughter starts again.

  "What is so funny?" I stand there, staring at them.

  "See, Mama, miracles do happen," Em says.

  "What miracle are you talking about, Em?" I ask, perplexed.

  "Mama, Jett is ours now, right?"

  I almost choke on air, recalling how I fell asleep with Jett holding me. I didn’t expect Em to run into him, before she left for school this morning.

  "Em, don’t you have to get ready for the bus?" I ask hastily.

  "Yes, Mama, I’m ready. Just want to give you a hug."

  I kneel down beside her for the promised hug.

  "Mama, I really like Jett," she whispers.

  I kiss her and tell her to have a good day. Once Em is out the door, Mom and Katy start laughing again. Batting her eyes, Katy begins to sing, Jett and Rye sitting in a tree!

  "Good golly, Katy, you’re twenty four, for Pete sakes!" I exclaim.

  We all bust out laughing. For the first time since I can remember, there’s complete happiness. No worries or pressure. Just happiness.

  Several weeks pass. Jett is with us almost daily, including every Sunday dinner. He and Em spent time together every day, coloring, putting together puzzles and laughing. Em falls in love with having him around, and I consider myself the luckiest woman in the world to have met someone who loves my daughter as much as I do.

  Jett drops off pineapples, bananas, and a ton of other fruits, along with every vegetable known to man in his quest to help me stay healthy. We eat only organic foods from here on out. He researches everything – except for a cure. His philosophy: getting me healthy will solve everything. I’m not convinced, but I’m overjoyed by how much he cares. We’re both happy to discover that pineapples actually help my migraines.

  We celebrate Mother's Day the same way we did Christmas. We write love letters to each other. Since my diagnosis, we stopped gift giving in general, realizing that gifts seem so temporary when we can’t know how long life would last. But the words from the letters, we can take with us anywhere.

  Jett is constantly writing his so-called poetry. I giggle when he gives Mom, Katy and me poems for Mother's Day. They aren’t expecting it to be as bad as I know it is, and I’m laughing long and hard before they start. May passes, and Jett becomes even more a part of our lives.

  June rolls around. We are planning two events: Em’s graduation party and a big trip to Nashville, Tennessee, for a book conference. Mom has talked about nothing but cowboys, male models and books for a couple of weeks. This is her opportunity to finally meet all her friends from online. What her friends will never know is how their words, thoughts and messages probably saved her from watching her daughter fade away daily. For that reason
alone, I’m ready to do whatever it takes to ensure she gets to meet them all.

  Seeing her glow with happiness and anticipation does my heart good. She’s like Em on Christmas Eve.

  One morning in early June, I hurry from the bathroom in only a towel. I’m running late, and Jett will be here to pick me up soon. We’re supposed to go to the grocery store today to pick up the final items we need for Em’s graduation party. I chose my white sweater and shorts. Yes, a sweater in the summer.

  A few weeks ago, my doctor decided to put a port in my arm, because my veins were starting to collapse. This makes it easier for them but is rough on my dress code. At the moment, the entire length of my forearm is bruised. The doctor assured me it would go away, and I’m hoping they are able to remove it before the trip.

  I don’t want people feeling sorry for me; I want to pretend I am normal for the conference in Nashville.

  I tug my sweater over my eyes and am surprised to see Jett in the doorway. I turn red, standing there in front of him with my sweater and panties. He looks at me, smiling.

  "What’s one thing beautiful you’ve seen today?" he asks.

  "The sun," I reply, self-conscience.

  "You want to ask me?" He moves closer as he speaks.

  I do.

  "You, Rye."

  After all the time we’ve spent together, I’m still stunned that he can find me beautiful. He swoops me up in his arms and lays me on my bed. Kneeling down by my feet, he peels off his shirt, revealing his toned, muscular chest and shoulders. I’m awed by his strength and that someone this sexy is here with me.

  He smiles, eyes burning with desire, as he slowly moves up my body to settle between my legs. He braces himself above me with his arms, careful not to lean all his weight on me, as if aware of how fragile I am. He kisses me passionately. He acts like he can’t get enough of me. One of his hands slides down my bare leg, and he stretches to grip my ankle. He pulls it up towards my knee, and I wrap it around him, followed by my other leg.