“Wanna finish this story?” she says with a tired voice, opening her notebook and resting it on her lap. She pulls the pen top off with her teeth and crosses her legs.
“You sure you’re up for it?” I ask.
“It would be a welcome distraction.”
I nod in understanding. “Okay, where were we?”
“You made Travis promise not to leave you again.”
“Oh, yes.” I look ahead at the road and think back on my memories of that time, trying to pull out the important parts. I’ve told her so much, and I’m sure she won’t be able to put all of this in the newspaper. She’s got a big job to do with narrowing it down already. “I left John on April 15, 2005. It was not a good day. He was devastated, but he caused no scene. He sat in his recliner and stared mindlessly at the TV as my friends and family helped me move my son’s and my things out of the house. The look on his face broke my heart, because despite his behavior over the years, I never wanted to hurt him. John was a good man; he just got a shit start, and it stayed with him. But I knew this was what I needed to do. For me, for Travis.
“I just hate that my son had to witness his dad hurt so much, even though he wasn’t the best dad. Regardless, it crushed William. He was torn, and I could see it. He wanted his mom to be happy, but he didn’t want his dad to be sad because he loved him. It was a difficult time. As a parent, you never want to see your kids hurt, especially if it’s because of something you did.
“We moved into a little three-bedroom singlewide trailer. It was just a tin can, sitting on a piece of land with another singlewide nearby. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t ideal, but it became my heaven on earth. Not too long after we moved in, Elizabeth joined us. She was having issues at home, and I remember one night she stayed over. I told them not to sleep in the same bed together, but I woke up only to find they didn’t listen to me.
“Pissed me off. I thought what would her parents think? But if I learned anything from being a teenager in love, it’s that kids are going to do what they want. And if you don’t approve, they’ll just do it behind your back. So, they did what they wanted. They were both smart, so I trusted them to be careful, and they still don’t have children till this day if that tells you anything,” I say. “But boy, do I want them to!
“It was just us three for a little while, and I would leave the kids on Fridays and take my ass straight to Ft. Pierce, Florida. Travis and I would spend the weekends together, and then I’d head back to Georgia, until the time came for Travis to meet my son. He was nervous as hell about it, but I knew it would all be okay. Travis was the love of my life, and if I loved him, I knew William would, too. Plus, everyone liked Travis. He was just a likable guy.
“The first time he came up, I remember he had to pee so bad that he insisted we pull over on the side of the road. He’d said, ‘I can’t meet your boy and then tell him I need to take a piss.’ I laughed at him, but he was serious, so I had to pull over.”
Maggie looks over at me with a smirk. “I don’t think I blame him on that one.”
“What was it like having him in your home? I mean, with your kid there and Elizabeth? I know you had to feel like you were dreaming,” Cynthia says from the back seat.
I grin and look toward the road. “It was everything to have him there with me. I felt like my life was complete. We stayed up all night talking and I had to be at the hellhole the next day, but I didn’t care. I took a shower and drove straight there with a smile as big as Texas on my face. Not even my asshole of a boss could have ruined my mood that day.”
Maggie laughs, and Cynthia asks, “What did William think about him?”
“My son is a nice guy, so he wouldn’t be an asshole even if he didn’t care for Travis. But they shook hands, and that was that. They hit it off immediately, because they both had a love for music. The next time Travis came up, he mentioned that to William.
“He’d said, ‘Your mom tells me you love music and used to play the bongos in a band.’
“‘Yeah,’ William replied. ‘But I haven’t learned the guitar yet.’
“‘Well, I know a little.’
“‘Really?’ William asked with a slight smirk on his face.
“‘Yeah, go get your stuff, man. Let’s play some.’
“William went and got his bongos and guitar that John and I bought him for Christmas one year. Travis walked to our room and grabbed his twelve-string, and after that, the two would sit up all night. Travis took time with William, and eventually, he taught him how to play that guitar.
“Some nights we’d all be in the living room and I’d just watch in adoration as Travis would tell William, ‘Use this chord here, and strum like this. You got it. That sounds good, man.’ He’d laugh as he was playing, and he’d be the one who messed up. He’d say, ‘I’m fucked up.’ And then right after, ‘But fuck it, I’m home.’
“He was so patient. John was never patient and would get fed up if William wasn’t getting something fast enough for him, so if possible, it made me love Travis even more seeing him like that with my kid.”
“He sounds like a really great person,” Maggie says.
“Yeah.”
“How long did he come back and forth?” Cynthia asks.
“Only a few times, and then finally, he moved in…”
____
August 2005
“I got a bunch of shit I don’t need,” he says, throwing his things into a suitcase.
“Bring whatever you want. We’ll make room.” I watch him as he takes things from his dresser and brings them over. I can’t believe this is happening. I swear, sometimes I feel like I need to pinch myself. My life is amazing right now. I’m finally happy again. I’m finally back with Travis.
After we get the car packed, Travis says goodbye to his family and we hit the road. We’ve got a good drive ahead of us, but this is the best trip home I’ve ever taken, because this time, I’m bringing him back with me for good.
____
“When we got to Georgia and unpacked, Travis popped open a beer and that was that. He was home. Over the next few weeks, I was floating. Every day I got to come home to Travis Cole, my soul mate, the one I was supposed to spend my whole life with, and we had the rest of our lives to do so. I’d never been happier, and that was the downright truth.” I smile and adjust my seat belt as I turn a little in my seat to move my stiff back. “We might have to pull over and stretch in a bit,” I say.
“That’ll be fine with me. I gotta pee,” Maggie says.
“Get off at the next exit,” Cynthia throws in. “I could use some coffee. Continue,” she tells me.
“We fell into a routine,” I reply. “But.” I sigh and lift my heart-shaped necklace from my neck, rubbing it between my thumb and finger.
“But what?” Maggie asks, and I look over at her. She lifts a brow before looking back at the road.
I remember my place. “But troublingly, that dang cough and sore throat was still an issue, so around October he went to this little doctor that took patients with no insurance.
“He didn’t really do any tests or anything. Just gave him some throat medicine and sent him home.” I shake my head. “So we continued with life. I’d get up and go to work, and he’d have supper cooked when I got home. Our stove went out, so he had to cook on a griddle, but man, he cooked a mean breakfast on that thing. We would watch TV and curl up together, and every night I was thankful that I could fall asleep in his arms. He was planning on getting back to work, but we were waiting for his car.”
“His car?” Maggie asks. “The GTO?”
“That’s the one.” I smile. “His brother was hauling it up for us, and they were going to work on it and get it back running so he would have a ride.”
“Man, I’d love to see that car,” Cynthia says. I smile to myself. Maggie gets off the exit, and I see the sign for gas stations to the left.
“Can you get a coffee from there?” I ask Cynthia.
“Yep, I’m down with bein
g in control of the cream and sugar.”
Unfortunately, the stations are farther down than we thought, so we lose some time, but after we stretch our backs and Maggie and Archie use the bathroom, we climb back in the car and head back toward the interstate with a cup full of cream and sugar for Cynthia. I really can’t wait to sleep in my own bed. We pass by a house that has a lit-up neon sign that reads Psychic Readings. It makes me think of a woman I spoke with long ago.
“I remember a friend of mine, Sara,” I say to the girls. “She told me about this psychic lady who worked with her. She walked by her desk one day and saw a photo of her husband.
“‘Are you happy?’ she’d asked Sara.
“‘Yeah,’ she’d replied. And then the lady started telling her crazy stuff about her husband. Turned out, he was a nut, and she eventually left him. I had always thought he was odd. You know how you just get a feeling about people sometimes?
“Well, anyway, I’d said, ‘Maybe I should give you a photo of Travis to give to her. See what she says.’ I did, and Sara showed it to her. She then called me and told me the lady said, ‘He is so in love with her. He would do anything for her. She’s going to be happier than she has ever been, but there is something looming over them that has to do with his throat.’
“I said, ‘Yeah, we’ve been going to this small-time doctor because Travis doesn’t have insurance, but he hasn’t done anything.’”
“Oh, that’s weird how she knew about his throat bothering him. I’ve always wanted to see a psychic,” Cynthia says.
“Those kinda people freak me out,” Maggie throws in. “I don’t think you’re supposed to know the future.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, but sometimes they bring you peace of mind.”
“And sometimes they tell you shit you’re better off not finding out.”
“Anyway,” Cynthia says with an eye roll, “where were you?” I look away from the rearview and smirk. “I believe I was
going to tell you about Labor Day weekend before Travis started going to that doctor. It was one of the best times we all had as a family. We ended up going to my sister Sophia’s house in Indiana. Travis and I took my car, and the kids came a day after. Now, even though Travis was forty-nine, he was still the same Travis, and he still liked to smoke grass and drink beer.”
“You know if they got any pot here?” he asks me as he tosses his cigarette into the fire pit. I can tell fall is in the air, and I’m grateful for this warm fire. Sophia overhears him.
“My son Ryan does, but don’t let my other son Ethan know about it. He’ll have a fit. Come on,” she says, and we get up.
“William,” Travis calls him over as we’re walking toward the house.
“Yeah?” he says.
Travis coughs and rubs his throat. “Wanna come hit this with us?” he says after he clears it. William looks back at Elizabeth.
“Baby,” he says, and Elizabeth walks over. “Let’s go.”
“You still got that cough,” I say to Travis. He’s been doing that since our ride home from Ft. Pierce.
“Yeah, just a dry throat. I can’t seem to get rid of it.”
“Maybe we need to get it checked out,” I reply.
“Nah, it’ll go away.” He gives me a wink as Sophia grabs her son out of the room.
“They wanna smoke,” she whispers. Ryan looks back at his friends and Ethan. Ethan has a game controller in his hand and stares straight at the TV, ignoring us. Ryan signals one of his friends to come on.
We sneak around the house, and I giggle because this is ridiculous. We are hiding from a teenager, but somehow it makes me feel like a teenager, and the sweet nostalgia has me clutching Travis’ hand and whispering I love you in his ear before we all get stoned.
“Time passed by in our little love shack. Travis and I enjoyed late nights talking while the kids went out and had their fun. Sometimes they’d come home arguing up a storm, and I’d want to go in there so bad, but Travis would say, ‘Leave them be. They’ll work it out. They always do.’ Still, I couldn’t stand arguing. I’d lived through so much of it over the years. But he was right. They always worked it out, and within minutes we’d hear them laughing and cutting up again.
“We had so many good times in that little trailer. Travis always had the front door wide open, Guns N’ Roses blaring through the whole house, and a fire outside in the yard. We’d go visit his sisters and brother, too, and that’s just what they all did. Bonfires, drinks, and grass.
“As time passed, I noticed Travis’ throat situation wasn’t getting any better. If anything, it was getting worse. I grew more and more concerned, and the night came where he finally did also. We went to the emergency room at two in the morning. By this time, it was November. The leaves were changing quickly, and the weather became super chilly.
“I’ve never been a fan of fall. The plants and trees die away, and the weather turns cold. I hate being cold, but sadly, the weather and the dying plants were about to be the least of my worries.”
_____
November 20th
We sit in the tiny white room waiting for the nurse to come back with the X-rays. This is the first time he’s had them done. That doctor he’s been going to hasn’t done shit.
“I’ll sure be glad when we figure this mess out,” Travis says.
“Me, too.”
He smiles and reaches over to grab my hand, pulling me up onto his lap. I laugh. “They could come in here any minute.”
“Let them come.” He presses his lips to mine, and then we hear a loud knock on the door. I scramble out of his hold as he chuckles. “Come in,” he says.
A little guy walks in with a smile on his face. “Well, the good news is it isn’t cancer,” he states. “Because cancer doesn’t hurt.”
I look over at Travis and smile. “That’s great news.”
“Yeah,” the nurse replies. “But we still aren’t sure what’s going on. We suggest you go to an ear, nose, and throat doctor.” He hands Travis a card. “This is the one we recommend.”
We leave the ER at four a.m. I’m exhausted and so is Travis. We walk into the house and hear the hum of Elizabeth and William’s fan, signaling that they are asleep, so we head back to our room. The glow of the bedside lamp illuminates the small bedroom we share, and I flop down onto the mattress.
“Oh, I’m glad I’m off work tomorrow, but I do have to clean the office.”
“One day you won’t have to clean all of those offices,” Travis says. “You deserve a break, and I’m going to make sure of that.” He takes off his shoes and lies down beside me.
“I don’t care how many offices I have to clean as long as I can keep coming home to you.”
He smiles that Travis Cole smile. “Let’s finish what I started at the ER.”
____
We arrive at Dr. Blackwell’s office a week later. It’s cold, and we hurry inside to check in. We only have to wait a little while before the nurse calls us back. She asks Travis a few questions and then leaves us when the doctor walks in.
“Mr. Cole,” he greets, reaching his hand out. “I’m Dr. Blackwell.” Travis stands and shakes the doctor’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Doc. Wish it was under different circumstances,” Travis replies. I kinda smile, because he does.
“So, your throat’s been giving you some trouble,” he says.
“Yeah, it’s been hurting for a while now.”
“I see you smoke and drink,” the doctor says as he washes his hands and then grabs his light.
“Yeah, man,” Travis agrees, giving me a sideways glance.
“Open up for me.” Dr. Blackwell clicks on his light. Travis complies, and the doctor peers down his throat. He then stands back and shuts the light off. “It’s cancer,” he says nonchalantly, like he didn’t just say the worst word on the fucking planet. My heart. It shatters. My stomach twists, and my pulse quickens. “Squamous cell carcinoma. Throat cancer.”
Travis looks at me, and I see it in h
is eyes. Worry.
“I want to take your tonsils out and see what we’re looking at here,” Dr. Blackwell says. He goes on about other things, but my mind only focuses on Travis, who still looks at me. We speak with our eyes. In mine, I pray he sees hope and it’s all going to be okay. It has to be. We just got back together. It’s going to be fine. In his, I see You okay? Don’t worry. I love you.
We walk out of the office hand in hand, neither of us saying anything. But my mind is screaming, How could this happen? How is this possible? Could the universe really be this cruel?
We make it to the car, and Travis pulls me by the hand, making my chest touch his. He stares into my eyes, and I see it. I see it all. Regret, sorrow, worry.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, looking down. My chest shakes, and my eyes fill with tears. “I would have never come back. I would have never…” His voice trails off as he lifts his head. His golden browns look at mine, and my tears fall. “If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have gotten back in touch with you.”
“Travis,” I cry. “I wouldn’t change a single second. Not one.” He presses his forehead to mine before embracing me, and we stand in the parking lot. Me with a tear-streaked face and unanswered questions. While he stands strong, holding me up, and I can’t help but think it should be the other way around.
Chapter Twenty-Five
November 23, 2005
Today is my birthday. I’m fifty. The big Five-O. I’m a year older, and just the day before yesterday my life was everything I’d always wanted, and now it’s crashing in around me. After I hang up the phone with Travis, I sit in my car and ponder about things. We can’t find each other and him leave me again like this. That just can’t happen. Maybe when he gets his tonsils removed, they’ll see that it’s not that bad. He’ll get treated for it, and it’ll be gone. I mindlessly rub my thumb over the top of my phone as I talk myself up. Yes, that’s what’s going to happen. I shake my head. No need to worry when we haven’t even heard anything yet. It’s going to be fine. It’ll all be fine.
If I'd Known Page 20
