I tell myself this over and over as I get out of the car and make my way into the hellhole. I open the glass doors and turn the corner.
“Happy birthday!” the whole office shouts. Even my boss. I’m stunned, and then I see the sign above my office door.
Here’s to fifty! Your best year yet!
And I can’t control it. I burst into tears and cover my face. Stella runs over to me. “Charlotte, what’s wrong?” She grabs my shoulders and urges me to walk, so I do straight to my office. I sit down, and she shuts the door.
“What is it?” my best friend, the woman who stands by me, asks with bunched eyebrows. Unlike my family, who isn’t speaking to me because of my recent life choices. My eyes go to my desk in front of me. A photo of the kids from their first Christmas together, little whatnots that say positive things about life. I sigh and stare at the photo of him. My vision blurs, and tears fall down my cheeks. I just don’t understand.
“Charlotte?” Stella says. I look up at her, my chest heavy with pain.
“It’s cancer,” I say, forcing the word out.
“Cancer?” She shifts her head back in disbelief.
“Yes, we just found out Travis has cancer.” I grab a tissue from my desk.
“What kind of cancer?”
“Throat.” My voice cracks, and I shake my head as more tears fall.
“My God,” she breathes. I put my face into my hands, asking God why? Why would He let this happen? Someone knocks on the door.
“Girls, we need to get back to work,” our boss says.
Stella rolls her eyes. “Fucking prick,” she mumbles. She walks over and sits down. “We’re going to get through this,” she says. “Travis will get through this, because you’re my best friend and you deserve to be happy. I fucking demand it.”
____
Travis has the surgery a week after my birthday, and as soon as they get the results, we are called into the surgeon’s office. We sit, waiting, nervous, praying, and then the doctor comes in.
She pulls up her little black stool and takes a seat while we both stare at her.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “There isn’t much we can do. It’s too far-gone. With chemo and radiation, he probably has a fifty-fifty chance.”
My eyes go to the floor, and I shake my head in disbelief, and still, my brain keeps saying, He’s gonna be okay. This is going to be okay.
“We’ll fight it,” Travis says. “I’ll fight this motherfucker.”
She nods and says, “I’ll set you up with an oncologist.”
____
“So, she did, and we got him on Medicaid. He started seeing the doctor for radiation and chemo every week. His family was a Godsend. His half-sister and he were never close, and like I already mentioned, one of his older brothers had passed, but his two sisters and Byron took turns staying with us because I still had to work and clean offices.
“They would take him to his appointments when I wasn’t able and stay with him at the house just to keep him company. But regardless of our shitty situation, we still enjoyed each day the best we could, and I swear to you, if you didn’t know he was sick, you would think he was just as fine as anyone without cancer. Travis acted the same, his eating changed, of course, and he lost weight, but he smiled like he was gonna live forever. He was the strongest man I’d ever known.
“On Christmas Day, we four sat in the living room and gave out gifts. I recorded everything on my camera back then. I’m not sure why, though. I guess maybe deep inside somewhere I wasn’t so optimistic. I wanted every moment captured to look back on. Just in case, ya know?
“That January, Travis had to have surgery for a feeding tube, because he had gotten to where he couldn’t eat as well. The radiation was killing his throat, and he already didn’t have much of an appetite, but he was still able to eat if he chose. This just made it to where he didn’t have to.”
The girls are quiet as I tell all of this. Just listening to my every word and soaking it up. “I know this all sounds terrible,” I tell them. “But I promise you, we had a ton of good days.”
“I just don’t know how you dealt with it,” Maggie says, reaching over and touching my hand. “I knew something happened, but I had no idea it was all of this, Charlotte.”
“I never told you.” I shrug. “But about the good times. We traveled to his sister’s house in Waycross. The kids, too. We grilled out, sat by the fire, and listened to them all tell stories. Everyone smoked and drank, and I marveled at how much they all loved their brother, but like I said, Travis Cole was a likable person…not just likable, though. Travis Cole was a man to love…”
____
February 2005
We sit around the warm fire as Travis strums his guitar. Everyone sings along softly to the Allman Brothers’ song he’s chosen to play, and the fire crackles and pops in the afternoon sun. Elizabeth mindlessly stares at it, and William watches Travis’ hands. His brother and sisters laugh and enjoy their drinks, and I just relish being beside him. Nothing is better than family. To me, there’s no greater joy than being surrounded by people who love you for just being you, and I know this man beside me loves me for everything I am and everything I’m not.
He sets the guitar down a few moments later and drinks his non-alcoholic beer. He said he just has to have the taste even if he can’t have the fun part anymore. The alcohol burns his throat now, and he’s also given up cigarettes. But not his weed. That helps with the pain anyway, so I don’t argue. His niece sits in a plastic chair across from us, as her cousin sits beside her.
“Uncle Travis, have you ever built a porch?” she asks him.
“Yes, several,” he replies.
“Have you ever got arrested?” she asks. He looks over at me with a small smirk, still as handsome as he was when we were teenagers. He will always, always take my breath away.
“Only a couple of times,” he replies with a smile.
“Ever raced a motorcycle?” the other one asks Travis.
“Once, and I almost killed myself,” he says, chuckling.
“What about you, Ms. Charlotte. You ever raced a motorcycle?”
I laugh as I hold the camcorder. “Can’t say that I have.”
The kids grow tired of playing twenty-one questions, and they get up from their chairs, leaving behind notebook paper with scribblings and crayons with the wrappers torn off. I do a take around the yard before landing on Travis. He looks at me and smiles, giving me a wink at the same time.
“I love you,” I tell him from behind the camera.
“I love you, too,” he says softly.
____
April 2006
I walk in as Travis is putting his shirt on. It’s doctor day, and for a moment I just stare. I haven’t realized how much weight he’s lost until now. His ribs are showing, and his stomach is sunken in. He looks up at me, and I smile. “You about ready?” I ask.
“As ready as I’m gonna be,” he replies, sliding on his blue jean shirt. He gives me a wink. I walk over, and just because I can, I kiss him softly. He pulls back a tad, and I stare into the same golden brown eyes I’ve always loved.
“I wish I could marry you,” he says, and it breaks my heart. We know that’s not possible. If we get married, he loses his Medicaid, and he can’t do that.
“One day,” I say.
He nods and says, “Well, let’s get on with it.”
We’re going in for a PET scan, and it’s either unclear news or bad. I feel like that’s the only news you get from these kinds of places. But we stay hopeful, and I keep thinking, It’s all going to be okay.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next day I leave work, and my car won’t go into gear.
“Nothing’s working,” I tell Travis.
“Call a tow truck and get home. We’ll figure it out.”
Turns out, the transmission went out in Black Beauty. To say I’m disappointed would be an understatement. I love that car. We go to the Ford dealership not too lo
ng after that and try to pick me out another one.
“It’s too slow,” I tell Travis. “I want a V8 like Black Beauty.”
“It’s not too slow. You don’t need all that motor. You drive too fast as it is.”
“That’s just the way I drive.”
“I need to know you’re going to be safe.” And I realize what he’s saying. My lip quivers, and I try to swallow the tears that threaten to come up.
I clear my throat. “Okay,” I say softly. “I’ll get this one.”
____
A few days later, the doctor calls and says they need to see us. Travis’ PET scan results are in.
We walk into the room, hand in hand like always, and wait for the news. I pray. God, I pray. Travis kisses my knuckles and tries to keep my mind off of why we are here. He’s always doing that, trying to keep my mind off of the reality of our situation, but I sometimes wonder what his mind is thinking about all of this. I don’t bring it up, though.
When the doctor comes in, I know what she’s going to tell us before she even speaks a word. It is all in her expression. The way her lips are in a firm line but slightly frowning. Her eyes are soft, and she links her hands in front of her resolutely.
“It’s spread.”
I feel as though someone has stabbed me right in the chest. I have trouble finding air, and my whole world collapses right before my eyes. It spread. My mind can’t comprehend this. Spread. We did everything right. We came to the appointments. We did the fucking chemo. Anger and sadness battle each other inside my head. Pain and utter agony wrap around my heart, squeezing the life out of me.
“The chemo isn’t working,” she says regretfully.
Isn’t working. The one thing that’s supposed to help isn’t. I look up at her, and without even thinking, I ask, “How long?”
“Two to four weeks, we’re not sure.” I watch her mouth move as she starts saying things about hospice, and I look over at Travis as it finally hits me. We aren’t going to win.
____
That night, when all the world is quiet and fast asleep, I lie awake beside him. I always relish in the feel of him next to me. I love sliding my feet over and rubbing them up his once strong calves and back down to the heels of his feet, so I do that over and over. I hold his hand while he sleeps, full of meds to help with his pain. I kiss his back, and I breathe him in more than a million times, because I know, one day soon, I won’t get to do it again.
____
I wipe the tears away from my face and stare out the window beside me. Trees pass us by, and I hear Maggie sniff, but none of us say anything. Because there’s nothing to say. It’s sad. And that’s just it. It’s fucking sad.
____
May 2006
It’s Friday evening, and I’m curled up beside him in bed, as we watch nothing important on TV. The small lamp casts a yellow glow in the room, and I look over at the dresser it sits on. Yellow bottles line the top, filled with a different pill for a different problem. I look away and set my eyes on the TV screen, thinking how I missed the good day he was having because I had to work, and that reminds me. “I’ve got to go get Elizabeth,” I tell him.
“Yeah, it’s about that time, isn’t it?” He uncrosses his ankles, only to cross them again. “You know, I want something good to eat.”
I look up at him in shock because he never eats anymore. “Really?”
“Yeah, like Chinese or something.”
“Okay.” I grin, and he gifts me that crooked Travis Cole smile, dimples and all. Even through all this, it’s still there. I lean up and kiss his lips.
“I’ll be back shortly.” I sit up and stand, grabbing my cell phone, before I walk to the door.
“I love you,” I say, turning around.
“I know, baby. I love you.” He gives me a wink. I walk out but look in the mirror, seeing him sitting on our bed. He’s wearing that same blue jean button-down shirt, and he’s resting back on the pillow, closing his eyes. I take a photo with my mind and promise to always keep it.
Once I grab the food, Elizabeth and I head home and talk about her and William. They broke up, but she needed a ride home from work, and I don’t mind because she’s like the daughter I never had.
“I hope y’all work it out,” I tell her as we pull up to her parents’ house.
“Yeah, me, too. Tell Travis I said hey.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Once I park the car in the driveway, I head inside with the food and put it on the counter. “I’m home,” I say in a singsong voice as I walk into our bedroom. He lies on his side, looking at the TV.
“I got your food.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t eat it right now,” he says, looking back at me.
“That’s okay,” I tell him, noticing his mood has changed. It worries me, but I take off my day clothes and grab a quick shower so I can lie with him. I’m just happy to be beside him. I don’t care if he eats the stupid food or not.
____
“He started going downhill quickly after that. They say you get better before you get worse. Guess that explains his great mood,” I say gravely.
____
May 2006
I jump awake and gently place my hand on Travis’ side of the bed. It’s empty, and I see the glow from the bathroom light under the door. Tossing the covers off me, I look at the clock and see it’s the middle of the night.
“Travis?” I call out as I walk around the bed to the bathroom door. It’s cracked, and I can see him on the floor. “Travis.” I open the door, and he stares in front of him, void of emotion.
“Let me help you.”
“Give me a minute. Just give me a minute,” he says, breathless.
“Okay,” I respond worriedly. I put the toilet seat down and sit. My eyes go to the floor, and I say nothing. This is hard for me to see, but as hard as it is for me, I know it has to be even harder for him. Travis Cole has always been a strong man. My bad boy from Ft. Pierce, Florida. But this fucking cancer has stolen his strength. It’s stolen everything.
“Come on. You can’t stay down there,” I plead because I can’t take seeing this anymore. He looks at me and nods.
“Okay,” he says as he reaches for the countertop, gripping onto the edge for support, but I know I’m in this alone. He has nothing left in him. I put my hands under his arms and lift with everything I have. It almost kills my back, but I know it would hurt his pride if I called William for help, so we make it work and he finally stands on weak legs and I get him to the bed. He lies down with a grunt, and I feel so helpless. I pull the covers up over him and kiss his forehead before I walk back to my side and lie down. He doesn’t move, and I don’t sleep.
____
“I don’t think it’s the cancer. I think something else is wrong,” I say to his sister, Ryanne. It’s the next day, and he hasn’t moved since last night’s fall. “He keeps saying he has to use the bathroom, but he can’t.” I’m anything but easy at this moment. My thoughts are running wild, and I just don’t know what to do.
“He may be blocked. He’s on a lot of medication,” she says.
“I’m just worried. I mean, what if this is something they can fix, ya know?” I walk a hole in the floor as I pace back and forth, looking in on him and then back to the living room.
“Let’s call the ambulance,” she says. I lean against the doorframe of our bedroom and watch him sleep. He looks so fragile. He hardly slept last night, and I didn’t get a wink.
“Let’s just wait a little bit,” I say to her. “He’s finally resting.”
The clock on the wall reminds me that hours have gone by, and he isn’t getting any better. I’m getting more and more worried, and I’m ready to call the ambulance.
“I love you,” I say softly, looking down at him and running my fingers over his palm.
I look up when I hear a knock on the door, and Ryanne tells someone to come in. I then hear Elizabeth’s voice, and
I get up from the bed. “I’ll be right back. Elizabeth’s here.” He doesn’t respond, only lies there staring ahead.
“Hey,” I say quietly as I walk out. “Did William call you?”
“Yeah,” she says. “How is he?”
“Not good,” I reply with tears in my eyes. She bites her bottom lip, and I see the tremble in it. Reaching her arms out, she embraces me, and I grip her back. Everything is going to shit, and I hold on for comfort to the only daughter I’ve ever had. When we break apart, we both wipe our cheeks, and I take an unsteady breath. She looks toward our room, and for a moment she peers down. I lean against the wall and cross my arms. My tears are unstoppable; my heart is shattered. I’m broken, this home is broken, and cancer has torn my world to shreds.
I see her swallow, and she steps forward, walking into our bedroom with hesitation. His reflection in the closet door mirror shows him lying across the bed. The look on his face says he isn’t here, but his heart still beats, his lungs still take in air, and as long as that’s happening, I can do the same. We said no to hospice, and I just don’t know what to do right now as I watch her speak to him.
“Travis,” she says with a soft voice. She clears her throat when he doesn’t respond. “When things get better,” she continues, sitting down on the bed, “you and I will get those old fishing rods out. We’ll throw a line down at that pond you, William, and I always talked about visiting but never got around to.” I look up to the ceiling, praying for God to give me some strength.
If I'd Known Page 21
