Fragile Bonds

by Sloan Johnson

  “It was good,” I blatantly lie. It’s a safe response because that has become my standard answer when she calls the night after I start a new assignment. I’m not about to set her off on a tirade by telling her who hired me this time. She was never Xavier’s number one fan, and after the night he left me because I went to an adult party after telling him I was staying home to work on my thesis, he became public enemy number one in her eyes.

  I understand where she’s coming from because she was the friend left to pick up the pieces. She drove to the house when I called her, helped me load the few things I couldn’t live without into the back of her Rav4 and moved me back into the apartment we shared from the beginning of our sophomore year until Xavier bought the house, saying it was the beginning of the rest of our lives. She’s also the one who crawled into my bed in the middle of the night for months when I woke up crying because I had another dream about him.

  “You sound off tonight,” she observes. I guess I’m not a very good liar. Either that or she knows me well enough to see through my crap. “Mel, I love you, but I seriously wonder if you’re insane for doing what you do. Every case takes a toll on you and you’re going to burn out. So, what is it about this one that’s getting to you?”

  The microwave shuts off and I try to juggle my phone, wine glass and the plate that I’m pretty sure is burning off my fingerprints so I can finally kick back and relax. Brody, my Boston Terrier, jumps onto the couch, staring at my food. Realizing I’m not sharing, he curls up next to me and goes to sleep.

  “You know I’m not going to quit, Stacey.” I put an obscenely large bite of food in my mouth, buying time before I have to say anything else. Until now, I didn’t think about the fact that I skipped lunch today. It was easier for me to stay sequestered until it was time to come home rather than risk having to see him again. If I can’t work up the courage to spend time in the kitchen when Xavier is home, I might have to start stuffing snacks in my bag each morning.

  “And Alyssa is one of the best clients I’ve had.” As long as you ignore the fact that she’s married to Xavier. The fact that I like her as much as I do surprises me. Since the moment I opened my assignment email, I imagined all the reasons I wouldn’t enjoy working with Alyssa. After all, who wants to meet the woman who has pledged her life to the man you thought, at one point, you would marry and have a family with? Even when I walked into Alyssa’s room, I viewed her as the enemy, but she has a personality that I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to hate. “She’s snarky like we are, requires almost nothing from me and seems to have come to terms with what’s happening to her.”

  “But?” Stacey presses. I should have known better than to answer the phone. I tip back my glass, wishing I had filled it to the top. Or figured out a way to carry the bottle into the living room with me.

  “But nothing! Look, I have to get going. Alyssa’s husband has to leave early tomorrow morning and asked me if I would mind starting at six.” If I didn’t know better, I would think he asked me to come so early as some sadistic punishment. Xavier knows I don’t do mornings.

  “I hope they’re paying you extra for that,” Stacey laughs, knowing how torturous it’s going to be for me to roll out of bed so early. “Anyway, I guess give me a call tomorrow night.”

  She hangs up, leaving me to my freezer burned chicken alfredo and cheap red wine. After I’m done eating, I decide to be a responsible adult and go to bed. The alternative is drinking myself into a stupor, trying to forget the past, and that will only make my five o’clock alarm even more difficult to face. I turn off the television and lights, heading to bed before midnight for the first time since I can remember.

  “Daddy, is Miss Melanie coming again tomorrow morning?” Jacob asks as I get him ready for his bath. I look down at my little man, pulling him tight against my chest. All afternoon, he kept asking when Melanie was going to be done taking care of Alyssa so she could spend time with him. I tried explaining to him that Melanie is not there for us, that she’s taking care of his mother, but his four year old mind wasn’t having any part of that.

  “Yes, Jacob. Miss Melanie is going to be here almost every day for a while,” I respond as I test the water temperature. Knowing my luck, I’ll give Jacob second degree burns and have CPS called in. Until very recently, I haven’t been what you would call a hands-on father, but now I don’t see that I have much of a choice. Alyssa offered to give Jacob his bath, but I don’t want her overdoing it. She needs to put every ounce of energy she has into fighting the leukemia. It’ll take a miracle at this point, but I’m not ready to face the likelihood that there will be no divine intervention for her.

  “She’s really pretty,” Jacob giggles as he climbs into the water. He starts sinking his toy boats in the water, squealing in delight as they resurface on their own.

  “Yes, Jacob. Miss Melanie is very pretty,” I respond. There’s no sense in disputing him because he’s telling the truth. If it’s possible, she’s more beautiful now than she was when she was younger. I spent as little time as possible in Alyssa’s room while Melanie was here because I didn’t want to see the way her mocha eyes shimmer when she laughs or notice how graceful her neck looked when she pulled her dark hair into a messy pile on top of her head.

  If it was any other woman on the planet, I would have no problem noticing those things, even in Alyssa’s presence. One of the traits I love the most about my wife is that she doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body when it comes to such things. She and I used to walk around the city, pointing out attractive people to one another. Male or female didn’t matter, we both appreciate the beauty of the human form. With Melanie, the guilt of not telling Alyssa about the past won’t allow me to look more than necessary because Alyssa spent too much time already living in Melanie’s shadow.

  “When are you going to realize I’m not the same as the bitch that hurt you?” Alyssa screams, slamming her car door before stomping into the house. This isn’t a new fight for us and it’s getting to be more frequent as she gets closer to her due date. “Just because she walked out on you doesn’t mean I’m going to!”

  I follow her inside, dropping today’s purchases inside the door. If we hadn’t gone to the mall, maybe Alyssa wouldn’t have stepped into the jewelry store. She’s done this a few times now, pointing out diamond rings and wedding bands that she likes, asking my opinion on them. I’m not stupid, I know she’s hoping I will marry her before the baby is born, but I can’t do that. When I marry, it will be for love and I don’t love Alyssa.

  “Stop being a bitch,” I yell, pouring myself three fingers of whiskey, tossing it back quick enough that it burns on the way down. I refill my glass and head toward my office.

  “A bitch?” Alyssa screams, throwing a bottle of shampoo at me. I reach for the bottle as it flies through the air, batting it enough to slow it down so we don’t have shampoo splattered across the hardwood floors. “You think it’s easy for me, knowing that I’m good enough for you to fuck but not good enough for you to marry? And now, I’m fucking stuck with you for the rest of my goddamned life because of a faulty condom! So yeah, maybe I am being a bitch, but only because I want my child to grow up in a home with a mother and father who are married!”

  “Good for you, but I would rather my child have two parents who are sane and able to tolerate one another than be raised around this,” I scream, waving my hand in the space between us. It was a mistake for me to offer Alyssa the guest bedroom. I felt responsible when she told me she’s pregnant and asked her to live with me.

  “Daddy, I’m done,” Jacob whines, tugging on my t-shirt with his wet hands. Looking down at him, I’m overcome with emotion, thinking about what a blessing he is. I never wanted kids, but now I can’t imagine what my life would be like without him. Wrapping him tightly in his dinosaur towel, I toss Jacob over my shoulder as we walk down the hall. “Can we go snuggle with Mommy for a little while tonight?” he asks as I zip his flannel pajamas. Tears threaten to fill my eyes, knowing
how fleeting these moments will be in the near future.

  I promised myself I wouldn’t think about what happens after she’s gone. I can tell myself all day and night that she’s going to beat the cancer this time, but I’m not a stupid man. The doctors diagnosed her as terminal two weeks ago, which means it’s just a matter of time now. I scoop my son off his bed, holding him tightly, as I carry him across the hall for story time with his mother. For now, I need to focus on helping him create a lifetime of memories.

  “Hey, Buddy! Were you a good boy for Daddy?” Alyssa asks, holding out her arms to hold Jacob. Seeing how her face lights up every time he’s close to her feels like a knife in my chest. She has been an amazing mother since the moment he was born. It’s not fair to either of them that the bond they share will be severed. And Jacob is so young, I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before the memories of her begin to fade.

  “Yeah, but Daddy didn’t wash my hair tonight,” Jacob says, smiling. Alyssa looks at me, shaking her head. What can I say, he hates getting his head wet and I didn’t feel like fighting with him. I have no doubt that Alyssa would have been pulling herself out of bed at the first sound of commotion, coming in to save the day. “Will you read me a story?”

  Alyssa reaches for the short stack of books beside the bed, telling Jacob to pick two. As she pulls the covers over both of them, I’m torn between pulling a chair beside the bed, turning this into family time or leaving them to have some mother-son time. I opt for the latter, knowing I will have plenty of bedtimes with Jacob in the future. When I turn to look at them before closing the door, Alyssa blows me a kiss and I have to quickly leave before I fall apart.

  I walk into the living room, my hand wrapped tightly around the box in my front pocket. I told Melanie to meet me in here and I’m pleased to see that she has obeyed. Flames from the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the walls. In the center of the room, the epicenter of my life kneels, completely naked, waiting for me.

  “You have pleased me,” I say in a low voice, standing less than a foot away from her. “Are you wondering why I asked you to meet me in here tonight?”

  Melanie’s eyes never leave the floor. I have faith that they will remain there until I give her permission to look at me. “Yes, Sir,” she responds confidently. I smile at her honesty. There was a time, when we first got together, when she would give me the answer I wanted. Now, I know she trusts me enough to speak her mind.

  “Without trust, there is nothing,” I say, reaching down, tipping her chin far enough so she is looking into my eyes. “You’ve given me your trust, which is everything. This heart is a symbol of my love for you. I cherish your gift every moment of every day and promise that I will do everything I can to keep from hurting you. You, Melanie Elaine Erickson, are the world to me. I love you.”

  I can see tears welling in her eyes. Before moving to stand behind her, I wipe the dampness from her cheeks with my thumb. I pull Melanie’s hair to the side, instructing her to hold it. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a silver heart with two gemstones in the center. Once I have secured the clasp behind her neck, I reach for a small mirror I placed on the mantle earlier, holding it so she can see my gift.

  “It’s beautiful, thank you.” Her eyes stay fixed on the pendant reflected back at her.

  “Xavier, wake up,” Alyssa whispers, shaking my arm. I wipe the sleep from my eyes, checking the time on my phone. It’s been five hours since I left Jacob and Alyssa to have some private time. “You’re never going to be able to walk tomorrow if you sleep out here.”

  “What are you doing up?” I ask, patting the cushion next to me, inviting Alyssa to have a seat. Seeing as I have to be up in a few short hours, I doubt I’ll be going back to sleep and I selfishly want time with my wife. She sits, resting her head on my shoulder as I reach for the fireplace remote.

  If there was a way I could go back five years and treat her the way she deserves to be treated, I would do it in a heartbeat. I was such an ass to her, I have no clue why she stuck around. Actually, I do. She stayed for Jacob’s sake, begging me to marry her until I finally said yes. It makes me sick to think that I treated her like nothing but a meaningless fuck toy for so long.

  Do not go there. Enjoy the time you have.

  “When you spend most of the time lying in a crappy hospital bed, your schedule tends to get screwed up,” she laughs. I look over and see my wife smiling at me. How in the world can she live with the fact that she’s dying and still be so happy all the time?

  “Fair enough,” I say with a shrug. “How are you feeling?”

  Alyssa rolls her eyes, letting out a sharp sigh. “Like I could really go for a steak right about now,” she says sarcastically. I wish she would understand that I will always ask how she’s feeling. Whether we exchanged vows for the right reasons or not, I fully intend to keep them, and that means doing everything in my power to take care of her. “Seriously, whose idea was this stupid ass tube in my gut?”

  She lifts her shirt, exposing the tubing coming out of her abdomen. The doctors inserted it because they said her organs are starting to fail. I’m pretty sure she’s still upset with me for insisting that she go through that procedure. While she can still eat, it’s going to get progressively more difficult for her body to digest food and the doctors suggested this as a way to make sure she’s not malnourished. “I look like some sort of freak now,” she says, staring down at her stomach.

  “You look beautiful,” I assure her. After brushing a stray hair off her forehead, I run my fingers softly down her cheeks. She leans into my touch and we sit quietly holding one another. When Alyssa falls back to sleep, I ease myself off the couch, picking her up to take her back to her bed. I wince when I feel the differences in her body. She’s lighter than she has ever been and I can feel her bones poking into my chest as I make my way down the hall.

  It’s not until she’s tucked in and comfortable that I retire to our bedroom. Finally alone, I don’t try to stop the tears from falling. I’m unaccustomed to feeling so out of control. Everyone in my life knows that I am the one who will find a way to fix whatever comes along. Now, my wife is dying and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it. When the alarm goes off, I drag myself off the mattress and into the shower. There are no more tears. They’ve been expelled from my body, leaving behind an emptiness that I know will only get worse in the coming weeks.

  Chapter 3

  For most people, the holidays are the happiest time of year. Personally, I’ve grown to hate them. Too many people obsess over finding the perfect gift for their loved ones, completely ignoring the fact that time is always the best gift of all. I’ve been reminded of this every year since I started caring for the terminally ill. This year marks the fourth in a row that I am helping a family prepare for their last Christmas together.

  “Mel, can we go shopping this afternoon?” Alyssa has been doing well this week. She’s not as run down and even has some color in her cheeks. This morning, she asked me to help her decorate for Christmas. Xavier grumbled the entire time he was carrying boxes up from the basement, but I know him well enough to know he wasn’t truly upset. Once we had everything in the living room and Alyssa settled on the couch where she could tell me what to do, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before heading off to work.

  It’s getting a little bit easier every day to see the two of them together. The first two weeks, my heart ached every time I saw him or even caught a whiff of his woodsy cologne when I walked into the room. Now, it’s impossible for me to hold onto the pain when I see how devoted he is to his wife and son.

  “Sure, as long as you don’t push me too hard,” I say, looking down from the top of the ladder. Alyssa gives me the thumbs-up that she’s finally satisfied with the placement of the star on the tree and I climb down. “After all, you might have been sitting around all day, but this lady I work for is a real slave driver,” I laugh, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand.

  I know I’ve allo
wed myself to get too close to Alyssa, but she has an infectious personality and we really clicked. And most of the time, it’s easy to forget that she’s dying because she refuses to act like she’s sick.

  “Yeah, rumor on the street is that she’s a real bitch,” Alyssa replies, reaching out her hand so I can help her stand.

  “She’s not so bad,” I play along. “But I think she might have a serious Christmas obsession.” I’m not sure there’s a single horizontal surface that hasn’t been infested by the holiday spirit. Not my thing, but then again, it’s not about me.

  “You know, I never used to like decorating,” she confesses as we walk down the hall to her room. “But admit it, if you lived in a house like this, you’d decorate too.”

  And, so much for being over the pain. I bite down on my tongue, hard, so I won’t be tempted to either cry or tell Alyssa that I used to live in this exact house. The closer we get, the guiltier I feel because I’m lying to her. Not directly, of course, but I have to carefully skirt around little comments such as this.

  “Yeah, you have a point.” I close the door behind us and go to the window overlooking the backyard. While Alyssa gets dressed, I think about the first time I saw the play set in the back corner of the lot.

  “I’m going to see if I can sell that monstrosity,” Xavier says, pointing to the wooden play set. We’ve never talked about having kids, but now that we have our own home, I can almost picture a little brown-haired boy or girl running through the grass to climb to the top of the slide.

  “Why would you sell it?” I ask. It seems a shame to get rid of it since I know how expensive a structure like that is to build. “It’s not hurting anything sitting there.”