"There you go again. It's not about the price. It's about the fact that you're even paying for anything. I saved for this. I emptied my accounts. I sold my things. I'm not going to need money for much longer–"
"Stop. Please, just stop. I don't want you to think like that. It's not over until it's over, and until you get a second opinion, I'm not accepting that it will ever be over. Until that happens, we're happy and positive, and no one is allowed to mention anything related to you being sick."
"I'm sorry. It's just–" I start to say as my shoulders slump forward, a feeling of defeat washing over me.
"No, Jessa. I don't want to think about it. You, not being here, not being able to see you, to hold you, breaks my heart in a way you can't possibly imagine. It destroys me. Now, this conversation is over. If you want to change hotels, say the word and I'll find us something else."
I've hurt him. I didn't think about how this would affect him personally. It takes a lot for him to show emotion. It's not something he likes to do from what I can tell. To hear him say how much thinking about a life without me hurts him breaks my heart.
"Thank you for this," I say, motioning to the view. "The room is perfect."
"You're more than welcome, Jessa," he says, stepping forward and pulling me into a hug. "Now, I can think of a few ways you can thank me properly."
That's my Jackson. Always thinking about sex. The thing is, I'm happy to oblige. My goal for the rest of this trip is to make him happy. I want him to forget that I ever told him I was sick. I want him to enjoy the journey as much as do. In order to make sure that happens, I need to let everything go.
Money doesn't matter.
Time isn't a priority.
Our destination needs to be an experience, not a check mark on a piece of yellowing paper currently folded into a tiny square hiding in Jackson's wallet.
Chapter 12
Time escaped us yesterday. By the time we were both sated, showered, and ready to explore the city, it was dark outside. We both settled for grabbing a bite to eat and calling it a day. Today, however, is all about seeing the sights.
While I was getting ready, Jackson made a list. A new list. A very long list. He also bought a map from the gift shop in the lobby. Our day is planned from beginning to end.
We can't see it all in one day. There's no way possible. The good thing is that whatever we don't see today will be there tomorrow. We can see it then. Or even the next day if we take our time like I plan to do.
My body is tired today. More so than I have been lately. I'm not going to tell Jackson, though. We're being positive. There's going to be no mention of anything that could possibly drag the mood down. I'll pull through like I always do when I'm faced with a challenge.
"Ready to go?" he asks, pulling his coat on. There's a chill in the air this morning. I found out the hard way when I stepped out onto the balcony barefoot with only a tank top and shorts on.
"As ready as I can be," I say, grabbing my purse off the table.
First up, Piazza San Marco. It's only a short walk from where we're staying, so Jackson promised we could shop on our way there and take a gondola to rest our feet on the way back later today.
Shopping was crossed off my list until I took a peeked at my bank account this morning while Jackson was in the shower. I haven't spent but a few hundred dollars. At first, I thought it was a mistake. Looking deeper, assuming one of the hotels hadn't charged me yet, I couldn't find anything. That's when I realized what was going on.
Digging in my suitcase, I pulled out the checkout invoice that was slipped under my door the day I left the Bahamas. My credit card didn't match. My receipt from New York didn't match either. I didn't bother to look at the Paris receipt or any other receipt I've kept this trip.
Jackson's been paying for everything.
Somehow, he hasn't let me pay for anything aside from souvenirs and little things we've done.
I want to throttle him. Or kiss him. Really, I want to tell him that I know, kiss him, thank him, and then throttle him for going behind my back.
I'm not going to do any of that. Well, I'm sure I'll kiss him at some point in time, but not because of the money. I'll kiss him because I enjoy it, he enjoys it, and I always feel incredible after. My knees go weak and my head gets fuzzy. It's a high, a legal one. That's the best way I can describe it.
As a teenager, a handful of my friends experimented with weed. Knowing that my parents would kill me if I ever smoked anything, I chose not to, but there was one time where I got a contact high. At the time, I felt mellow and my head was fuzzy, just like after I kiss Jackson. After I came down was when I started to freak out about my parents finding out. After that, I stayed away from my friends when they were smoking it.
The first place we stop is an upscale retail store. I'm excited to pick up a few new outfits. Ooh! And maybe that cute purse I see on the wall over there. Shoes. I’ll need a new pair of shoes if we are going to be walking a lot while we're here. I wonder if they even sell shoes.
After locating the shoes, I pick out a few pairs to try on while Jackson browses the racks of men's clothing on the other side of the store. He disappears into a fitting room while I wait for the clerk.
We meet back up an hour later, both with our hands full of clothes. I'm surprised he picked up so many things. Thinking ahead, he also snagged a rolling suitcase for all our new items. That's going to come in handy as soon as we leave the store unless he wants to carry around a bunch of shopping bags. I'm guessing he doesn't.
Stuffing everything inside the suitcase, I'm surprised there's plenty of room left. I'm sure, by the end of our shopping spree, it will be a challenge to close. At least, I hope so.
We move from shop to shop, buying everything we want from clothing to gifts for friends and family. The room that was left in the suitcase is gone before we're done. While I snag us a table at a cafe for lunch, Jackson takes everything back to the hotel so we can enjoy the rest of our afternoon without carting our purchases around with us.
While waiting for him to return, I browse the menu, picking out a few things I think I might like. I need to try new things. My whole life, I've stuck to eating what I knew I would like. I've never been adventurous when it came to food. I'm going to change that. In fact, I've already started. If it weren't for Jackson, I never would have purchased food from a street vendor. Not in a million years.
After almost an hour, I decide to order food for the both of us. He should have been back by now. Something is obviously keeping him.
Me: Where are you?
Jackson: On my way. Be there in five.
Me: Everything okay?
Jackson: Yes.
He must have been holding his phone in his hand because he replied immediately, which surprised me. True to his word, he busts through the front door of the cafe five minutes later. It looks as if he ran here. He's breathing heavily, and there's a line of sweat glistening on his forehead. When he spots me, he wastes no time making his way to the table. He's a man on a mission. You can see it in his eyes. There's a look of determination in them that makes my heart skip a beat.
"Hey. Sorry that took so long," he apologizes takes the seat across from me.
"What held you up? The hotel's only ten minutes from here."
"I stopped back at the first shop and lost track of time. I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
"You didn't. I ordered for us. It should be here anytime."
"You did?" he asks, surprised. "What are we eating?"
"A little of this, a little of that. You'll see," I tease. The fact is, I'm not sure what I ordered. I mean, I know, but I can't remember.
Eying me suspiciously, Jackson flags down a waiter and orders us a bottle of wine. Just as the first glass is being poured, our food arrives. Thankfully, as the waiter sets each dish on the table, he says the name of the entree. I'm sure this is for Jackson since he wasn't here when I ordered.
For an appetizer, I ordered mussels and clams with toasted br
ead. For Jackson and I to split for lunch, I chose a potato gnocchi with duck sauce and roast suckling pig. He looks pleased with my choices. My stomach growls as each plate is placed on the table in front of us. I hope they taste as good as they look.
As I sit back in my chair, happy and full, our waiter arrives with dessert. I'm not sure how I'm going to make room. It's not a large order of tiramisu, but it'll be just enough to put me in a food coma. Between that and the bottle of wine we've polished off, I'm ready for a nap.
"What's that look on your face?" Jackson asks, catching me off guard.
"I don't know. What look?"
"Your eyes look heavy, but you’re smiling."
"It's the food coma taking over."
"Food coma?"
"Yeah, you know. That point where you're so full that your body demands a nap to recover. A food coma."
Laughing, he doesn't reply immediately. I'm not sure what's so funny. It's not like I made it up. Apparently, Jackson hasn't heard of it before, though.
"That's the best thing I've ever heard," he says between labored breaths.
"Why thank you," I reply, sitting up a little straighter. Not my best idea since now I feel like I want to puke up all that amazing food.
"Do you have room for dessert?"
"I'll make room," I say, reaching for my fork–also not a good idea as I've now folded my stomach in half. Sitting back quickly, I say, "Or maybe I need a minute."
"Should we take it to go? We could always eat and walk. We're not going to see everything we wanted to today, but we can walk around and make a plan for tomorrow if you want."
"That sounds perfect."
Jackson settles the bill. I begin to object, but I realize it's not worth it. We could have the money conversation a billion times over and his point of view woouldn’t change. One of us has to give in and it looks like it's going to be me.
Standing, Jackson extends his hand to help me out of my chair. Smiling, I let him. My stomach feels like it did when I was nine months pregnant. My father would help me out of the recliner so I didn't have to push myself up. There came a point when I couldn't anymore. That's how my stomach feels now. If I had to push myself up and out of this chair, I would be embarrassed.
With a tiny bag in hand, we walk out into the crisp afternoon air. There's a lot left for us to see today. Our big plans are now a little smaller, but we have tomorrow. That's something I don't think I've ever been thankful for before. Tomorrow. One more day. Another chance to do something.
In the big scheme of things, it's something everyone should be thankful for. We never know when it might end, when tomorrow won't come. It's not promised to any of us. It's not a guarantee that it will happen. One day you might be fine, the next you might be gone.
That's how it happened for me. Tuesday morning, I wasn't feeling well. Wednesday, I went to work and felt worse. Friday, when I returned from my business trip, I went to the doctor. That's the day my entire world changed.
I wasn't just sick, I was dying.
At some point, tomorrow wasn't going to come.
At best, I had a year. At worst, three to six months.
The doctor was candid with me, and I appreciated that. I've always been a facts girl. Either I was going to survive, or I wasn't. This wasn't something I had control over. It wasn't going to disappear no matter how hard I tried to wish it away, no matter how hard I prayed to be healed.
Right now, I have tomorrow. I've felt fine for the last few months as if nothing is actually wrong with me. My brain is still functioning, but there are some signs it's starting to become affected by the tumor. As much as I wish I could ignore them, I can't. My memory is starting to go. It's hard for me to remember little details, the names of certain things.
Scary is the only way to describe it. I'm scared, but I'm trying not to show it. When my memory fails me, I push through, act as if nothing is wrong. There will come a point in time when it will happen more often than not and I won't be able to ignore it any longer. My only hope is that this trip is over before that happens.
When I go–because, as much of an optimist as I am, I know it will happen–I want to be home, with my parents and with Alex. I want to be with my family.
Until that day comes, when fate steps in and my time is up, I'm going to enjoy every moment. With Jackson along for the ride, it's not hard to accomplish. It almost feels like we're racing the clock, but in reality, we're chasing it.
"Get out of your head, Jessa," Jackson says as he pulls me to a stop. When my only response is looking down at the ground, he continues. "Today is to be celebrated. Tomorrow, too."
"How do you know what I'm thinking about?"
"It's written all over your face."
"No, it's not," I protest.
"So... your brow is normally etched with concern? Your lips are always turned down in a frown? Your eyes glaze over and tears form in the corners when you’re happy?"
No, but I won't admit that aloud.
"We've talked about this. Find the good in each day. Celebrate what's in front of you. The rest will work itself out. You claim you were given a death sentence. I think there's more that we can do, and we will. Once you're ready to end this journey, another will begin. It won't be as much fun, but it will be worthwhile in the end. I promise."
"You can't promise me anything, Jackson. That word means nothing to me. Promises were meant to be broken." There's a hint of anger in my voice. I'm not upset with him, but it's there anyway. I didn't even realize how I sounded until he stepped back a little. "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to get upset. I'm not upset. I swear."
Pulling me into his body, Jackson wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. The longer he holds on, the more emotional I feel. It's as if his body is attempting to heal mine. The strength of his love is amazing. I can feel it radiate off him. If only that could save me. I would be able to live two lifetimes.
"Why don't we find a nice place to sit and nibble on this?" he whispers in my ear. I hear him shaking the bag behind my back.
"Sounds good," I mumble.
There's a fountain across the plaza from us. Heading toward it, Jackson takes my hand in his and gives it a squeeze. He's always trying to comfort me, even when I'm unaware it will help. Right now is no exception. Knowing he's here for me, to support me, helps push away the negative thoughts. For now at least.
Handing me a spoon once we're seated on the ledge of the fountain, Jackson pulls the delicious dessert from the bag. Our waiter transferred it to a disposable container, causing it to fall apart slightly, but I can't imagine it will impact the taste. I'm actually excited to find out.
As I spoon out the first bite, Jackson grabs my hand and directs the spoon into his mouth. His eyes close, and he moans loudly as I pull the spoon away from him. Just as I'm about to attempt to get a taste for myself, he steals the spoon from my hand, grabs the tiramisu, and turns his back to me.
"I don't think you'll like it," he claims.
"Liar. Give me a bite. Please," I beg.
Looking over his shoulder at me, I turn my lips down in a pouting motion and give him my best puppy dog eyes. This didn’t work the last time I tried it. In fact, he said I looked constipated. Let’s hope I don’t look that way this time. His mouth inches up on one side as if he's thinking really hard about his decision before he turns his back on me again.
I'm ready to fight for my piece of the yummy goodness with promises of sexual favors when he slips the spoon in my open mouth. Damn, he's sneaky. I didn't see him turn around. I didn't have time to react to him shoving the spoon in my face. I certainly didn't have enough time to barter food for sex.
As my lips close around the spoon, my eyes close. I understand why Jackson was moaning. This is the best tiramisu I've ever had. It's so good I'm tempted to stop and get another order on our way back to the hotel. Actually, that's not a bad idea. I'm thinking it would make a great late night snack.
"It's good, right?"
"It's amazin
g. We need more for later," I reply, opening my mouth as he offers me another bite.
"I can make that happen. I bet it'll taste even better when I lick it off you."
My skin tingles in excitement, goosebumps making an appearance. Thankfully, my arms are covered so Jackson can't see the effect he has on me.
"I guess we shall see."
Judging by the look on his face, Jackson is looking forward to it. Me? I'm looking forward to it, too. I look at it this way... If I must go, I might as well go out happy, doing something that I enjoy. Sex with Jackson is something I most definitely enjoy. It's at the top of the list of things I would do over and over again just for fun. Until my day comes, I'm going to enjoy him as much as possible, as many ways as possible, whenever possible. I hope he's okay with that.
Chapter 13
Our second full day in Venice was spent walking the city and seeing the sights. We visited the palace where one of the James Bond movies was shot. Jackson, once again, introduced me to his viewpoint on modern and classic art. Museums, palaces, fountains, and other historic landmarks were visited, explored, and marked off Jackson's list.
We still have so much to see, but so little time. Jackson found a way to make it all happen a little quicker, though. And, because it's so awesome, I added it to the list.
#20 Tour Venice on a Vespa scooter
He won't let me drive, but that's okay. I get to hold onto him as tight as I want while he drives us from place to place. This also saves me a ton of energy. After the second day walking through town, I was worn out. So much so we spent our third day in bed so I could rest. Not that I got much sleep.
The hotel delivered breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Between meals, Jackson drew me a bath, we mapped out our next few days in Venice, and Jackson kept me naked so he could have his way with me. It was one of the best days we've spent together so far. I learned more about Jackson, his family, and his goals yesterday than I have this entire trip. Oh, and the sex was amazing. Every time.
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