Chasing Fate

by Rachael Brownell

  The word slips past my lips before I have a chance to sensor myself. Cringing, I wait for him to reply. It's the truth, but he doesn't want to hear it.

  "Well, when you survive this, they won't have much to say, I guess," he replies with confidence behind me.

  Nodding, I let our conversation fade away. Two minutes ago, I was exhausted and ready to fall fast asleep. Now, I'm wide awake and my mind is going a mile a minute. Damn it. If I don't go to sleep now, I'll sleep the entire drive home.

  Jackson's hand moves lower, past my belly and to my thigh. He always knows when I need a distraction, and thankfully, he's happy to provide me with one. Right now, I can't think of anything I'd love more than to make love to my husband.

  As we pull in the parking lot of the apartments, my eyes widen in surprise. My parents’ car is parked in my old spot. They're leaning against it, waiting for us. How did they know when we would be back? Did Jackson call them?

  "Why are your parents here?" he asks, turning off the engine.

  "I don't know. I figured you called them."

  "No. I haven't talked to them at all."

  "That's weird. I told Amber we would be home later tonight. I wonder what they're doing here. Where's Alex?"

  Pushing open my door, I don't wait for him to answer. He doesn't know any more about why they're here than I do.

  "Hey," I say as my mother pulls me in for a hug.

  "We missed you," she replies, squeezing me tighter.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "We were passing through the area and thought we'd stop and see if you were back yet," my father says, pulling me from my mother's arms and into his.

  "Oh! Good timing, I guess."

  "Good to see you, Jackson," I hear my mother say.

  "You, too. Why don't we go inside and I'll make a pot of coffee?" he suggests. When I turn around, he's embracing my mother as he did his own.

  They stay for a little over an hour. We tell them about the last leg of our trip, the wedding, and more about the clinical trial. I can see now that my parents are skeptical, but neither of them voices their opinion. There's a glimmer of hope in my mother's eyes, as well.

  After they leave, Jackson orders us a pizza and runs downstairs to grab our bags from the car. Amber called shortly before we got home, so I shoot her a text, letting her know we arrived safe and that I'll call her tomorrow. I hear Jackson close the front door as I turn on the shower and step under the spray.

  It feels good to be home.

  Our home.

  At least for now.

  Jackson's mentioned buying a house a few times over the last week or so. He wants more room. He wants a yard and a dog. He also wants to get out of the city. That part surprised me. He grew up in a large suburb. It's not downtown Detroit, but it's still rather busy. I figured he'd feel more at home in an area like that. From what he's described to me, he wants the exact opposite.

  Acres of land. Neighbors that you can't see from your front porch. A pond or lake in the back for us to swim in when it's hot outside. A riding lawn mower.

  That made me laugh. Then my thoughts turned a little dirtier. The mental image of Jackson riding a lawn mower in the heat of summer, dripping with sweat. Jumping in our pond naked, just the two of us. Our conversation was cut short when I told him to pull over so we could consummate our marriage for the fifth time.

  Jackson and the pizza are waiting for me when I force myself out of the shower. The image of him dripping with sweat is still running through my brain. Until I see the envelope on the table next to my plate.

  "She said you needed to open it once we were home. I say let’s eat and relax first." Jackson's smiling at me, but I can tell he's nervous.

  Amber's letters were written long before this trip started. Who knows what this one says.

  Taking his advice, Jackson and I eat and cuddle on the couch. The letter is calling to me, but I force myself to wait until he's fast asleep behind me. Once I'm sure I won't wake him when I get up, I slowly creep off the couch, rolling out of his arms and onto the carpet.

  Taking a deep breath, I make my way over to the table, unsure if I'm actually ready to read her letter. No matter what it says, I know she wrote it from the heart, but that's what scares me. Amber's heart knows no limits, especially when it comes to the people she cares about.

  Jessa,

  Yeah! You're home!

  I'm excited even if I'm not there to greet you. I hope you had a wonderful time on your journey, and I hope you found what you were looking for. No matter how much you try to convince me, I know this was never about some stupid list.

  And... You’re welcome.

  You may have been irritated (pissed off) at me when I suggested Jackson go with you, but you will thank me one day. You two belong together. We both saw that before you, and I'm hoping you see it now. I'm hoping he found a way to convince you that you two should be more than just fuck buddies. Yes, I just said that. Don't even try and deny it either.

  So, when you're ready to talk, call me. I want all the details you haven't already given me. By that, I mean the dirty stuff. We should grab a drink or have a girls’ night. No kids. No boyfriends/husbands. Unless you want them to meet, Jackson and Tom. I think they would like each other. Well, maybe. Tom will never admit it, but he's more of a nerd than even you've seen. Think Star Wars meets computer geek meets math enthusiast.

  Anyway, this letter is less about you freaking out because you did it. You made it happen, and you came home in one piece. I'm proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself.

  Now, go have crazy sex with Jackson.

  Love you to bits,

  Amber

  Chapter 23

  Waking up the next morning, I'm disoriented. At first, I don't recognize where I am. After all the traveling we've done, all the different hotels we've stayed in, you would think I'd be excited to wake up in a familiar place.

  Not so much.

  Being back home means the end is near. The journey is almost over. At first, I thought it would end when we got home. The more I think about it, there's still one thing I have to do. One more thing I need to add to the list. One more thing I desire more than anything else. It's more important than the Bahamas or seeing the northern lights.

  My journey won't be over until I check that off the list.

  Speaking of the list, I wonder where it is right now. Does Jackson still have it in his wallet?

  "Morning, wife," Jackson whispers without opening his eyes.

  "Good morning, husband," I reply, playing along. "Do you happen to know where my list went to?"

  "I think it's in my suitcase. Why?"

  "There's one more thing I want to add to it."

  Jackson's eyes pop open. "We just got home."

  "I know. Settle down. We're not going anywhere. You have to trust me."

  "I do, but I'm not sure I can handle another two months away from home. I missed my bed. I missed waking up next to you in my bed. I'm ready for us to be here for a while."

  "We will be. At least for the next week or so, but I'll be back."

  The room goes silent. We haven't talked about California. Not recently, and not logistically. I haven't confessed that I'd rather go alone. I don't think he'll understand that I don't want him to see me like that. He's been supportive of everything I've asked of him so far, but this is going to be different. This is going to be a fight, and I don't intend to budge on my stance.

  "When do we leave?" he asks as I slip out of his embrace.

  "Where's your bag?"

  "In the corner over there," he replies, pointing toward the bathroom. "Don't change the subject. I need to get our plane tickets."

  "I'll get them. I should have frequent flier miles I can redeem. Might as well use them now."

  Locating his bag, I start pulling out clothes and tossing them in piles. I know what's clean and what's dirty for the most part. Laundry is on my list of things to do today anyway. By the time I reach the bottom of
the bag, I still haven't found it.

  "Are you sure it's in here?" I ask, looking over my shoulder at where Jackson used to be. "Where are you?" I call out.

  "Kitchen," I hear. "Coffee?"

  "Yes," I holler back. "Are you sure it isn't in your wallet?"

  Rummaging through his clothes again, I still don't find the list. I check all his pockets, pants, and shirts. Maybe it's in the pants he wore yesterday. Popping up too fast, a wave a dizziness washes over me, and I reach for the wall to steady myself. Once I'm sure I won't fall over, I walk into the bathroom and pull the hamper over to the toilet so I can sit down while I search.

  "Well, this is an interesting sight," Jackson says, setting my coffee down on the counter.

  "I can't find it. It wasn't in your suitcase, and I even checked all your pockets."

  "It's here somewhere."

  "Unless we left it behind."

  "I would never do that. Maybe I stuck it back in my wallet. Or maybe it's in your purse. When is the last time you remember seeing it?"

  "You've had it since Paris. I haven't seen it," I reply, reaching for my coffee. Maybe a few cups will wake me up and I'll have better luck finding it.

  After breakfast, Jackson makes room for my clean clothes in his closet and dresser while I sort through our bags. Just as I'm about to give up on finding the list, I notice a small piece of white paper hanging on the floor under Jackson's side of the bed.

  Crossing my finger, I grab it and slowly open it.

  My list.

  Thank God.

  Gripping it tightly in the palm of my hand, I let Jackson know I found it and then tuck it in my purse for safe keeping, right next to the paperwork the doctor sent me. I'll add to the list later tonight. Right now, we need to get ready to head to my parents’ house for an early dinner.

  Seeing as how this might be the last time we have dinner as a family, I take my time getting ready. Why rush? It's not like they'll eat without us. Not to mention, I plan to stay as long as possible. I want to spend as much time with them as I can just in case.

  As soon as dinner is served, my father starts questioning me. I brought the reading material the doctor sent. Handing it to him, he scans it while he eats. The room is silent as we wait. He's going to have something to say about it. He kept quiet yesterday, but there's no way he'll do the same tonight. This is his chance to voice his concerns if he has them.

  "When do you two leave?" he asks, pushing the pamphlet toward my mother.

  "I need to get a ticket still," I reply.

  "When do they expect you to arrive, then?"

  "The doctor asked me to be there no later than Thursday."

  "That soon?" my mother chimes in.

  "Yeah. They want to get started."

  "How long do you have to be gone?" Alex asks.

  I was hoping to see him tonight, but I was also wary about including him in the conversation. He's only five years old, after all. He only understands so much of what is going on. He's doing the best he can to look happy, but I can tell the mention of me leaving again makes him sad. For him alone, I wish all of this would go away.

  "I'll only be gone for about a month or two, bud."

  "You've already been gone that long. Can't you go another time?"

  "Well, the doctors are doing this cool stuff right now. I don't want to miss it. It could make me better."

  "Oh," is all he says. Focusing his attention on his plate, I watch as he pushes his rice around, not eating anything for a few minutes. I'm about to say something when Jackson joins the conversation.

  "We should probably look into renting a house or something,” Jackson says.

  We can't have this conversation right now. I haven't told him or my parents I'm going alone. It won't go over well. As much as my father wasn't happy with Jackson going with me on my trip, this will make him even angrier. He's my husband now. He should go with me. I get that.

  What I'd like to avoid is breaking his heart if I can. I don't want him to see me at my worst. From what the doctor told me on the phone, this trial is intense. I'll get worse before I get better. If I get better at all. The last thing I want is for him to be someone I forget.

  I saw the way he was looking at me that morning in Vegas. He was scared. He was certain he'd lost me, that I wasn't coming back to him. I don't ever want to see him look at me like that again. If I don't get better, that's exactly what will happen. It's best I do this alone, to spare everyone what I'll be like in the end.

  Letting his remark go unanswered, my father and I talk logistics while we finish up dinner. I tell him as much as I know about what to expect, and he grimaces. Most of the horrible details are left out for Alex's sake, but after he asks to be excused, I fill them in.

  The drug will make me sick. I'll need to take a delicate mix to keep me from vomiting all day, every day.

  My memory will go in and out. Some days, I might not even know who I am.

  I'll want to sleep all day long and, most days, I will.

  Assuming the tumor shrinks, they want to attempt to surgically remove it. This means shaving what's left of my hair, which is getting thinner each day. If they're able to remove the tumor, I'll be able to come back home and live normally. I'll be on a special cocktail of drugs for a few weeks after I return to make sure my body can fight any type of infection or virus I come in contact with since my immune system will be weakened.

  If they can't surgically remove it–and I was told it wasn’t a possibility by my first doctor–they'll try additional drugs to shrink it more. If that still doesn't work, I get to come home and attempt to live a normal life for as long as I can.

  Dinner ends with my mother leaving the table in tears. She's scared for me, I get that, and she's having a hard time hiding it. I don't blame her. If the situation were reversed and she was the one going through this, I wouldn't be able to handle it well, either. If there were a way to ease her pain, I would do it in a heartbeat.

  The drive back to the apartment is silent as first. Jackson doesn't even bother to turn on the radio. That's how I know something is on his mind. Just as we hit the highway, he finally breaks the silence.

  "I'm not going with you, am I?"

  "No. I need to do this alone," I reply, not sugar coating my response.

  "Who will take care of you, then? Someone needs to be there for you."

  "The doctors and nurses will be there. I have to live at the facility while they're doing the trial so I can be monitored. I'll be safe and well taken care of. I promise."

  "After it's over, you'll come back to me, then. You'll come home. You won't stay there if it doesn't work, right?"

  I hadn't thought that far ahead. I knew I didn't want him to see me go through everything, but the thought of coming back home so he could watch me die never crossed my mind. That would be worse for him than watching me lose my mind.

  "I will," I say, promising him something I'm not sure will happen.

  "That's the condition, Jessa. If you don't come back, I'll come get you. I need you to understand that. You won't go through this alone. You don't need to. You have me now, and your parents and Amber. None of us want you to do this alone. I get why you need to go, but I wish you'd let me go with you."

  "I love you, Jackson. That's why I can't let you go. Please understand."

  "I don't, but I'll try. That means we only have five more days to spend together. We need to make the most of them. No more talking about being sick. No mention of clinical trials or leaving. We live life as we normally would. Deal?"

  "Deal." I can do that. This will give me time to focus on my husband, on our life together, as short as it may end up being. Then, I'll hop a plane and pray that I get to return to him better off than when I left.

  Amber and Tom are laughing loudly, causing my head to start pounding in my skull. We've been drinking wine and playing cards for the last five hours. There's no end in sight at this point. It's past two in the morning. My plane leaves in less than eight hours, a
nd I'm pretty sure Amber is refusing to leave before I do.

  They barged in, unannounced, just after Jackson and I returned from dinner. We were about to enjoy a shower together when I heard Amber screaming for me from the living room. Quickly throwing a shirt back on, I rushed out to make sure everything was okay. What I found was Amber, a bottle of wine in each hand, and Tom standing behind her with two bottles of wine in each hand and an apologetic look on his face.

  As the night wears on, I convince Amber to give up cards and watch a movie. Knowing her, the second we shut the lights off, she'll pass out. It's been ages since she's been up this late. When you have three kids that you put on a school bus in the wee hours of the morning, you go to bed when they do if you're sane.

  Three. Two. One.

  She's out in less than ten minutes. Tom, who knew exactly what I was doing, fell asleep before she did. The couch will be their bed tonight. They've both had too much to drink to drive home, and since Amber’s mother is in town, she can get the kids off to school tomorrow. Poor Tom will have a hell of a day at work, but he's a trooper. You have to be if you're married to Amber.

  Leaving the TV on, Jackson and I retire to our room. I packed my bag before we left for dinner, but I double check it before crawling in. Jackson is fast asleep already. Propping my head up on my hand, I watch him for a few minutes. Doing the best I can, I memorize each of his features, starting with his lips.

  You can tell they're soft without even touching them. They're full and do the most amazing things when they graze my body. His eyes, even though they are closed, are full of adventure and love. I see my future in them every day when I wake up. I'm sure tomorrow morning, as hard as it's going to be on both of us, will be no different. When he looks at me with those beautiful dark-brown eyes, all I can think about it how easy it was to fall in love with him.

  Every part of Jackson is amazing, inside and out.

  Remembering the last thing I need to do before I leave, I slowly back out of bed and tip-toe into the dining room. I pull the list from my purse, dig for a pen, and scratch item number twenty-five at the bottom of the worn paper.