by Devney Perry
He looks over my shoulder and tries to smile. “Is she okay?” he asks her and ignores me.
“I am here, you know,” I tell him and tap his chest.
“Yeah,” Becca ignores me too. “Better than I thought she would be.”
“I got her from here.”
“Hello?” I question, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Still here.”
Becca comes up behind me and kisses my cheek. “I’ll leave you in very capable hands.” She stifles a giggle as she whispers in my ear.
“Bec.”
“Call me if you need anything. I have to run to work. I’m late for my shift.” Before I can argue, she turns and almost skips down my hallway before disappearing into the stairwell. Becca isn’t late. It’s only three, and I know she doesn’t need to be at the bar to work her second job until after seven.
“Hungry?” he asks, turning his attention back to me.
“Are you calmed down yet?” I place my palm flat against him, relishing the feel of his heart pounding beneath my hand.
He laughs softly. “I’m calm. Just a shitty day at work.”
“No one to butcher?” I make light of his job, whatever it is, even though I haven’t figured it out entirely.
“Nope. Everyone survived today. So how about something to eat?” he asks, pulling my key he’s never given back from his pocket and unlocking my door.
“I don’t feel like eating. My stomach isn’t feeling so well. I ate crackers during chemo,” I tell him as he ushers me inside with one arm around me. “But I don’t think they’re going to stay down for too much longer.” Without hesitation, he scoops me into his arms and carries me toward the bed. “Bathroom, please.”
“Bed.”
“Bruno.”
“Callie.”
The man is impossible.
When he sets me down, he leaves the room and I hear movement in the kitchen. Before I can climb to my feet, he’s back and has a bowl in his hand. “Use this.” He places it on the bed next to me.
I grimace, wrinkling my nose in disgust. “What?”
“I’ll clean it. I don’t want you lying on the bathroom floor anymore.”
The thought of him cleaning up my vomit makes my stomach turn more. “No. I rather go into the bathroom.”
“Just stay here.” He pushes me back and lifts my legs, positioning me against the headboard as if I’m a decorative pillow. “Relax. I’m taking care of you. If you’re going to be sick, do it in the bowl.”
Men are weird. I wouldn’t clean up his puke. Even if I loved him, worshiped the ground he walked on, I just couldn’t do it.
“I’m going to make some soup while you rest.”
“What if I don’t want soup?”
“It’s the best thing for you.”
When did he become my mother? “Who says?”
“Lee.”
Well, okay then. If his sister, the one who survived this disease, tells me to have soup, I will.
He leaves and I listen to him as he starts the soup…from scratch. Yes, from scratch. Who the fuck is this man? I expect Campbell’s or maybe some other store-brand canned shit, but that isn’t Bruno. He doesn’t do anything easy.
I think about Lee and wonder how she handled it all, especially him.
Me: Hey, Lee. It’s Callie. I hope I’m not bothering you.
I don’t know what else to say. I’ve only met her once, but we have two very important things in common.
Lee: Hey! It’s so good to hear from you. How are you holding up?
But she makes it effortless and puts my mind at ease.
Me: I’m okay. Just got home from round 2. Not feeling so good and waiting for it to get worse.
I slouch down against the pillows and pray that I don’t throw up all the dry crackers I consumed earlier.
Lee: Are you alone?
Me: No. Your brother is here pretending to be Emeril Lagasse and making me soup.
I giggle at the thought. Images of him looking like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets fill my mind and my laughter grows. Maybe he yells, “Bam!” when he throws in the spices to make it manlier. I wish I had a clear view of him from where I sit, but I only catch a glimpse every once in a while.
Lee: He’s good like that. Soup is a great idea. Trust me, I know.
Me: Bruno said you told him I should eat it.
Lee: We learned it was best after chemo. It’s easier to toss up soup than crackers. I learned the hard way.
Oh, shit. Crackers would probably feel like glass as they climbed up my throat. They sure don’t feel gentle on the way down.
Me: Tell me it gets easier.
Lee: It gets easier.
Me: Yeah?
Lee: No.
Well, at least she’s honest, which makes me laugh because I would’ve been okay with a lie.
Lee: What kind of soup is he making?
“Bruno, what kind of soup are you making?” I yell because the smell hasn’t hit me yet to be able to answer.
“Thai Ginger.”
My face scrunches at his response, but I send her the message anyway. Thai Ginger? I thought Chicken Noodle was the go-to soup, but apparently, I’m wrong.
“Why?” he yells back.
“Lee.”
“Ahhh,” he says, walking into the room and drying his hands. He leans against the doorframe and watches me before throwing the towel over his shoulder.
“Ginger is good for you.”
I nod, remembering what Lee told me before. It makes complete sense.
“Need help?” I ask, but I know I’m not going to move from this bed.
“Nope. I have it.”
“Okay.” I smile at him and take in his beauty. If I felt better, I’d be on him like white on rice. The tight black T-shirt hugs every muscle, showing off the curve of every crevice that I want to lick and explore. His thighs bulge from under his jeans, straining against the material to come closer to me.
“Need anything?” he asks, the look on his face making me think he can read my mind.
“Nope,” I tell him and keep ogling his body.
“Back at it.” He walks back into the kitchen, whistling a tune I’ve never heard.
Lee: Perfect choice. I wouldn’t expect anything else from Bruno.
Me: He’s sure a conundrum.
Lee: You have no idea.
She doesn’t give anything away and neither does he, but I’ll never forget their conversation outside my door when they thought I wasn’t listening.
Me: So I was wondering…
Lee: Yeah?
I want to ask about Bruno, but I decide against it.
Me: Am I going to be sicker after this round?
Lee: Probably. The side effects will change. Besides being sick, you’re probably going to go through some rather odd and scary things.
Maybe I should’ve asked about him instead. I don’t think I wanted her to continue her statement. Before I can type back, my stomach decides it doesn’t want crackers anymore. Pulling the bowl in front of me, I toss up everything inside and feel every cracker cutting on its way up.
Bruno’s in the room before I can pull myself together. He has a glass of water and a towel in his hand, holding it out to me.
“This is gross,” I complain, setting the bowl in my lap and taking the towel to wipe my face.
“I know.” He shakes the glass, urging me to take it. “Water.”
Bossy man.
My eyes tear, making it hard to see. But as soon as I find the glass, I grab it and start to drink. The cool liquid sliding down my throat soothes the burn from being sick.
After drinking every drop, I sigh and relax against the headboard.
“You good?”
“Good.” I close my eyes.
The bowl moves from my lap and he leaves, heading toward the bathroom with it in his hands. “I can do that,” I yell out and feel guilty he’s cleaning my vomit.
“I got it.”
Me: How did
you deal with this man?
Lee: It gets easier.
Me: I doubt anything about him is easy.
She sends back an emoticon with a tongue sticking out.
She gets it. All of it.
Sorrow—It’s a Bitch
I wake up with tears in my eyes and my skin feels like my throat had hours earlier. Bruno pulled me against him and I conked out immediately last night, but between my dreams and his heat, I can’t sleep anymore.
I try pushing his arm off my chest, but I fail. He’s too strong and his arm too heavy for me to budge it. My panic starts to rise and my skin feels hotter, almost like it’s on fire.
“Bruno,” I cry, struggling underneath him to break free.
He stirs and grunts but doesn’t wake.
“Bruno!” I push harder and can’t stop the panic in my voice.
“What,” he yells, shooting straight up and taking his arm with him. “What’s wrong?” He reaches down to touch me and I flinch.
“Don’t.”
“Your skin hurts?” he asks like he’s reading my mind, and I nod with trembling lips.
“So bad. I can’t take it.” The tears spill down my cheeks, and I start to rock back and forth, making it worse.
“Stop moving,” he tells me and snatches his hands back quickly. “I’m going to run you a cold bath.”
“No, I can’t move.”
“Trust me.” He jumps from the bed and disappears into the bathroom.
I sob, listening to water run and wondering how I’ll get up. Even the thought of him carrying me terrifies me. The clothes against my skin are too much to handle.
“Lee,” Bruno says rapidly. “Her skin. Can you come over?”
I want to tell him no, cry that I don’t want her around, but I’m not able to argue or speak.
“Lee’s coming,” he tells me when he walks out of the bedroom. “She can help.” He drags his hands through his hair.
“No,” I cry out as he comes closer, throwing my hands up to stop him. Please don’t touch me.
“Walk or I carry you. Either way is going to hurt like a motherfucker, but the cold water will help, Cal. Trust me.”
I do.
Entirely.
More than anyone else in my life, in fact. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know if I would’ve made it through the first few weeks without going mad.
“Walk.” I choke on my tears, pushing myself up with my palms. The soft cotton sheets feel more like hot coals, scorching my flesh with every movement.
Bruno watches me struggle, listening to me moan with every step before grabbing me as gently as possible and carrying me to the bathtub. But instead of putting me down and letting me get undressed, he places my feet in the ice water and starts to undress me.
It feels good. No. Actually, it feels better than that. Sinking down into the water, my skin cools and the fire seems to diminish a little. Never in my life have I felt such searing pain all over my body. It hasn’t gone away, but no longer do I wish for death or cry uncontrollably.
“Jesus,” he mumbles, dragging his fingers though his thick, dark hair and looking down at me. “I thought I was ready for this.”
I grab my knees, bringing them to my body to hide my breasts. “For what?” I drag my eyes to his.
“For the pain you’re going to go through. It’s hard to watch. I thought I prepared myself for it. I know what it’s like. I watched Lee go through the same shit.” He swallows hard and takes a deep breath. “But watching you makes my chest hurt.” He places his hand over his heart and clutches his shirt.
My face rests against my knees as I watch him. I feel my heart beat a little faster at his sweetness. “Why did you call her?”
He sits down on the edge and smiles softly, his breaths still uneven. “The only person I know stronger than me is her. She can help you through this. Prepare you for what’s ahead. It took her a while to learn tricks, ways to cope with the effects of the chemo. You need her, Cal.”
Cal. “Okay.” My body is cooler, the ache less noticeable as the water reaches just below my knees. When I move forward to turn off the water, he beats me to it and pins me to my spot with a single look.
“Are you used to doing everything on your own?” He scoops water into his hand before letting it trickle down my back.
I jump from the coolness against my skin. “I am. Why? Do you have people who help you with everything?”
His mouth is slack as he shakes his head. “It’s just, we all need someone at some time in our life.”
I glance up at him and don’t believe it. “When have you ever needed someone?”
His face softens. “Plenty of times.”
“Like?” I push because he never gives in on anything easily.
“When I need someone, my sister is my rock.”
It’s not that it’s farfetched, but I figured he would’ve said a man was his rock, not a woman, but it makes sense. They seem close. “When?”
“I lost someone near to me.” He pauses, water dripping from his hand, but I don’t say a thing. I figure if I speak, he’ll find a way to sidetrack the conversation. “She died when I was very young, barely out of high school. Lee was there for me. She looked out for me and made sure I didn’t lose control and do something stupid.”
“What would you have done?”
“It’s such a long story, babe.”
“I have time.” I smile, curling over my knees to give him better access to my entire back.
“After high school, my girlfriend found out she was pregnant. We weren’t exactly thrilled about the situation. We were young and stupid. But after a while, we came to terms with it. We planned a wedding and decided we’d make a family. We did love each other.” I can hear the strain in his voice, the pain still hidden in his words.
“So we’re planning a wedding, trying to get through our freshman year of college, and then it all vanished and I was powerless to stop it.”
“What happened? If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.” I’m a complete asshole. I pushed him to talk and relive something painful.
His chest heaves and he doesn’t respond right away. The wrinkles near his eyes deepen. “They were murdered.”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—” The rest of my words trail off because I’m choking up. Seeing him sad and vulnerable is too much for me to take.
“Some asshole junkie tried to steal her car. Instead of getting out, she argued with him and he shot her in the head.”
“Jesus,” I whisper and my heart aches for him.
“Yeah. Left her and our baby to die at a stoplight.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“I ask myself every day why she didn’t just get out of the damn car. It wasn’t worth her life. The life of our baby or anything else. It was just a fucking car.”
Reaching out, I touch his hand resting next to him on the edge of the tub and give it a hard squeeze. “I’m sorry, Bruno.”
“I went off the rails after that. I didn’t see a purpose in life. Even though we hadn’t planned for the baby, I’d dreamed of the day we’d become a family. I had never prepared myself for losing them. Lee stayed by my side, reminding me that Maggie wouldn’t want me to lose it.”
“Your sister loves you.”
“She does. But she didn’t have to take care of me the way she did. I don’t even remember the funeral. I was between blinding rage and paralysis. But she looked out for me and gave me a reason to go on.”
“I wish I had a sister.”
He lays a hand on my shoulder before dribbling the cold water down my back again. “When Lee got sick, I was still a freaking mess. But I had to help her. She pulled me through, and I vowed to be everything she needed to survive breast cancer. You see, I wasn’t entirely selfless—I couldn’t lose her. Losing another person, especially one I loved more than anyone else still walking this planet, would have destroyed me. There would’ve been no coming back from that loss, Cal. No co
ming back.”
“It doesn’t matter why you did it, Bruno, only that you did. But I still don’t get why you’re here with me, helping me through this.”
His left eyebrow rises as he grins down at me. “Haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”
“No,” I groan, knowing he’s playing with me like a cat plays with a mouse.
He opens his mouth to answer when there’s a knock on the door. “Got to get that,” he tells me, hopping up from the edge of the tub as if he’s been saved.
“Fuck,” I hiss, resting my forehead against my knees. “Perfect timing, Lee.” She saves him once again and helps keep me in the dark.
Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid
When I climb out of the tub and put on my fluffiest robe, Bruno and Lee are sitting in the kitchen waiting for me.
“Hey,” Lee greets me with her arms outstretched as her eyes search mine.
“Hi.” I hug her tightly, but her hands barely touch me.
“You okay?” she asks, taking a step back and looking at me.
I nod. “Much better.” My smile grows wider because I’m suddenly thankful for the two people in my kitchen. “The ginger soup helped my belly too.”
“Thank God,” she whispers and rubs her forehead.
“Well, ladies. Although you know how much I love a good chat—” he stands and shoves his wallet and keys in his pocket “—I have some work to do. I’ll be back later.”
“Now?” I glance at the clock and wonder why he’s ditching me.
“Yeah.”
“Are you coming back?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
“I’ll try, but if not, Lee will stay and I’ll come by tomorrow.”
Enter my grumpy attitude that is totally misplaced and unexpected. “Fine.”
He walks toward us, giving Lee a kiss on the cheek before coming to a stop in front of me. “I see you’re feeling better.” His fingers find my chin, tipping my eyes up to look at him. “Be a good girl.” He winks before kissing me on the nose. “I’ll be back.”
“I may be asleep.” I’m feeling irritable suddenly.
“I have a key, remember?”
“Yeah.” My voice is light and airy.
