The Words We Leave Unspoken

by L. D. Cedergreen

  I am shocked to find Ben Roth sitting on the floor of the family room playing cards with Olivia and Max, and Charley nowhere to be found. A million thoughts run through my mind. First, I’m feeling guilt and anxiety about the obvious fact that Charley knows about Ben, something that I’ve been keeping from her for sometime. Feeling immediately defensive, my mind runs through all the reasons why I kept this from her. But then another thought jumps into my head. Why is Dr. Roth here? Did something happen to Olivia or Max? My eyes frantically scan their faces. They look fine and in one piece. But surely, Charley had called him for a reason. And finally, I am left wondering why Charley is not here.

  “Hi Mom. Hi Dad,” Olivia finally says, waving at us from where she is seated on the floor.

  “Hi Love Bug,” I manage to say. “Where’s Aunt Charley?” I ask.

  Ben stands and faces John and I. “Hi Gwen. John,” he nods our way. “Um, sorry to catch you off guard. Max had the stomach flu yesterday and Charley brought him into the clinic, just to be sure that he was okay. And he’s fine,” he assures me and then says, “I stopped by this morning, worried that Charley or Olivia could be sick. And Charley was pretty ill. She’s sleeping now. I hung around to keep an eye on these two.” He ticks his head to the side, motioning toward the kids and Max giggles.

  “Oh my God,” I say, running to Max. I kneel down beside him and instinctively feel his forehead. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  “I throwed up,” he said. “But I was so brave, Mommy.”

  “I’m sure you were, Bubs.” My heart clenches at the thought of Max being sick without me here to take care of him. Why didn’t Charley call me?

  “Well thank you, Ben. I appreciate you being here,” John says, as he steps forward and shakes Ben’s hand.

  “No problem. Glad I could help,” he says in response. “Max seems completely fine today. I’ve been trying to get fluids in him and food as well, but he’s pretty stubborn. He hasn’t eaten much.”

  I run my fingers through Max’s hair. “Thanks. I’ll work on it.”

  “Well I should get going. Tell Charley that I hope she feels better soon.” He grabs his jacket off the back of the couch. “Bye Olivia. Bye Max,” he says and then adds with his finger pointing at Max, “Keep working on that strategy I taught you. You’ll be beating your sister in no time.” Max gives him a salute, nearly poking his own eye out and Ben smiles at him before facing John and I, holding his hand up in a subtle wave. “Bye. See you around,” he says, in that casual way you say to people who aren’t necessarily your friends but rather people you see fairly often for one reason or another.

  “Thank you Ben, really. You didn’t have to stick around, but we’re so grateful that you did,” I tell him as he simply nods, smiles and leaves the room, letting himself out the front door.

  I take a deep breath and look at John as he raises his eyebrows, knowing that Charley is likely to be pissed at me. I hug Olivia and go in search of Charley, hoping that she’s okay.

  As I slowly push open the door to the guest room, I can barely make out Charley’s figure huddled under the bedding in the cover of darkness.

  “Charley,” I whisper as I make my way to the bed.

  “Hey,” she croaks. “You’re home.”

  “How are you feeling?” I ask as I feel her forehead and brush her hair back from her face, which I can see clearly from the light pouring in from the hallway. Her cheeks are pale and hollow and she looks so young, reminding me of all the times she was sick as a child and I took care of her. All the times I would heat soup from the can in the microwave and then spoon it in her mouth while she lay in her bed, wiping the steady stream of broth from her chin with a paper towel. I would console her, rub her back and whisper words of encouragement, in the same way I did when she was sad or upset. I did these things knowing that my mother couldn’t get out of bed to do them herself. It was clear that she was suffering in a way that I couldn’t understand at the time. When our dad left, she became bitter and depressed. In my mother’s emotional absence, and given that I was the oldest by five years, I had assumed the role of Charley’s caretaker. Always with mixed feelings. I could never quite settle on feeling compassion or a bit of resentment toward Charley. Compassion because she was my younger sister and I loved her dearly and wanted desperately for her to feel safe and loved but resentful simply because she was my younger sister. And rather than spending my time playing with the other girls my age, fretting over petty matters like clothes and boys, I was wiping the tears of a five-year-old girl and making sure that she was clothed and fed.

  “I think I’m better. How was it? How are you?” she asks and I can see her eyes grow wide as she searches my face waiting for an answer.

  “It was fine. We had a great weekend, actually.”

  “It was fine,” she repeats. “What do you mean it was fine? What did John say?”

  “Well, I didn’t actually tell him,” I whisper as I look over my shoulder toward the open door like someone who has something to hide.

  “You didn’t tell him,” Charley raises her voice.

  “Shh, be quiet,” I scold as I sit on the edge of the bed. “I just couldn’t tell him. We were having so much fun and connecting in a way that we haven’t in a long time. I’ll tell him soon. I will.” I say this to reassure Charley as much as myself.

  “Oh Gwen. You have to tell him. You can’t keep this from him.”

  “I know. I will.”

  Charley sits up and wraps her arms around me and the weight of the truth envelops me as much as her embrace. I just wish it would all go away. All of it.

  I hear Charley groan and then she bolts out of bed, nearly knocking me to the ground, as she runs for the bathroom across the hall. I follow her when I hear her retch repeatedly, the bathroom door left wide open. Her slim figure is bent over the toilet and I feel awful for her.

  “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” I ask when she finally collapses onto her knees with her head resting on the toilet.

  “Oh God. This is the worst. Children are evil,” she mumbles into the arm that her face is buried in.

  “Sorry about that. But thank you for taking care of Max. You could have called me, ya know?” I lean against the doorway and fold my arms over my chest, watching her.

  “I know. But I also knew you needed the time alone. We survived, though.” And then she lifts her head and turns to look at me, “Please tell me that Ben left?”

  “Yeah, he left. He said to tell you that he hopes you feel better.”

  “Which reminds me. I’m pissed at you,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me before dropping her face back down in the crook of her arm.

  “I can only imagine,” I deadpan, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, waiting for her to lay into me.

  “I’m so mad that you didn’t tell me.”

  “I have my reasons, ya know.”

  “Ugh. I can’t talk about this right now. I feel like shit,” she says with her face pressed into her arm, her words so muffled I can hardly comprehend what she’s saying. “Shut the door. I’m just gonna lay here for awhile.”

  “Okay. Just yell if you need anything. I take it you’re spending the night?”

  “Obviously.”

  I close the bathroom door and lean against it, taking a moment’s pause. I didn’t tell John that I have cancer. I didn’t tell Charley that Ben was back in town or that he was our pediatrician. I’ve been avoiding my mother for weeks. I know that it’s time to face it all, but I just want to crawl under a rock and hide. Life feels too complicated at the moment. I think of the appointment that I have the following day with the new oncologist. Maybe after I have more information it will be easier to talk to John. Maybe when they can offer a solution, the truth won’t be so hard to divulge.

  “Mommy,” I hear Max call out from the family room. I smile and think how predictable this part of my life is. And predictable is exactly what I need right now.

  “Be right there,” I answer as
I push off the bathroom door and walk swiftly toward my son, all at once needing to feel his small frame in my arms.

  Chapter 14

  Charley

  I open my eyes to sunlight streaming in around closed blinds, the brightness causing an unbearable pain in my head. I can hear dishes clanking from the kitchen and muffled voices signaling the chaos of Gwen’s Monday morning. I really don’t know how she does this shit every day. I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before gulping down a warm glass of water from the nightstand, feeling completely parched. I am suddenly starving, a good sign that I’m over the flu.

  I glance at my phone on the nightstand, noting the time, and decide to text Grey to let him know that I won’t be at the office today. I may be late often but I have never missed a day of work.

  His response comes immediately. Are you okay?

  Yes. Max shared the stomach flu with me, but I feel much better. I’m still in Seaport though.

  Okay. Call me later. Feel better and drive safe.

  I stumble into the kitchen to find Gwen frantically packing lunch boxes while at the same time flipping pancakes on the stovetop.

  “She’s alive,” she says before calling Olivia and Max to the kitchen. In an instant it sounds as if a herd of elephants are coming down the stairs and my head pounds with each thunderous thud.

  I grab a warm pancake from the impressive stack that Gwen has prepared and slowly nibble on it.

  “What’s your plan today?” Gwen asks. “Going in to work?”

  “No way. Still recovering. I think I’ll take a shower and head home. How about you?”

  Max and Olivia plop down simultaneously in barstools at the kitchen island and Gwen places their plates on the counter in front of them.

  She leans in close and whispers in my ear, “I’ve got my appointment with Dr. Sheldan at eleven.”

  I nod as she turns and starts to tell the kids that Kristin is picking them up from school today. Max pumps his fist in the air, and yells, “Yes, I get to play Carter’s new Xbox.”

  I cringe at the peak of his voice as it rattles my brain.

  Olivia whines, “Seriously Mom? It’s so boring. I’m the oldest one there.”

  “Well just start on your homework and I’ll be there to pick you up as soon as I can,” Gwen says.

  I look at Gwen and ask if she wants me to go with her. She just shrugs and says, “Only if you feel up to it.”

  “Of course, I feel up to it. You shouldn’t have to go alone,” I say quietly, leaning closer to her.

  “Okay, that would be nice actually. I’ve gotta get these little buggers to school and then I’m driving into the city.”

  “How about this… meet me at my place at ten-thirty. It’s on the way and we can drive to the medical center together.”

  She nods. “Thank you,” she says after a bloated pause. I watch as she places a lunchbox into Olivia’s pink backpack and zips it closed wondering how long we can keep this from John.

  I finish my pancake and the herd exits just as abruptly as it entered, leaving the house eerily quiet. I shower, throw on some yoga clothes and drive through steady traffic back to the city, all the while lost in dangerous thoughts of Gwen, my past with Ben, and all the uncertainty that swarms around me.

  Gwen’s knee is bouncing up and down as she thumbs through a celebrity gossip magazine. I look around the waiting room. There are ten or so other people sitting in the same beige leather seats, nervously waiting. Most are women. I note that two women have scarves wrapped around their bald heads, their eyes big and shadowed. It reminds me of Gwen when she was battling cancer before. The bald head, beady eyes underlined with dark circles, rosy cheeks, and that frail, thin look about her. She was so sick. I swallow the lump in my throat and place a firm hand on Gwen’s bouncing knee to reassure her. She looks up from her magazine and I can see the fear in her eyes.

  “Talk to me about something, I’m going crazy here,” she whispers.

  “Gwen, everything’s going to be okay,” I assure her.

  “Just distract me. Tell me about Grey.” She waves her hand through the air, encouraging me to start talking.

  And so I ask, “Why didn’t you tell me about Ben?”

  She sighs and looks down, smoothing her slacks with her hands.

  “Charley...” she hesitates.

  “Tell me. Why the lie?”

  “I never lied to you. I just didn’t tell you. There’s a difference.”

  I look at her, waiting for an explanation, with my arms folded across my chest.

  “You have to understand that he’s the best pediatrician in town. Dr. Shultz is old and frankly, gives me the creeps. I was lucky that the kids were accepted by Ben’s practice. He’s totally booked. I mean, not only is he the best but just look at him, every mom in Seaport flocks to him based on his looks alone.”

  I hold my hand up. “Okay I didn’t need to hear that.”

  “Anyway, I was afraid if I told you he was back, something might happen between you two and, if it went to hell, we could lose our spot. And I was worried about you. He broke your heart. And I feel like you’ve never really gotten over it, even after all these years.”

  “Gwen, what are you talking about?”

  “Charley, you were devastated when you broke up and he left town. And you haven’t genuinely cared for someone since.”

  “Gwen, it’s not what you think.” I frown, remembering it all too well.

  “Okay. I’m listening.”

  I rest my face in my hands gathering my thoughts and then look up. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this here, right now.” My eyes scan the waiting room.

  “You’re helping to distract me, remember. Just tell me.” Gwen bumps her elbow against my arm and tosses her magazine on the table in front of us, where it lands on a pile of other magazines and medical brochures.

  I take a deep breath. “Well... I kind of slept with Brody Knight a few weeks before graduation.”

  “What the...” she starts to say a little too loudly, before lowering her voice. I glance around the room to find several people looking our way.

  “What the hell, Charley?” she says, now more of a whisper.

  I shrug, not really wanting to go into the details. But of course Gwen won’t leave it alone.

  “Why would you do that? Brody Knight? Seaport’s very own football star? That guy was such a... such an egomaniac,” she scowls.

  “I know. It was horrible and I wanted to take it back immediately but of course it was too late.”

  Gwen sits forward and turns to look at me, where I’m slouched down in my chair with my arms folded across my chest, feeling a mixture of shame and remorse. It all happened years ago but seeing Ben brought back an arsenal of emotions that I suddenly feel completely defenseless against.

  “Wait. Was he your first?” she asks me, her big eyes jutting out of their sockets.

  “I just thought... I just thought... I don’t know what I was thinking.” I moan and bury my face in my hands again, leaning forward until my elbows come to rest on my knees.

  But deep down I remember exactly what I had been thinking. Ben was leaving. He had been accepted to his dream school on the other side of the country. He was brilliant and he had this incredible plan for his future which all started at Harvard University. We had been inseparable for three years, crazy in love. Both of us virgins, we had been saving ourselves for graduation night, when we would finally have sex for the first time. Ben knew everything about me, and yet he still loved me anyway. He was the only one who really seemed to get me, the real me. He assured me that I was part of his plan. That the distance would not come between us. He argued that four years was nothing in the grand scheme of things, in comparison to the rest of our lives. I knew better. I wanted to believe in him, in us. But even at eighteen I was no naive little girl. The idea of not being with him made my chest hurt, and caused real, physical pain. It was as if I needed him to breathe. The notion that I had let myse
lf depend on someone so much that life without them seemed unbearable was a terrifying realization. Ben was leaving me and there was nothing I could do to change that. I remember desperately wanting to end things with him on my own terms, to have some semblance of control over the situation. I pleaded with him, throwing out every reason in the book why we should break up; he was leaving and we should end it now, that long distance relationships never worked out. But he wouldn’t listen, refused to let me push him away. But that was exactly what I did when he found me in the backseat of Brody Knight’s car with my skirt pushed up around my waist just weeks before graduation. Sealing our fate. Ben had accepted early admission the following week and left the day after graduation. I stayed behind and attended community college in Seattle that fall, with a shattered heart, never hearing from him again.

  “Gwen Porter,” a voice calls from across the waiting room and I sit up abruptly and squeeze Gwen’s hand.

  “Here we go,” I hear her mumble as we both stand and make our way across the waiting room.

  Chapter 15

  Gwen

  Charley and I are led into an office rather than an exam room, where we both sit in matching dark leather chairs that face a large tidy desk. My thoughts are racing as we wait for Dr. Sheldan.

  A dreadful ten minutes later, he enters the room apologizing for the wait. He introduces himself as he shakes my hand and I introduce Charley.

  Dr. Sheldan is younger than I expected and shorter, but he has a handsome face and kind smile, putting me at ease immediately.

  He addresses me once he is seated behind his desk.

  “Gwen. I’ve reviewed your history, blood work, scans and your biopsy results and I’m not going to lie. I can’t offer you a different prognosis than Dr. Rand. However, I can offer you a treatment. We’re dealing with metastatic breast cancer that has spread to your lymph nodes as well as your bones. Unfortunately there is no cure, but we can design a treatment plan specifically for you that would focus on the length and quality of your life. We have a variety of treatment plans and studies show that any one of these treatments could prolong your life by five years...”