Opening the fridge, I grab a bottle of water and the carrots, celery, bell peppers, and cucumbers that are sitting in the bottom drawer.
“What are you cooking?” I ask, making my way over to the center island.
“Oh, just trying out this new chicken recipe I found.” She gives me a warm smile before stuffing her nose into her recipe book. “What time do you need to be at the hospital tomorrow?”
Hospital. I’m starting to hate that word.
“Noon. The procedure is at one.”
I have to get my chemo port put back in to restart my therapy.
Chemo sucks. The movies only show you a small fraction of what really happens. It’s three, sometime four, hours of sitting in a chair, hooked up to a machine in order to receive the drugs you need. It’s a feeling of being vulnerable … helpless. A sense of losing all control. It’s a feeling of handing over your faith and hope to someone other than God, giving your trust to your doctors and the drugs that are being pumped into your veins.
With my past treatment, the fatigue was the hardest for me to handle. I was always too tired to hang out with my friends, sit down for dinner with my parents, or enjoy a conversation with someone without wanting to fall asleep. I’m not looking forward to that this time around.
“Sounds good. Chemotherapy starts on Wednesday then?”
“Yeah.”
We continue preparing the food in silence. Her stuffing chickens, me chopping vegetables.
I’m sitting at the counter looking through the most recent celebrity gossip magazine while dinner cooks, when Jason comes back from his bike ride.
“Hello, ladies. It smells good in here.”
It does smell good. A mixture of lemon, butter, and spices.
Jason bends to give Genna a quick kiss on the cheek. When he stands tall, he looks at me. “Did you help?” he asks with a hint of amusement in his voice. He knows I can’t cook for shit.
“I made the salad. Your wife did the rest. She made a lot, too, so you better have built up an appetite on that bike.”
“She didn’t tell you? The new veterinarian I hired for the clinic is coming over for dinner tonight.”
Setting the knife down, I give Jason my full attention. He’s leaning back against the counter, chugging a Bud Light as if it were water. That man must have been thirsty.
Jason is actually quite attractive. He’s tall, lean, and clean-cut, with short, chocolate brown hair. He’s not muscular, but well-toned. And whiter than white. You’d think he never goes out in the sun. However, he does make drinking a bottle of beer appealing. He reminds me of a Bud Light ad.
“You didn’t tell me you hired someone!”
I watch as he chugs the remainder of his beer, then rests the empty bottle next to him.
“Yeah, the intern from Florida Genna told you about.”
“The hot one?”
He laughs.
“Yes, the hot one,” he says between chuckles. “I hired him. Not for his good looks, or charms, but because he had some great ideas and strong feelings about becoming partner, so I let him go in on the place.”
“That’s awesome! I can’t believe no one told me!”
Not that anyone has to tell me. With Genna and I being so close, I figured it would have come up in one of our conversations prior to me moving here.
“It just happened within the last week. With getting you moved in, there was just too much going on. I like him. The staff does too. Genna met him briefly a while back. We thought it would be nice to have him over tonight to celebrate his kick-off. Tomorrow marks his first week as Dr. Jackson with For the Love of Paws,” he says, grinning.
“Jason, that’s so exciting! I’m happy for you.”
Genna walks into the kitchen. I watch as she goes to the cabinet to take out plates.
“What are you happy about?” she asks, taking out the last square black plate.
“Him hiring the intern. That’s awesome.”
“Oh, yes. For the clinic and for the ladies.”
“See?” Jason shakes his head. “The looks! The women only want him for his looks.”
“Honey, those poor women only have you to look at all day. And you’re married. They need the fresh meat.” She smiles at him innocently.
“What? I’m not enough to look at?” he jokes, acting as if he’s hurt.
“Baby, you are more than enough to look at. But I don’t feel like taking my claws out on my friends.”
I laugh at the small banter between the two.
“Aundrea, Jason was telling me last night he’s thinking of hiring some part-time help. I thought that might be something you’d want to do?” she questions, walking into the dining room.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s nothing special. Help with cleaning, filing, and maybe phones?” Jason adds.
“I thought you’d want to do something. You know, when you’re feeling good between treatments. Get out of the house,” Genna says, shrugging as she walks back into the kitchen.
“That might be good,” I say.
And it might.
I run back upstairs to change into something a little more appropriate for company. Leaving my pink tank top on, I slip off my extremely short cheerleading shorts and put on comfy yoga pants. Going into the bathroom, I apply a little concealer and mascara.
I readjust my wig until it sits correctly, then clip it into place. I’m lucky that this wig has built in clips to grip onto your hair. It’s the only reason it stayed attached to my head last night with Parker. Or was it this morning, technically? It’s made specifically for hair that is growing back. I prefer longer wigs, but they don’t look as realistic as the short ones. I’ve had this one since the beginning of August. Before that, I was a bleach blonde. It’s kind of fun to be someone else for a while. To feel like someone else.
As I finish running a brush through my hair, the doorbell rings. I make sure the last of my strands are in place before turning off the light and heading downstairs.
Just as I’m about to head downstairs, my phone goes off.
Jean: Hey. Sorry, I forgot to text you. I made it back safely. Have a good night. Talk to you soon. xo
Me: Have a good night. :)
When I reach the bottom of the staircase, Genna is talking to someone whom I assume is the new guy. His back is to me, and he’s leaning with one shoulder against the wall where the living room joins the dining room. He’s tall and has short hair that looks wet from a recent shower. Dressed in dark, washed out jeans that hug his body in all the right places, and a green t-shirt, he looks yum-o!
Jason clears his throat next to me. Embarrassed at being caught checking out his new employee, I laugh nervously.
“Not you too?” he asks. His eyes stay where mine are placed. Him.
“What?”
“All the girls at the office think he is so dreamy.” He drags out the “so” as he brings his hands up to his chest while lifting his shoulders slightly, displaying a cheesy grin.
I burst out laughing. It’s the voice I hear next that stops me, causing me to choke mid-laugh.
“Sorry I’m a little late.”
I recognize that voice.
His right hand comes up to run his fingers through his hair. That looks familiar too.
I know that hand.
I know those fingers. All too well.
This. Is. Not. Good.
“Oh, don’t be silly. You’re just fine. How was your day?” my sister asks. My sister! He’s talking to my sister! I need to get out of here fast.
“To say I had an interesting day would be an understatement.”
I don’t move. He’s turning around.
Move!
He’s still speaking, but I don’t pay attention to anything he says. I just watch his mouth move as he follows my sister into the living room. That’s when I see his face.
“Fuck. Me,” I whisper loud enough for Jason to hear.
Jason starts laughing so loudly it causes me to jump. I forgot he wa
s still standing next to me. “Oh, Aundrea, you’re going to fit in perfectly with the girls,” he says, continuing to laugh as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. I can feel his body shaking with every laugh.
It’s then I notice that Parker is staring straight into my hazel eyes. Mouth agape.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t move.
I can’t hear anything.
The man I slept with last night is now standing in my sister’s house.
Holy freaking hell.
“Come on, let me introduce you,” Jason says as he drags me to Parker. It’s a good thing he’s guiding me because I would still be stuck on the bottom step.
Parker’s eyes don’t leave mine.
My eyes don’t leave Parker.
“Parker, this is Aundrea. Aundrea, this is Parker.” Neither of us makes a move. I just stand looking at him. This cannot be happening to me.
Of course it is! Everything happens to me.
Clearing his throat, Parker reaches his hand out, taking mine in his grasp. Shaking my hand, he smiles. “Nice to formally meet you, Aundrea.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, so I close it. Jason starts to laugh again. I elbow his side, which causes him to laugh harder. If only he knew how funny this really is. And I don’t mean that lightly.
Finding my voice, I reply, “Yeah, uh, it’s nice to meet you too.” This causes him to give me a wide smile. Jason doesn’t stop laughing. Genna says something to him, and he instantly becomes quiet.
“Dinner is done. Why don’t we go eat?” she asks, giving Jason a stern look.
I can’t eat. I’m sitting across the table from Parker. He doesn’t appear to be affected by my presence as I am by his. He carries on a conversation through the whole dinner with Genna and Jason. I nod when needed. Smile when indicated. Laugh when they do. All while not paying attention to anything they’re saying.
“Aundrea?” I hear my name, but I don’t know who said it.
“Yes?”
“I was just telling Parker here how you’ll be helping out around the office,” Genna says, taking a break between bites.
Looking at Parker, I find my voice. “Oh, I’m not helping there. It was brought up, but I’ll be too busy with school.”
“Class is only onli—”
“Wednesdays. Not to mention I signed up to help tutor,” I interrupt. I specify Wednesdays because that’s my chemo day.
“Since when?” she counters, giving me an odd expression.
“Today.”
“It’s Sunday.” Oops.
“I emailed my instructor today and told him I would. He emailed the class last week to ask who would be interested.”
“Riiiight.” She knows I’m lying.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me. I’m not very hungry.” I stand up from the table.
Genna lets out a soft sigh. “Aundrea.” Her eyes plead with me. She looks at my barely touched plate, then back at me, but she doesn’t have to say anything. I can see it in her sad eyes. She’s doing it. Trying to tell me that I need to eat. I contemplate sitting back down, but then remember who is across from me.
I look at Parker. I try to put on a fake smile for my sister and Jason. “Parker, it was great meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Or not.
I leave the dining room and head toward the stairs. I can hear Parker mumble something to Genna and Jason, but I don’t turn back. Instead, I take the steps two at a time.
When I make it into my room, my heart is pounding so fast. I go to push my door closed, but it’s stopped. There’s a hand pushing it back open. Parker.
Parker walks into my room, closing my door quietly behind him.
“You left.” I don’t think he’s talking about just now.
He takes a step toward me. I take a step back. He’s looking at me with those eyes. The ones from the bar. The ones with fire. I suddenly can’t breathe again. I look at his lips and back up into his eyes.
“Look, Parker. I don’t usually go home with strange men, or strangers for that matter. I promise after this moment I won’t bring up last night again, or even think about it. It won’t happen again, and I swear I won’t tell Jason. So, your secret of screwing your boss’ sister-in-law is safe with me.” I make a zipper motion across my lips when I say the last part.
“Usually?”
“Never. I never go home with strange men.”
“You think I’m strange?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” I’m flustered because all I can think about is me on his couch and him holding my hands above my head while thrusting inside of me. “Are we done?” I ask, trying to get back to the topic on hand.
“No.”
Okay, then.
He walks toward me, causing me to bump into the bed. He’s so close. Close enough that I can smell his cologne. Why does he have to smell so good?
“I want to make sure we are on the same page. First, I hope what you said about not ever thinking about last night isn’t true because it’s all I can think about. And second, I hope it does happen again. As a matter of fact, I’m counting on it.”
With that, he turns and walks out the door.
Chapter Five
Monday goes by quickly, and I don’t think about Parker once.
Okay, that’s a lie.
His damn blue eyes and strong hands are all I can think about. Every time I think about what he said to me the evening prior, I smile. I can't help it. Genna knows something is up and keeps pressing for answers, but I don’t know what to tell her.
Sorry, I’m reminiscing about your husband’s new employee fucking me on his couch and then threatening that it will happen again.
Um, no thanks. Instead, I play it off as having had a really good weekend out. I’ll tell her about Parker …
Eventually.
Dr. Bradley, my new general surgeon, places my port without any difficulty. It’s a simple procedure than can be done under sedation. It sits just below my left collarbone. You can see it underneath my skin, pressing up like a small grape. It’s not too noticeable unless someone is close—or, I guess you’d be able to see it poking through if my clothing were tight. But, to me, it’s very noticeable. Every scar or mark on my body that is related to my cancer is noticeable.
There’s an inch and a half long scar on the right side of my neck where the first biopsy was done, and where, later, a lump was removed. There’s one by my left collarbone from my previous port. I had to get that one removed because it became infected. At that time, I only had two chemo treatments left, so they did it through an IV instead of replacing it.
There is a two-inch scar under my right arm and discoloration on the right side of my neck, reaching down onto my chest and under my right arm from the radiation I went through. It forms a large square and might appear to be a birthmark to someone who didn’t know any better. There is a black tattoo dot by my right shoulder that was used for the radiation beam. It looks like a small, dark mole from a distance.
All these scars and marks are the painful reminders of what I’ve had to go through to get to this very second. It may not seem like a lot, but to me, they’re battle scars. I have to face them every morning when I wake up and every night when I crawl into bed. No matter how many times I try to forget, they’re always there looking back at me in the mirror. Just when I get over them, or look past them, my family will make a comment and it will all come back. I am always reminded. This doesn’t even include my thoughts on my hair, or all the marks from the needle sticks, trying to find a vein for hundreds of blood draws.
I spend Tuesday doing some online course work for my calculus class. Since graduating high school three years ago, I’ve taken as many college credits as I can. I’m not doing them in any order. I sign up for what looks interesting at the time. Different science and math classes mainly. Some literature classes. I don’t know what my future holds, but when I do, I’ll be ready.
When the evening comes, Genna and I deci
de to watch a movie.
“Hey, I made popcorn,” Genna announces as she joins me on the couch. One hand is holding an orange Rachael Ray bowl with extra buttery popcorn and the other has a small glass dish with pickle juice. No one can sit near us when we do this, but they shouldn’t judge us until they try it. Popcorn dipped in pickle juice is so good! I don’t have to be pregnant to know that.
Reaching my hand into the bowl, I grab a handful.
“Thanks.” I dip each kernel into the pickle juice before placing them one by one in my mouth. The salty taste mixed with the tang of the pickle juice is heaven on my tongue.
She puts on some horror movie with unknown actors that she finds on TV. It’s the typical movie where the girl is at home—alone—being attacked, and runs upstairs instead of out the front door. It’s funny how the cell phone always goes dead or is out of service when she’s about to be attacked. So stupid! I can’t help but roll my eyes at the movie choice.
“So… Are you going to tell me what was up Sunday night?” she asks, not taking her eyes off the movie.
Following her same notion, I reply, “What do you mean?” I know what she means.
“I thought you wanted to help Jason around the clinic. What changed?”
Parker. “Nothing.”
“Dre.”
She does that. Will just say my name with this sad tone, then stop. Like she wants to continue, but doesn’t want to argue.
“I’m just not sure I will be up to it. I can’t commit to anything just yet.”
“I understand. I think.”
We continue to watch the cheesy horror movie, calling out what’s going to happen next before it does. Genna orders take-out Chinese for us after the movie is over.
As we sit cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the couch with boxes of noodles, rice, chicken, vegetables, and egg rolls arranged in front of us, Genna brings up the one topic of conversation I want to crawl away and hide from.
“What did you think of Parker last night? He’s nice, huh?”
What's Left of Me Page 5
