by CY Jones
I hate her. I hate myself for not realizing sooner that something was seriously wrong with my wife, but she distracted me. Had me caught up in the future as she played fate. How could she think I’d ever care for a child if she wasn’t here with me every step of the way?
“Why Nichole? It was me and you. You used to tell me everything. Why hide this from me? Is it possible that I love you more than you love me? Because if the roles were reversed, I’d never do this to you,” I roar.
It’s the same questions I have asked time and time again. Every evening that I come here and sit by her bedside. Garfield tried to get me to take time off, but I refused. If I had to think about Nichole’s deceit night and day, I’d go crazy like she did in the restaurant when Tyson asked Jade to marry him. The incident that pushed her too far and her frail body sank in on itself, nearly blinking out. Nichole is my light and now I’m trapped in an empty room, surrounded by darkness. Nightmares of her dying are my lullaby as my own head drowns me.
“You need to wake up and face me. Stop taking the coward’s way out. You will not just lie here when there’s so much you have to answer for. You’re stronger than this,” I cry, choking on my own words. Tears slip past my defenses and I cover my face in shame. “Please, love, wake up. You promised it’s me and you until the end of time and this isn’t it. There’s so much more to our story.”
“Is she still the same?” Nichole's mother asks as she walks in. I’m still livid with her. She knew. Maybe not the whole time, but she knew Nichole was sick and she said nothing. When I called and told her Nichole was admitted to the hospital, I could see it in her face when she got here. She was not surprised.
“No,” I growl.
“Grayson,” she sighs. “I know you’re...”
“You know nothing,” I shout, interrupting her.
“I know you’re not happy with me, but you forget, I’m losing her too. Nichole is my child and she’s going to die before me. No parent should outlive their children.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask in a heartbreaking voice. I was tired of arguing. Tired of it all.
“I had just found out myself and she begged me not to tell you, but I swear, if I knew it was this bad, I would have said something. She made it seem like all was well, that even though the cancer was back her and her doctors had a plan in action. She didn’t want you bothered unnecessarily.” I turn away from her and stare down at my wife.
“Oh, Nichole, what a brilliant liar you are,” I whisper to her unconscious body.
“You should go home and get some rest. I’ll stay with her.”
I don’t argue. Instead, I stand and leave my dying wife with her mother. In the hall, I pass Nichole’s doctor and he gives me a sympathetic look. I don’t deserve his pity. When he finally told me about Nichole’s condition, I decked the man hard enough for him to sport a black eye for nearly two weeks. I was just so angry, not being able to lash out at the person who really deserves my ire. How can I when they’re dying?
When I get home, I skip eating and just undress so I can take a long hot shower. I was tired and haven’t had any real sleep since the ambulance brought Nichole to the hospital. The bags under my eyes had bags, and I was mostly running on coffee in the daytime and booze at night. When I step out, I hear the echo from the doorbell and I curse, wondering who the hell it is now. Many of the neighbors have stopped by to give their condolences, like Nichole was already dead. They stopped a while ago when I nearly chased one off after trying to feel me up. She was nothing but a social climber with no damn class or self-respect.
I hastily wrap my robe around myself and stalk down the stairs, throwing the door open. “What the fuck do you want?” I shout.
“Do you always answer your door this way?” Tyson drawls. I eye him suspiciously, wondering why he’s here. I haven’t said more than seven words to him since that life changing dinner.
“Why are you here, Tyson?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“Can I come in or would you rather have this conversation on your front steps?” I can tell he’s not going to leave until I talk to him so I step aside, allowing him to come in. The sooner he says his peace, the sooner he can leave.
“I went by the hospital first. Your mother-in-law said you were here.”
“So, you found me,” I reply, holding my hands up dramatically. “What is it you want?”
“It’s about Jade.”
I hold my hand up, stopping him right there. There are a couple of topics of conversation I can deal with and she is not one of them. “She’s your fiance; you deal with her.”
“She’s also eight months pregnant carrying your baby. You can’t just ignore her and hope she goes away. You have to know what you’re doing is wrong.”
“Let’s get one thing straight. I can, and will, do whatever the fuck I want, and until Nichole wakes up, I will not be a father to that kid of deceit. I’ll care for him financially, but that’s it.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“I’m well aware,” I tell him dryly and he moves, getting right in my face. Good, I’ve been itching for a fight. To feel some other pain than what my wife is putting me through. “Go ahead hit me. You know you want to.”
I’m disappointed when he takes a step back. I’ve seen Tyson fight before. I know he could lay me out flat if he wanted to. “No. I’m not going to give you what you want when you’re deliberately hurting the woman I love. Do you know she believes she’s the reason Nichole is in the hospital? That if we didn’t upset her, she’d be fine? Sure, she understands that the cancer is back, but it still doesn’t stop her from blaming herself.”
“Then she’s a fool and stupider than I took her for.” This time he does punch me and I revel in the pain as I lick the blood from my split lip.
“No, Grayson, you’re the fool.” With those words, he leaves me alone to wallow in my self pity.
30
Jade
I lie on the bed alone, thinking about Nichole. Everytime I close my eyes, that wild look on her face where she demanded I don’t marry Tyson plays out before me like a horror flick. That horrible moment when she started to cough up blood and fell to the ground while I was being comforted by my fiance, thinking she’d gone mad. It’s been two months and she has still yet to wake up. This is all my fault, my doing. If we didn’t push her so far. she’d be fine. She could be the same Nichole I’ve grown to like fighting her illness instead of lying about wasting away while everyone sits around waiting for her to breathe her last breath. A part of me can’t help thinking how could she keep something like her cancer coming back from Grayson. I feel for him as well, but he won’t let me near him to tell him so or to help. I know Tyson is off talking to him on my behalf right now and can’t help thinking he’s wasting his time. Tyson is a good man and hates seeing me in pain. He has no problem about taking on the impossible, but I’m afraid in this case, he won’t win.
I’m still lying on my back, staring at the ceiling when the bed dips beside me and I’m pulled into a warm body.
“Did you talk to him?” I mumble into his neck.
“I did.”
“And?” I prod.
“And, Grayson is an asshole and you shouldn’t waste your time worrying about him.”
“Why? What happened?” I ask, trying to sit up, but he pulls me back down beside him.
“I told him you were worried about him and he reacted in perfect Grayson assholey fashion.”
“You can’t get mad at him. He’s going through a lot right now and not in his right mind. If we didn’t…”
“I’m going to stop you right there, jewel. There is no way in hell Nichole’s condition is our fault. She was already sick well before that dinner. How many times have you said she didn’t look well?”
“I know, but that dinner. Her rage. Her emotions sucked all the strength out of her and she just collapsed.”
“Still, that wasn’t your fault. I hate to blame the victim here, and I’
m no fortune teller, but in her case, if she would have told Grayson her cancer was back, maybe that extreme of a reaction would not have happened. He would not have allowed her to take on so much alone, and as of what I’ve heard so far, she gave up on finding a cure and was preparing to die. Grayson would have never allowed that to happen if he knew. I hate the guy and he has his faults, but I can say this whole situation between the three of you has only proven his loyalty to Nichole is astonishing.”
“If Nichole would have told Grayson the truth, I doubt I’d be here in this condition, living the life I am right now. The way he’s acting, I fear I’ll be raising this child myself. We haven’t signed the custody papers yet. He’s under no obligation to take the child from me.”
“You’re wrong. You’re my soulmate and I don’t care how long it would have taken. I would have eventually found you, and you’re not alone anymore, so stop saying that. You’re going to be my wife and we’ll raise this baby together. No one besides who already knows needs to know the baby is his. In fact, if Grayson doesn’t start stepping up, and going by our last conversation he won’t, I want to marry you as soon as possible before the baby is born so he’ll have my last name.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I already knew Grayson gave up on the baby, it’s just hard to hear it from someone who talked to the source. It makes me wonder if Nichole thought she would get better, and never intended to give up on herself after all. Why want a baby when you’re not sure you’ll be around to raise it, especially going about it in such an extreme way? I feel used or at least like some sort of plot in a play where no one knows the extent of it besides Nichole. “You’re so sweet. I don’t deserve you,” I tell him before snuggling deeper into his body and falling asleep.
The next day at work is brutal. I can’t concentrate on anything as I feel even guiltier about Nichole. When Grayson came in, he didn’t even look at me. Instead, he closed himself up in his office, not leaving the room until he had court. He still doesn’t have a replacement secretary, but he’s refused my help. I’m not even allowed near his office. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to deal with my co-workers looks of pity. Everyone who works here knows my story, well bits of it. The main point they all know is that I’m currently pregnant with the Hastings’ child and Grayson wants nothing to do with it while his wife is dying of cancer in the hospital.
“Hey, Jade, why don’t you go home early? I can man the desk for you.” I look up at Nancy, taking in her face. Her offer actually sounds sincere, not like Nancy at all, at least not when dealing with me. After messing up yet again on the deposition I was typing, I decide to take her up on her offer.
“Thanks, that’d be really great.” I give her a weak smile and she watches me as I shut down my account so she can log on.
Gathering up my things, it doesn’t take long before I’m in my car. Where can I go? I don’t want to go home alone with only my troubled thoughts to keep me company, and Tyson will be in court with his father all day. Making a rash decision, I decide to drive towards the hospital. Grayson is at work, so he won’t be there to turn me away. I don’t know why, but I have to see her. Maybe it’s a way to ease my own guilt. It’s not like I can get answers from her while she’s unconscious. Mostly, I want to see that she’s okay and that the hospital staff is doing everything they can for her.
I almost thought Grayson would have left instructions with the hospital staff to turn me away, but when I waddled up to the desk, a nice nurse kindly showed me to Nichole’s room. When I step inside, I sit in the chair pulled close to the bed and take her hand. She looks so peaceful, like she’s only sleeping and will soon wake. Her blonde hair is still neat as always, like someone knew it would upset her to wake with messy hair and brushed it, her skin is pale, and the hospital gown she has on practically swallows her up. I wonder why we never noticed how thin she’d gotten. I try to remember back to all those times we went out to eat and realized she would only pick at her food, always taking her leftovers to-go. Who knows if she actually ate the food or not.
I wonder if she’s hurting. I heard cancer can be painful. My eyes drift to the many tubes taped to her skinny arms from the various machines surrounding her bed. The machines that feed her and administer her meds. Meds she was required to take before now. Nichole would hate being here. She hated all the invasive techniques she went through from when she first had cancer, so being here subjected to them again while she has no say would probably kill her. Her being out of control will kill her.
“You need to get better so you can give these nurses and doctors hell. This isn’t you. I may not have known you long, but I know you’re no damsel in distress,” I tell her.
I sit in silence until my butt goes numb. Before I know it, hours have gone by and the sun is starting to set. I watch the cool colors of the sky change as it darkens, making room for night’s rotation. When my phone rings, I see it’s Tyson, but I ignore it, letting the call go straight to voicemail. I don’t think it’s right to answer a call from him in her room. A shuffling behind me gathers my attention and I turn to the doorway just as the nice nurse from before enters the room. She checks over Nichole and then moves to make sure all her machines are in working order.
“My shift is over, do you need anything before I leave?” she asks.
She’s not a doctor, but I find myself asking, “Do you think she’ll wake up?” I have this fear that she’ll die in her sleep and everything will be unresolved. I want to apologize, to tell her I am here for her. That I understand her feelings towards Tyson and prove to her how much of a good man he is. I want more time. I want her to see her son when he’s born and hold him in her arms.
“Comas are tricky things. Most of the time it’s their mind and body trying to work out the stressors in their life. I believe that’s the case for Nichole. Just talk to her. Pretend she’s awake and tell her about your day. In time, when she’s ready, she’ll wake.”
“Thank you,” I tell her and she smiles at me before leaving.
Taking her up on her advice, I tell Nichole all the things I’ve never told anyone before. Maybe the nurse is right and she heard each and every word. And maybe she didn’t, but at least when I left, I felt like Nichole had a better understanding about who I am.
After my first visit, I’ve been back to the hospital seven more times, always making sure to avoid Grayson with each visit. He’s been outright volatile, to the extent that Garfield asked him to take some time off. Well, outright forced him to is the right way to say it. I’m glad he did it. It was clear to everyone that Grayson couldn’t keep functioning the way he has been. I only hope while he's away, he’ll get the help he needs.
When he’s not in court, he’s locked up in his office, drinking. From his appearance, he's barely taking care of himself and who knows when the last time he slept, since every night like clockwork he has an Uber take him to the hospital to sit drunkenly by Nichole’s bedside. Even though he doesn’t want me anywhere near him, I’ve been keeping tabs on him since my workload has lessened. He can’t keep going on the way he has and Garfield was the only one with the guts to tell him.
I don’t know when I stopped calling him McHottie in my head. Probably right after Nichole was taken to the hospital. With everything going on, it didn’t seem right. I haven’t even been lusting after him anymore. I’ve been seeing him in a detached way as I should have been from the beginning. I have all these unresolved feelings, but now isn’t the time to talk them out. Grayson is a business transaction right now. We’re in the middle of a deal. I just have no clue how it’ll close.
“Have you ever done one of these crossword books?” I ask a sleeping Nichole. “I just started this one and it’s super hard. Is it cheating to make up your own words to fill in the blanks?” I muse. “I actually started these as a new hobby I’ve taken on. I can’t do much with this super huge belly I’m carrying around. You should see it. You’d probably think I’ve been snacking on small dogs. Please tell me it’s i
n your husband’s family history to have over ten pound babies. Wait, fuck that. I can’t squeeze a Butterball turkey out of my vajayjay. It’ll never recover and then what will I do?” I can’t be all loosey goosey down there. Sighing, I add, “Seriously, girl, you need to get better. Your husband is a hot mess and only you can tame him. He was always grumpy, but lately he’s been taking his grumpiness to the next level. Hell, he’s made up a brand new level. I’m sure everyone wants to throat punch him, but you know, he’s getting a pass because of you. Make us all happy and wake up and throat punch him for us. I would do it, but he won’t even speak to me. How fucked up is that? I make a great conversationalist, don’t I? You always said I had a gift for words. He should let me spread that gift onto him and let me tell him he’s an asshole to his face. He’s not acting like a dad at all or a great role model, unless you want your kid growing up to be like Slim Shady.”
“What are you doing here?” Grayson shouts from behind me and I jump, startled. Shit, how long has he been standing there?
I turn in my chair and see him standing stone faced in the doorway like he’s about to charge in like some out of control bull. It’s an intimidating look, but I refuse to give into it. “What does it look like? I’m talking to Nichole. You know, Gray, I don’t quite remember you being this dense.”
“Nichole doesn’t need you out of all people to come talk to her. Who even asked you to come here in the first place?”
“No one did. I came because I wanted to,” I huff, steeling myself for a fight. If he tries to make me leave, I’m going to kick him where the sun doesn't shine and then sit my ass back down. I’m not hurting anyone by being here.
“Why? Do you think sitting here will lessen your burden?”
“No, you douche. I’m here because, despite what you think, I actually like Nichole and I enjoy talking to her. That if my voice helps snap her out of her coma, I’m glad to contribute. She’s important to me too, you know. You’re not the only one allowed that right.”
