by SE Reynolds
I’m impressed with my willpower lately. I was at the grocery store the other day with Mason, my adorable three-year-old nephew. I picked up tuna, eggs, and broccoli, but Mason saw the freezer full of ice cream.
"Please, Aunt Acie! I want ice cweam."
I can never say no to Mason. After all, he is a mini-me. He looks like he should be my son, not my sister's. He even has my dark hair, my brown eyes, and fat little cheeks. I never deny him when someone says he looks just like me. "Thank you," I say. "He's a handful."
Mason got his ice cream, and I got my rotting-breath Keto food. I was proud of myself for getting through it. But now I have brain fog. Some days I feel like I have the flu. I need to speed up the weight loss process. So, I joined a new boutique fitness studio that opened up across the street from my office. I feel like it has been calling out to me since it opened. You Want It? is written in thick white cursive letters on the glass window of the studio. I can only imagine what the townies are saying about it. It doesn't have that Old Town historic feel. It didn't take long for Misty, the owner, to persuade me to join. She and I connected instantly. She said she was once just like me.
"I know how tough it is, Stacie. I was a fat kid. I was teased, and when I wasn't teased, I was ignored. I finally took control over my life, and I've never looked back. I never liked gyms. I always felt like I was judged. I hated seeing all those skinny bitches wandering around without a drop of sweat on them. There is no judgment here. My sessions are private. I can help you maintain the weight you lost and even help you lose more if that's what you want to do. I have some low-carb recipes, nothing like Keto. But if you want to make a change that lasts, it's going to take work and commitment, Stacie. I know you can do it. It's an investment in you, after all. Who is more important than you?"
Misty said everything I needed to hear that day. I wanted it. I wanted to look like Misty. She is like something out of an old movie. She is everything that I’m not. Blonde, boobs, butt, beautiful. The four B's. Maybe I could be the four S's, sexy, sophisticated, scintillating, and smart. Well, I am smart. I just need three S's.
I look forward to my workouts with Misty. She has become my come-home person. On workout days, I leave work, walk across the street to the studio, and she welcomes me with open arms. Not literally, but she always seems so happy to see me. I then give her a bed-to-bed story about my day.
"I got to work this morning, and Taylor told me that…then I met with Laura Jones, who is finally divorcing her husband… he's a cruel man…I hate to see a family ripped apart, but…I had lunch at my desk…I had tuna salad…with light mayo…"
She listens and comments at the right time. After I end the story about my day with "and now, I'm here," Misty will say, "glad you are here, let's get to work."
Each session starts with fifteen minutes of cardio. I can choose the treadmill, bike, or rower. I try to mix it up. Then we focus on a body part. I always want to focus on my waist and thighs, but Misty says each muscle group deserves my attention, so I obey. At the end of each session, I give Misty a hug thanking her for taking the time to help me. I know it's her job, and I'm paying her, but I feel like Misty cares about me. I think we have a special bond.
Today was a hard one: incline running. Misty made me run slowly up an incline for thirty seconds and then let me walk a minute without any incline, then back up again. After the workout, I skip the shower. I feel out of shape and nauseous; I just want to go home. As I gather my gym bag and purse from the locker room, I hear a woman in the bathroom stall talking on her cell phone. Why do women bring their phones into the bathroom stalls? It's not very hygienic, but I can't help but listen in as her voice carries.
"Okay, okay. Shit, Jerry, my deadline is Thursday. Chill out! Yes, it's good. Not a lot of content needs to be changed. For fuck’s sake, Jerry, get off my back…"
For fucks sake? That's a new one, I thought.
"I got another call. I got to go, Jerry. Bye, Jerry. Hi, this is Virginia. Who? Oh, hi. Yes, I remember you. Read any good books lately? Just kidding! Sure, that works…6:30. I'll meet you at the bar. Okay, take care, Joshua."
I'm amazed how her voice changed from angry, vulgar woman to nice flirty woman in one breath. I quickly gather my things and leave the locker room before Virginia leaves the stall. I don't know Virginia, but I envy her. She has a date, a place to be. Someone is pursuing her. Someone met her, saw her, likes the way she looks and wants to see her again. She has something to look forward to. Maybe it's time to try again. I'm happy. I have a great job, family, friends, Misty, but maybe it's time to try again.
Chapter 10 – Joshua
"Knock, Knock. So, what's on the docket for tonight, Mr. Mayor?"
"Just dinner with a colleague, Mimi."
"You smell very nice. Your colleague will surely be impressed."
"Mimi, stop. Do you want me to order some dinner for you and JJ before I leave?"
"No, Dear, I have a chicken in the oven. I love making dinner for JJ and sitting with him while he eats."
"You are not going to eat? You are just going to sit there and stare at my son while he eats? You're going to give him a complex, Mimi."
"Oh, hush. Yes, of course, I'm going to eat. It's the only time I can get him to sit still for any length of time. I like watching him, his mannerisms, his facial expressions. I can't get over how much he looks like Melissa."
"Yes, he does."
"Oh, that's a nice shirt, Joshua; it's not your typical city hall apparel. I like the little pink checks on it. It goes nicely with your dark hair."
"Thanks, Mimi. It's nice to have a second opinion again."
"I like helping you and JJ. You are my family. You are all I have left. You know, Joshua, it's okay."
"Okay?"
"To move on."
"Oh, I see."
"It's okay to meet someone other than a colleague for dinner."
"Oh, Mimi. God love you."
"Joshua, I'm serious. Melissa was everything to me, and I know she was to you as well. She had it all: beauty, brains, kindness. You may think you will never meet someone or love that way again, but you are still young, and you are easy on the eyes˗"
"Okay, okay, Mimi. Let's not have this conversation right now, please."
"I just wanted to say that if you meet someone new, I'll understand. It'll be hard for me and for the woman you meet. She has enormous shoes to fill, but I would accept her as long as she is good to you and JJ."
"That's funny, Mimi," I say as I shake my head.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because…because Melissa was so much more than what you saw. She was…"
"She was?"
"Never mind. She was all those things you said and more. I got to go, Mimi. Thanks for hanging with JJ tonight. I won't be late."
"It's okay if you are. JJ and I will be just fine."
I kiss Mimi on the cheek and leave her standing in my bedroom. I slam the front door shut on my way out. I have ten miles before I get to Reggie's Bar and Grill to meet Virginia. It should be enough time to transform myself from pathetic widower to Virginia's most eligible, middle-aged, balding bachelor. Reggie's is far enough outside of Fairview city that the chances of running into any Melissa fans are slim. The last thing I need is awkward condolences filled with such a waste of a life; she had so much left to offer sympathies.
She did. She had so much potential, and so did our lives together. Still, it was just an allusion that began to reveal itself on the night of Senator Dan Helman's fundraiser. He was running for a second term in the United States Senate representing Virginia. It was a big night for Melissa and me. Mayors from all over Virginia would be there waiting for their opportunity to say the right thing to the right person, hoping something they say plants a seed in the head of someone who matters. If I wanted to take the next step in my career, I had to be seen. Not just seen, but perceived in a way that says I'm the right guy, the next guy, the one who will be rallied around. But it was more than that
. I wanted to make sure the senator, who shares the same belief system as the folks in my town, stays put. It makes my job easier and my reelection even easier.
Even though Melissa was a want-to-be democrat, she was always on my team.
"I have your back, Joshua. You're a natural-born leader. Just don't forget behind every great man…" she'd pause and wink at me.
She was right. She had what it took to be a perfect first lady. She was a natural, a beauty, and a charmer. She never seemed to grow old to me, only more beautiful and more angelic, an embodiment of innocence and polish all mingled together. She knew what to say and when to say it, and if I stuck my foot in my mouth, she'd gracefully pull it out.
"Excuse me; I need to pull Joshua's foot out of his mouth. We were just talking about this exact same issue this morning over coffee, and Joshua actually made a great point…."
She never failed me in those situations. We were a power team, and the crowds loved her, she was my perfect Jackie O. but the night of the Dan Helman fundraiser was the beginning of the end for us. Melissa was getting ready for the evening, standing in our bathroom mirror, playing with her curls. That night she was draped in baby blue silk. The dress laid over her body like a glaze on a doughnut. It wasn't tight but looked like it naturally belonged there. It was sleeveless and elegant. Her cleavage reminded me of a valentine heart, sexy but sophisticated. She was struggling to pin up one side of her hair. Her nose wrinkled, and her teeth clenched. I thought I'd do the husbandly thing and step in to lend a hand.
"Can I help, beautiful lady?"
"Joshua, honey, you will just mess it up more. Instead, go tell Mimi JJ's dinner just needs to be heated up. It's on top of the stove."
I didn't listen to her; instead, I slowly approached her from behind and pressed my body against hers. I was getting aroused. My hands played with her hair and found their way to the back of her neck. I massaged her shoulder, working my way across until I felt a lump between her collarbone and neck. She felt what I felt and put her hand where my hand was.
"Huh?" she said.
Two weeks later, Melissa was diagnosed with stage four Lymphoma.
"The cancer has spread to your lungs. So, chemotherapy is our best bet at this point," Dr. Saunders explained.
Melissa and I sat across from his desk in silence. I couldn't speak. If I did, then Melissa and Dr. Saunders would know how enraged I was. We had a game plan mapped out for the next two years, and now all our work was disrupted by her fucking disease. I rubbed my forehead to try and calm myself as Melissa asked the question I didn't want to know the answer to.
"So, the prognosis…um… what's the outlook for me?"
"Let's see how you respond to chemotherapy. We will do a treatment every two weeks for six weeks. After that, we will have a better idea of what's next."
That night, Melissa acted like nothing was wrong. JJ was studying for his Geometry test, and Melissa was keeping him on track. They sat at the kitchen table like they always did, Melissa gently nudging JJ to stay focused, reminding him of how to solve the problem she just taught him a second ago. I couldn't take the normalcy act playing out in front of me. So, I left her and JJ and went to Ryan's pub in Old Town. It was a Tuesday night, and Ryan's was dead. But Johnny was there. He's always there in his usual corner space. I asked him once why he always sits in the same corner seat. He said he left the other seats for the couples. Johnny is bald, obese, and barely five-foot-ten. I'd say he was hitting sixty, but weight and baldness can age a man. I guess Johnny knew he would never be part of a couple, so he conceded and stayed sitting in the corner. I sat three seats down. I didn't want to talk to Johnny. I needed a whiskey and a plan to solve my problem.
"Do I stink, asshole?" Johnny yelled in my direction.
"Yes, you do, fat ass!" I yelled back.
Johnny laughed his big thick throaty laugh.
"Why are you here on a Tuesday, Josh? You should be home with that pretty wife. Did she wise up and leave your ass?"
"No, Johnny, not yet."
I looked away from Johnny as my new reality set in. Johnny could sense I wasn't in the mood for the usual banter.
"Hey, Zack, send over another for Josh. I think he could use it."
I raised my glass to Johnny, turned away, and fell into my thoughts. Everything is going to change, and I can't control it. Everything is going to change, and I can't control it. Everything is…
It wasn't until several weeks into her first round of chemo I could see a change in Melissa. She began to wake up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweats. I pretended to be asleep as she changed her nightgown and put a towel on her side of the bed, protecting her from the cold, wet sheets. But then, she would have coughing fits that went on for thirty minutes at a time. It took everything in me not to tell her just to be quiet. It made me sick listening to her cough. It wasn't a typical cough you get with a cold or an allergy but a cough full of cancer phlegm. One morning when I woke up, I could hear Melissa downstairs with JJ. Words like treatable, one day at a time, I'm not going anywhere, it's okay, was coming from Melissa. I couldn't hear JJ. Jesus, she told him! Why did she do that? We didn't know what was going to happen. I was so pissed. I stayed in bed, trying to calm down. I grabbed her pillow and put it over my head to drown out any more of her words. What the fuck! I sat up and threw the pillow across the room. I pulled Melissa's hair off my face and spat strands of her hair out of my mouth.
I went downstairs and stood outside the kitchen. I smelled scrambled eggs, I saw Melissa at the stove cooking the eggs, and I saw bald spots on the back of Melissa's head. She had no choice but to tell him. JJ could see what I couldn't until that moment; Melissa, the guiding light leading me to Capitol Hill, was deteriorating.
We found out on Christmas Eve that Melissa needed another six weeks of chemo; the first round wasn't enough. I wasn't surprised. Melissa was coughing more and spitting up blood with her thick cancer phlegm. Her face was pale and drawn. She still tried to look attractive by putting on makeup. She refused to wear a wig but instead bought a collection of scarves to wrap around her baldness. Melissa tried to pretend this was going to be another wonderful Steadman Christmas. Still, the shadow of her illness lurked over everything happy or festive. But as weak as she was, she refused to skip over any Steadman tradition like baking seven different kinds of Christmas cookies so JJ and I could enjoy our favorites and not get bored with just one type. She still went the extra mile and took cookies to the homeless shelters and personally handed them out to every downtrodden soul that visited that day. I wonder if the homeless people felt sorry for Melissa. Did they want to eat cookies made by a sick woman?
I couldn't put it off any longer. I had to let the mayor's office know about Melissa. So, I called the Deputy Mayor, Karen White, the day after Christmas and told her Melissa was sick.
"Oh no, Josh, I'm so sorry. What can I do? I got this. You don't need to worry about a thing. You need to be with your family now."
Oh, she's got this, alright. She just couldn't wait to seize on this opportunity. That little bitch Karen has always been waiting in the wings, hoping I make a mistake or the wrong move just so she can pounce, stealing what I worked so hard for. But even more than risking losing it all to conniving Karen, I couldn't stomach the thought of staying home. I didn't want to be around dysfunction and decay, but what kind of guy leaves his sick wife? I had to endure. I was no longer that guy, and we were no longer that couple. The image I had crafted all these years was taken over by a perception of pity, sorry, condolence, and avoidance. I had to do what was expected of me. I needed to be the caretaker, the dad, and the nurse. I became a present, hands-on father, and a steadfast husband. Every morning I got JJ ready for his lessons, and I let Melissa sleep in until she couldn't sleep anymore. Sometimes Melissa would get up before she was ready. I'd hear the steps creak slowly one by one, and then, before she could get to the bottom of the last step, she would cough and then gag. Then, after she composed herself, she would m
ake her presence known as if we couldn't hear her choking, just trying to survive.
"Is everything alright?" she'd yell.
She could hear my voice rising in frustration at JJ. First, he'd be focused; then, without warning, he no longer cared about the fall of the Roman Empire and decided to do a handstand in the middle of the kitchen.
"JJ, help your old dad out. If you finish the chapter, I bet your dad will get you some Benny's Soft Serve after your lessons. Right, honey?" Melissa said with her arm around JJ.
"Right, but you have to finish this chapter, or you get broccoli," I said sternly.
Melissa laughed and gave JJ and me each a kiss on our heads. She'd then get herself some tea and sit with us to show support. On Sunday's Mimi would come over and drop off meals for the week. It was Mimi's time with her daughter, so JJ and I made ourselves scarce. Sometimes JJ and I would go to a movie, play video games, or go for a run, the one activity that would naturally wear him out. There were very few meaningful conversations between JJ and me, but one brief one sticks in my head.
"Is Mom going to die?" JJ asked on our way to see Star Wars, The Last Jedi.
"The doctor said he would be able to make a better prognosis after her second treatment. So, let's not go there, JJ. But, if you do, picture Mom the way she used to be before she got sick. That's what I do."
JJ looked confused as if I didn't answer his question or comfort his insecurity. I didn't want to lie and tell him Mom would make a full recovery, and our lives would return to the way they were four months ago. I didn't believe that, and when it didn't happen, JJ would think I was a liar. I didn't realize it at the time, but those Sundays gave JJ and me practice time for the day when it would be just the two of us with a special guest appearance by Mimi. We were practicing to be a wifeless father and a motherless son.
Melissa was coming to the end of her twelfth week of chemo. She was still coughing up blood, and she was so weak. We both knew another round of chemo was not an option for her. She looked like a holocaust victim, but I still called her "beautiful lady" every day. The ride home after a chemo treatment was usually very quiet. Melissa would fall asleep with her head against the passenger window. I would drive in silence, no radio, just silence. This time Melissa didn't fall asleep.
