“He needs to go to the bathroom,” I replied quickly.
Andy glanced down, his face coloring.
“Oh, well I can help him—”
“No,” I cut in, a little too loudly. Andy cringed as I struggled to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t embarrass him. Only I couldn’t think of one. “It’s just . . . I . . .”
“I’ve already gone to the bathroom, man. Trust me. You don’t want any part of this,” Andy mumbled, flicking at a piece of lint on his track pants.
“Oh,” Seth replied, leading us into an awkward silence.
“Can you get the wheelchair out?” I asked him.
He nodded and jumped into action, racing around the back of the car and popping open the trunk.
“Thanks.” I smiled as he wheeled it around.
I helped Andy over into the chair and grabbed his bag.
“Can you get me a coffee and something to eat?” I asked Seth as he walked
alongside me into the truck stop.
“Sure, what to eat?”
“A bagel or something easy.”
He nodded. “Anything for you, man? I can get them to put a shake and burger in the blender for you,” he added with a grin. Andy burst out laughing. Just like that, the weirdness of the situation vanished.
“Only if you drink it too,” he shot back.
Seth screwed up his nose. “I think I’ll pass on that.”
A sigh escaped me as I pushed Andy over to the restrooms. I hated things being awkward between the three of us. One of the things I loved most about Seth was that he didn’t change around Andy. He was still the same wisecracking smartass. It was as though Andy’s dying wasn’t an issue. He didn’t hesitate to crack a cancer joke, or talk about guy stuff. He kept things real, and I knew how much Andy appreciated that.
“What do you need?” I asked, reversing the chair against the bench in the small shower room. The stench of mold and urine hung in the air, masked by the overpowering smell of disinfectant.
It might seem like a romance killer, but I’d been changing his catheter bags and wiping his ass for the past few months. It was almost second nature for me now. I knew that was a big reason behind his decision to move back home with his parents: he didn’t want to burden me with all of that. I also think it upset him, thinking about how much our relationship had changed. I had gone from his girlfriend to his caregiver. I hated being that person. I hated seeing him so broken. But as hard as it was for me to handle, it paled in comparison to what he was going through, and for that reason alone, I forced myself to work through it.
“If you pass me the towel in the bag, I’ll be okay.”
“No, let me help—”
“Em, I’ll be fine. Please.” His expression softened as soon as he saw the hurt in my eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t have you doing this for me. I can’t handle having my girlfriend wiping my ass every time I shit my pants, okay?”
I backed off. He was frustrated and I got it, but he needed help. Did he think I liked seeing him like this?
“You need help, Andy. How are you going to get through this trip if you won’t let me help you?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I’ve hired a nurse,” he said, not meeting my eyes.
He’d what? How could he do something like that without talking with me about it first? My heart ached. Why was he pushing me away?
“Em,” he said, reaching for my hand. “I want this trip to be something you remember. This isn’t about me. I’m dying. I’m okay with that. This is about me not wanting your final memories of me to be filled with the bad. Focus on the good, remember?”
I smiled through my tears. Focus on the good. If only it were that easy.
Chapter Five