“You saw her in June. It’s September. The doctors did a biopsy and its cancer.” The dreaded C word makes my mind buzz into numbness. I listen to my dad say a bunch of other things that don’t register. Surgery. Chemotherapy. Radiation. Medication trials. The only word I’ve heard so far is cancer, and it scares the shit out of me.
“D-dad… are you sure it’s cancer?” The word feels thick, unused and tainted. Immense regret fills me and tears pool, blinding my vision as I sink to the floor prostrate. All I can think about are the phone calls I didn’t take the past week or so, ignoring life outside our happy little bubble, and as fate would intervene, our bubble is now obliterated. The balloon of happiness pops and deflates to nothing but limp plastic.
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve been the only one here to handle things.” Angrily, he lashes out at me, and I take it because part of me feels like I deserve it. “I needed you here and you left us.” I did run away. Dad goes on about doctor appointments, treatment options, my sister’s work schedule reduced, her obvious stubbornness, and Lucas moving in with her much to his dismay. I can barely process it all. My sister, my older, wiser, more perfect sister, has cancer.
Just.
Like.
Mom.
I hang up the phone and fleeting memories of our childhood surface. I want to fold in on myself and lock out the bad. I remember our last trip to the aquarium for one, just the three of us girls. Leah and I fighting constantly over something and Mom gently intervening and making both of us somehow feel validated and apologetic at the same time. Leah’s bullying ways.
I love my sister, but have barely been able to understand the increasing distance in our relationship as we got older. I think about all the boyfriends she stole from me, and I half laugh and cry because, really, I wonder if that was her way of protecting me. They were pretty terrible as boyfriends, and she would always dump them as soon as I got over them. Except for maybe Lucas… He seems pretty firmly entrenched in our lives and Dad’s firm.
I’m overwhelmed and the thought of losing someone who was jus
t as close to our mother as I was is devastating to even consider. The cries that rack my body are surprising and terrifying. Ugly fat tears run down my face, blinding me with stinging salt. Roman runs into the bedroom, scooping me up. He’s asking me all sorts of questions and I don’t know how to answer him except to clutch his safe arms and blubber out words.
“Roman, it’s my sister. Leah has cancer and it’s just like my mom all over again.” I’m huffing air to catch my breath. He just holds me closer in the only way I guess he can.
“Breath, baby. Your lips are turning color.” His grip is tight and unrelenting, and the pain of his hold is the only thing giving me purchase to feel alive. Lack of oxygen has me swimming near the edge of unconsciousness and he shakes me back to reality.
“Roman, what will I do?” The shaky intake of breath makes me nauseous.
“Let’s get you home, sweetheart.” I know I love this man unexpectedly and wholly in this moment. He rocks me gently and kisses my hair as he brushes the wild mess from my teary face. I have no idea how we’ll make this work. Can we make this work? “Let me make the arrangements and take care of you.” Roman hushes any protests I might have and, instead, tucks me into the bed under the covers. “I’ll be right back.” He kisses me again and leaves the bedroom. The silence hurts, but I have to trust we’ll get through this. I allow myself to block out the pain and drift into exhaustion.
* * * * *
“Yes, I want a first-class ticket on the next flight out of Seattle, direct to LA. Yeah, I know what it costs, and I’m not limited by a budget here, Gary. Just get me the ticket. Round trip? No, but leave the option open. Car service? I’m not sure, but yes just in case. I don’t want her to have to worry about anything.”
The mattress dips, and a hand rests on my leg for a moment, rubbing warmth into me. Roman is sitting on the bed next to me when I open my eyes, threading his fingers through my hair. I’m more relaxed now, stunned by the shock I suppose. His palm cradles my cheek tenderly and his callused thumb brushes away another teardrop. His eyes look into mine and I realize he just booked me a flight ticket home… as in singular. He’s not coming with me.
The boat no longer feels as smooth sailing as it did previously. My stomach wants to revolt both from nerves and the pitch of the waves the boat’s sleek hull cuts through. I can tell it’s moving at a clip, but my brain is still disoriented from my dad’s phone call and bawling my eyes out to Roman. To say I feel insecure is a bit of an understatement.
Roman hangs up the phone and tosses it on the edge of the bed. “Come here, Hollywood.” He crawls over me and strips the bedding away, peeling me from between sheets and pillows, tugging me in the direction of the bathroom. I stumble into Roman’s backside and he turns, placing his warm hands over my bare shoulders.
“What?” My voice croaks from the tears earlier. He looks deep in thought as a breath escapes his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. The sudden distance between us feels more than just a pending flight away. Why does this feel like fucking goodbye?
“Nothing. I just don’t ever want to be a reason you cry, Abigail.” He smiles softly, and if I could have puddled on the floor, I would have. Instead, I follow him mindlessly into the bathroom on unsteady legs. He sets me in the corner and gets the shower going. I watch him grab his T-shirt by the back of his neck and deftly pull it off, tossing it on the floor. Next he’s pulling me toward him and lifting my top up and off me, dropping it on the floor next to our little pile. His eyes don’t leave mine for even a millisecond to look at my now naked body. I feel like he’s imprinting me in his mind for some reason. I pray this isn’t a goodbye of some kind, one last intimate sendoff, but I can’t be sure.
“R-roman…” There is so much I need to say to him, but he puts his finger to my lips and kisses my temple instead. I let my brain yell, I LOVE YOU SO DAMN MUCH, because I can’t get my mouth to form words, except to utter hoarse choking cries. I pray he hears me through all of this.
“Shhh,” he tells me and then drops to his knees to kiss my belly and peel my panties from my hips. I reach a hand into his hair, running my fingers into the soft strands while looking up at the ceiling for hope or divine intervention to fix this, because I sure as hell can’t. I can’t believe we were so close and now so far. He hugs my knees and spends time with his head against my lap, kissing me wherever he can reach. I tug a bit and he looks up, eyes sparkling with mischief as he stands and peels his own lounge pants off.
We step into the shower and everything is slow and savored from the way he washes my hair to the way he trails his fingers over my skin—delicately loving and tracing my body, as if he could draw me for eternity. I don’t want a moment of this to end, because now, I finally know what love feels like.
ROMAN
I don’t want a moment of this to end… I never got a chance to ask my parents during their lifetime how you know when someone is the one. Death and a drunk driver cheated me of those things twice. I want to tell Abby I love her so damn much, but I don’t want her to feel obligated to return to me out of guilt. You know that saying: if you love something, set it free…
I fucking hate that saying. I have to let her go, because damn if our timing isn’t the worst possible thing right now. I need to be there for her no strings attached, because if she comes back to me—when she comes back to me—I don’t ever want to let her go. I fucking hate letting go.
The shower is hot and steam covers the glass instantly, embracing us one last time. She stands with her back to me and I wash her hair slowly, massaging her temples and scalp, running my fingers through her golden hair until I hear her moan against the tiled walls. I step forward crowding her in, pressing her against the wall. I kiss every possible inch of skin on her neck and trace my hands over her body. God help me if I forget a single curve or soft spot of her body while we’re briefly separated, and it will be brief.
“Roman…” I love how she says my name, dragging out the first syllable like it will prolong the limited time we have. My crew is sailing us back to the marina as fast as they safely can. This isn’t the getaway I had hoped to make for us, but it’s not like my boat is going anywhere until she comes back. We’ll have just enough time for me to drive her to the airport, breaking a few speed limits. I’ll get her car to her in a week or so when I have time to drive it down. We’ll worry about the rest later. I just need her to smile again and be all right. Her body is tight like a cable ready to snap and fray at any sign of weakness.
“Let me take care of you, Abby. Let me do all of the worrying until you get there.” She nods and leans back into me as the water sluices over our bodies. I use the soap from the bodywash to make her skin slick. She reaches back and puts her hands into my hair holding me close to her. The feel of her fingers touching me is both soothing and painful because I know putting her on a plane is the last thing I want to do.