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Chapter Thirty-Seven


Nick

I woke up at three in the morning from a dream.

A really good dream, if you know what I mean.

It was Day Twelve. I’d done my second radiation therapy appointment three days before and I’d spent two horrible days sick to my stomach and sleeping off the nausea that came in waves in the 48-hours trailing the treatment. But when I opened my eyes it was to a different kind of feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I stared into the dark, at the shape of Jaymie’s body on the pillow beside me, her head turned to the side, cheek against the pillow like a whisper. Nacho lay between us, a jiggling little jello-mold of do, his girth pressed against both our thighs. I moved slightly and he lifted his head to look at me in disapproval and I shooed him off. He got up and crawled away, jumping off the bed with a thump. I inched closer to Jaymie.

I didn’t read all the information Dr. Stanley had given her, I didn’t know what protocol was when it came to this stuff, but I knew what I wanted.

“Jaymie,” I whispered, and I leaned over, pressing my mouth to her chin. “Jaymie, wake up.” I kissed along her jawline, soft little taps of my lips. Her eyelashes fluttered. When I reached her ear, I whispered, “Jayyyymie…”

“Mmm?” she hummed and stretched a little, her legs elongating under the blanket.

“I need you, Jaymie,” I breathed and I caught the soft part of her ear between my teeth ever so gently, tugging just a little. Her breath was warm against my neck.

“What’cha doin’?” she murmured, still mostly asleep.

I kissed along the ridge of her ear. “I’m kissing you,” I answered.

“Mmm,” she hummed again.

I slid my hand around her, up the plane of her belly, up her torso until my thumb was on the bone between her breasts and my hand was just under them, my fingers wrapped around her side, pulling her closer to me. I used my other hand to pull her hair away so I could kiss the back of her neck.

That woke her up. She rolled over slowly, until her hands were against my chest, “Are you trying to--?” she said in surprise, looking up at me, not even finishing the sentence.

“Mmhm.” I kissed her nose, then her forehead.

She took in a breath and I slid my hand down her spine, feeling each bump in the bone ‘til I got to her bottom and I squeezed the soft skin there gently. She made a noise of approval and I pulled her close again so our bodies touched and tangled my feet up with hers, running my toes along her feet, stroking them with my own.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

I kissed her as an answer. She tasted sweet and savory. “I missed you,” I said between kisses.

It was the most awake I’d felt since I’d woken up in the hospital. My senses were on overdrive. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, knew I needed to separate myself from her, not get closer not get inside her, yet I couldn’t stop myself. I needed her like air. I slid my hands up her, sliding her t-shirt over her head. Her hair fell to the pillow, scattered every which way. I dropped the shirt away and tried to lean over her to feel her breasts press against my chest, but my hand slipped and I crashed down from the effort. She didn’t laugh, and she didn’t stop us from going any further, either. Instead, she leaned over me.

She stared into my eyes as she leaned, and she pushed my tank top up so it bunched over my collarbone, and she pressed her chest against mine. Just the touch of her skin was intoxicating. She smiled and got up and straddled me so her legs were on either side of my torso. “You stay right there and let me give you what you want,” she said, her voice thick. My heart raced. She reached behind her and undid the clasp on her bra and let it drop away, then slowly leaned down and kissed my mouth with hers.

She brought her hands up like she was going to run her fingers through my hair - probably without thinking about it because it was something she did all the time. Instead, her hands touched my scalp. She stopped short and I felt the surprise in her body as she tensed. She sat up and stared down at me, her hands withdrawn. I stared up at her. “Oh god,” she said, “Did I hurt you?” Panic was in her voice.

“No,” I said.

She looked worried anyway.

“You sure you wanna do it with a bald guy?” I asked.

She looked surprised by the question. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” she replied.

“It didn’t hurt,” I answered.

She paused, “Are you sure?”

I reached up and took her hands and softly brought them to my head. Her fingers splayed on my scalp. “I’m sure,” I said. And she softly stroked the skin above my ear, from my temple to the back on the side without the slowly scarring wound. It felt strange, but not in a bad way, just different and new. She did that for a couple moments, getting used to the idea, and then she reached for the waistband of the little plaid shorts she’d worn to bed and untied the ribbon that held them on. She shimmied out of them carefully, backing up to pull away my sweatpants, too, and then she straddled me once again and guided me into her slowly. I groaned quietly. She sat there for a moment, her eyes closed, both of us getting used to the feeling again. It was like coming home after a long tour, like being where I belonged.

She leaned down slowly, sliding me more deeply into her, and pressed her face into my neck. I clutched her, my fingers digging into her back, her palms on either of my biceps, and her breath hot on my shoulder. I moved my hips and she moaned my name into my skin, her mouth pressed to the spot where my shoulder and neck met.

This right here was worth living through all the tumor shit. I closed my eyes. It was like the ultimate reward for staying strong. The most amazing sex I’d ever had. I was in love up to my eyeballs with this girl and feeling her so completely surrounding me in every way was like being enveloped in a warm blanket on the coldest day. She consumed me, every sense, every part of me. I felt dizzy with excitement of being so fucking close to her. I could live and die and never see another moment and be perfectly happy.

This was beyond any drug I’d ever taken, beyond any experience I’d ever had.

I love you, I thought. I love you, I love you, I love you.

She could’ve swallowed me whole like some alien in a sci-fi flick and I would’ve been perfectly fine by that.

It was slow and magic and amazing and when we were done she curled up to my side and I wrapped my arms around her and I thanked my stars for letting me live long enough to experience that and my only wish was that I could live to have a lot more sex just like that.

“Still okay?” Jaymie whispered, her head against my bare chest. “Your heart’s racing.”

I nodded.

“Okay. Good.”

I waited. I wanted her to say it’d been amazing, wanted her to tell me that it’d rearranged the stars in her sky the same way it had mine. I wanted her to say something like I know we said we wouldn’t say the words but I love you anyways and then I’d say it back. I just wanted her to say it first because if she said it then I could say it without feeling guilty. But she didn’t say it.

I lay awake, staring up at the fan as it spun overhead, waiting.

But she never said a word. She fell asleep.





Jaymie

I dreamed the sex had somehow healed him. Dr. Stanley couldn’t explain it, but Nick’s cancer was gone and the only thing it possibly could’ve been was the amazing sex we’d shared. Nick turned to me, engulfed me in a hug, swung me around a circle and thanked me for saving his life and pronounced that he loved me. In the dream, everything had melted suddenly into a wedding and there we were on some beach in some place like Bora Bora or something, entwined in my veil, kissing our first as husband and wife and --

Rusty’s nose pressed into my ear and snuffed, waking me up with a start. He was soaked. “What the --” I rolled over and realized Nick was gone, and outside the window I could see dismal gray clouds and rain and Rusty’s wetness was explained. I sat up, holding blankets to my chest, suddenly modest in the daylight. I slid to the floor and grabbed my t-shirt and bra and shorts, pulling them all on as Rusty rushed back out the bedroom door, his tail thumping against the wall as he went down the narrow stairs.

I brushed my teeth and tried to straighten my just-fucked hair but it was no use, it was unruly as all hell and I wanted to get downstairs to check on Nick before putting in the time to tame it. He was sitting on the stool in the kitchen texting when I got down there. He looked up, “Morning,” he said. Something strange was in his voice.

“Morning,” I answered.

I wanted to ask if last night had been special for him, if it’d been at least half as good as I felt like it’d gone. I wanted to tell him about my dream, that for me it’d been so good I’d thought it was enough to save a life, but the look on his face seemed somehow removed, distant, and I wasn’t sure it was a good time.

“Jason texted,” he said, “I gotta go see him again later. Sign some papers and stuff. Also, I sent an email to my family.” He paused. “I invited them to come this weekend.” He stared at the phone. “I dunno if any of them will.”

I leaned against the bar counter he was seated at.

“I figure I’ll tell ‘em in person if I can. If they don’t come I guess I’ll email it, but…” he didn’t look up. He shrugged.

“We can go to the store and get something to make for dinner incase they come,” I suggested.

Nick nodded.

“Did you take your pills?”

He nodded again.

I hesitated. “You feeling...okay...today?” I meant because of the sex.

Nick shrugged, “I’m ok.”

“Okay,” I said. “You hungry?”

“I ate cereal.”

“Okay.”

I stood there, feeling helpless and pointless and kind of disappointed. Honestly, I’d kind of thought that maybe… just maybe… he did love me after all.

“So last night was --”

“A mistake,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

Nick shook his head, “We shouldn’t have done that.”

I stared at him.

“It’s not fair to you,” he said. “I’m just gonna die in a few months and then what? Last night was a bad idea and it can’t happen again.”

So many things flared up in me at those words. “Nick --”

He held up his hand, stopping me from saying what I was going to say. “It’s okay,” he said, “I’ve come to terms with it and I made a mistake, letting… stuff… get in between last night. And I shouldn’t have been so weak.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Jaymie, I’m just… I’m trying to do damage control.” He rubbed his forehead. “Jesus I’m horrible at this. Look, lemme just say it okay? It can’t just go back to like it was before because it isn’t like it was before.” He stood up. “I wanna make sure you’ve got everything you need and that you’ve got money and that you’re taken care of but that’s as far as this --” he waved between us, “-- can go.” He turned and walked out of the room.

My brain raced, trying desperately to catch up to what he’d said, what he’d meant. I felt like he’d slapped me. He might as well have, I thought. Was he saying he was going to pay me? After all this time, he thought he had to pay me?

What was I, some kind of long investment hooker? I mean I guess at one point I kinda had been. (Maybe I shouldn’t have been as offended as I felt, in retrospect?) But hadn’t that changed since he’d been sick? Hadn’t the fact that I’d dutifully taken care of him, cleaned his wound, fed him, taken care of his dog, cleaned his house, kept him literally standing up when he couldn’t by himself - wasn’t that more? How dare he think he was going to pay me like some street corner whore with fishnet stockings!

He came back a minute later with that damn briefcase he’d made me get down from the closet, put it on the counter and opened it. It was full of money. “This is yours,” he said, “All of it.”

I shoved it back at him.

“I don’t want it.”

“What?” he looked confused. “Jaymie, I really owe you more than this after all these years that you’ve been ---”

“Fuck you,” I said, and I stormed out the sliding door onto the deck.