25

“SHADY, I NEED a minute,” I say, only moments after the doctor left me alone with my thoughts. He nods and walks out. I feel the burn in my eyes and the sob building in my throat. It’s just before escaping when I hear her sweet voice.

“You know, Samson lost his vision too.” I turn to see Saylor on her side, her hand shoved under her cheek, studying me. Apparently, the anesthetic they gave her to help her rest wore off. And it did so just in time to hear the doctor tell me her fate.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, Dirk,” she says, and despite the circumstances, she smiles, bringing light to the darkness that is clouded around me. “If I can’t see, it will heighten my other senses and I’ll be able to appreciate more about you than your good looks.”

I give her the smile she deserves, and listen as she continues to comfort me when it should be the other way around. “If I can’t talk, you’ll get to say all the things I never gave you time to say before.” I laugh and shake my head, completely amazed that she has the ability to bring me joy when all I want to feel is sorrow.

“If I can’t move, then I know you will carry me everywhere we go, and there is no place I would rather be than in your arms.” I feel my smile fade, wondering what her solution is to the other problem. When she doesn’t offer it, I ask.

“And what if you forget me?” This time, there is no smile on my face. There is no joy in my heart and there is nothing she could say to convince me that this loss has a positive outcome.

“Then you will find a way to make me fall in love with you all over again.” And just like that, I’m convinced.

—

I’m signing my discharge papers from the hospital, but leaving is the last thing I plan to do. As long as Saylor is here, I will be too. Even the minutes I’m away from her to piss, or shower, are crucial minutes I’ve lost and will never get back. With that being said, I’ve cut my showering time down to about two minutes and leave the bathroom door open when I piss.

I’ve only left her side once, and it was to visit the chapel downstairs. I prayed, cried, and begged for a miracle from God, but I asked that it be in Saylor’s favor. If he was a miracle worker, then maybe the tumor would shrink on its own and we could wake up from this bad dream. I didn’t care if getting my hopes up was a bad idea or not. I was convinced that he was gonna pull through.

When I made it back upstairs, Saylor didn’t ask where I’d been, but I suspected she already knew. Maybe it was God telling me that he was listening. Maybe Saylor was stronger than what we thought or maybe the medicine was weaker than they claimed it was. Whatever the reason, in two days’ time, Saylor’s side effects were nonexistent. When Dr. Zi came in to discuss her blood work, even he was amazed at how normal everything was.

Her red blood count was perfect. Her white even more perfect and her strength was back, as was her appetite. When she scarfed down the cheeseburger Rookie brought me for lunch, the doctor and I both watched in amazement. It was as if none of this had ever taken place.

When Dr. Zi asked if she would like to undergo another CT scan to check on the status of growth, she refused. She claimed it didn’t matter one way or another. I guess she had a point.

He then informed her that she would need to come in weekly, and before he could explain why, she cut him off and thanked him for his service and that she would keep in touch, but it would be over the phone. He didn’t argue and I found his decision very wise.

We visited the treatment center, where Saylor dropped off letters for all her fellow chemo patients. It was Tuesday, and Ralph and Hershel, who took treatments five days a week, were there to tell her good-bye in person.

The nurses promised to carry on Saylor’s legacy and celebrate the life of the patients there. Dr. Marks had insisted that all the posters be framed with a gold plaque on the bottom, labeling their name, date of birth, and date of death. This seemed to please her and I felt proud knowing that this woman, my woman, had made a difference.

Before we left, she stood in the middle of the floor while everyone watched her close her eyes, extend her arms, inhale, and smile. And unbeknownst to her, I captured the moment.

We stopped at Dairy Queen, where we both got the Peanut Buster Parfaits and Saylor ate every bit of hers.

“I see you have your appetite back,” I say, looking questioningly at her. Was it possible? I thought if you didn’t eat, your stomach shrunk. I guess in Saylor’s case, it didn’t.

“I’ve always been a big eater. You know that. That’s what I hated most about chemo, I couldn’t eat. And I was always so hungry.” I feel my face frown at the thought of Saylor going hungry all those nights. I’d never missed a meal, although she never saw me eat one. Now it made me feel guilty. Maybe that’s why she never mentioned it. “But I plan to make up for it. I hope you like big girls because I’m fixing to pack on the pounds.” This turns my frown into a laugh.

“First of all, you got a lot of eating to do if you want to be a big girl. And second, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’ve always had a thing for big girls.” Just the thought of Saylor with a fat ass, wide hips, curves in all the right places, and tits that bulge out the top of her shirt has me nearly coming in my jeans.

“You know, there is a lot I don’t know about you,” she says, the mischievous smile on her face making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Ask me anything.” Hopefully, she would keep it G-rated.

“What is your last name?” Her question catches me completely off guard—more from the fact that she doesn’t know it.

“Dixon.”

“Dirk Dixon. I like it,” she says, letting the name roll off her tongue again and again. In the MC, I was just Dirk. I never had a reason to use my last name. And when I did have to use one, it usually wasn’t mine.

“If you weren’t a Nomad, what would you be?” Nothing, I’m sure. Talk of the MC and my position in it is not something I want on my mind right now, so I give her an answer that is sure to avert her attention.

“A priest.” She bursts out laughing, and it’s a stomach-holding, eye-watering, lose-your-breath kind of laugh that has me taking a mental picture. It’s a look I never want to forget.

“Okay, one more and you have to be honest.” I agree, and wait for her to finish laughing. “Who was your first?” That one was easy and one I would never forget.

“Her name was Harper Sloan. I was sixteen and she was thirty. Her dream was to fuck on the back of a bike and I helped her fulfill it. You should thank her; she taught me everything I know.” I wink at Saylor and she smiles at me.

“Maybe I will. Do you know where I can find her?”

“She lives in Georgia. Last I heard she was stripping at Magic City.” I watch her fidget a minute and then ask the typical question all women ask when you talk about previous lovers.

“Was she better than me?” Any other time I would lie, but this is Saylor, so I don’t have to. I grab her hand and kiss the back of it, then tell her the words I know she is expecting to hear.

“Nobody is better than you.” And it’s the fucking truth.

—

“I want to go home” are the words I woke to the next morning.

“Okay,” I tell her simply. There is no place I’d rather be than in Jackpot with her. Home. “I’ll call Shady and get him to book us a flight.”

“What about our car?”

“We’ll buy another one.” She rolls her eyes at me and sits up, reaching to smooth out her long hair that isn’t there anymore. I noticed she did this often. I guess old habits are hard to break.

“There isn’t anything here I want to take with me. I just want to go.” I know she wants to go home, but I can hear the sadness in her voice as she looks around the place that, until recently, has been her home. “I’ve been here for six years and the only happy memories I have here are with you, or have been made since I started treatment. Donnawayne and Jeffery always insisted I go to their place. It’s a lot nicer.” Silence fills the room and I know if I don’t say something, she is likely to fall apart.

“I know this place in Jackpot, Nevada. It’s beautiful. Like the woman who lives there. And the only happy memories I have of it are with her.” She looks at me over her shoulder and smiles.

“Will you take me there?” she asks, that playfulness I’ve missed is back, and it’s promising. I don’t answer her, I just reach over and grab my phone from the couch.

“Shady, we want to go home.”