Ask a hundred people what love means to them and you’ll get a hundred different answers. I suspect most of them will say it has something to do with comfort or safety. But that’s false.
That’s what God is for.
Maybe in the afterlife of firsts; first look, first kiss, first year, comfort and safety come into play, but the initial feeling should make you scared and more than uncomfortable. It should terrify you to lose it.
Most people don’t know that. In fact, I bet only a handful of those hundred have ever felt it. And that makes those who haven’t had it envious, but that can be dangerous too.
A lot of people covet freedom but have no idea what to do with it once it’s earned and then find they were better off without it.
I think the same thing applies to love. The kind that can change you and twist you into a better person all for the affection of someone else. It’s both a gift and a curse and it has the power to elate you as well as leave you destitute within seconds. Because nothing that feels so good could ever, should ever, start feeling so bad. But, that’s the way of it. It’s the most powerful of emotions, therefore those who are gifted it should have the most powerful of consequences if it’s left unattended or taken for granted.
And I did.
I was guilty. I had too much faith in our relationship and I ignored the threatening undercurrent in time to save us both from being swept away.
I needed her. I needed to believe there was more for me. For us both.
I was living with the consequences with every breath I took while my days blurred with the loss of her.
And still I’ll tell you she was worth it.
Because she was.
Every second, every minute I stole with her was worth the hell I was tossed back into without her.
She slapped me. Most men wouldn’t think anything of it, but with her it was my breaking point and it was no secret why. At least for me. Abbie was still in the dark.
I scared her with my reluctance to tell her the why, when all I wanted to do was erase the wall before it erected between us.
How much I’d fucked up.
When I tried everything in my power to save my marriage it still collapsed, and so had my shot of happiness with Abbie’s refusal to believe I was a worthy man. A man better than just some philandering asshole who didn’t think one woman was enough. But Abbie was enough.
She was overabundance.
In the entirety of my life, all I knew was that I wanted to be seen as a worthy man. That had been my only goal, in my marriage, in my business, in my friendships as a coach and in my relationship with Abbie. It was instilled in me by my mother, it was my foundation.
From the time I was young enough to know better to the day she left us. I needed her, and she wasn’t there. I needed her when my marriage fell apart, when my life spiraled out of control because of it. And I needed her then, as I stood at her grave, looking down at the granite etched letters of the name of my best friend and compass. I’d relived the last day I was with her too many times and yet not enough to figure out what to do when there were no more words. No more direction. I wondered how many other cancer orphans wandered around aimlessly seeking answers to questions they forgot to ask.
“You can’t be here son. We agreed,” my father said softly as I approached her bedroom door. In that moment, I hated him for trying to take her from me. But when I looked at him, all I saw was a man defeated. He was losing her too, and it showed in the lines covering the face mine mirrored. But I had her eyes and I knew it was painful to look at me. I was a product of her and I think, in a way, that fact hurt him too. Mark Bledsoe was a man’s man, full of pride and quick to anger. The only tenderness he revealed was when it came to his wife. Despite the fact that I mostly played every sport in some search for misplaced approval, she was what we had in common. It was our love of the games that kept us civil, but it was always her that held us together. What would we be without her?
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” I said through gritted teeth. “If you do this I’ll never forgive you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it doesn’t.”
His jaw set as he studied me. “This isn’t about us.”
“I know.”
“Then respect her wishes.”
“She’s still here,” I said choking on my words. “Jesus, Dad, don’t take this away from me. Please.”
“You need to go.”
“Mark,” we heard her call from behind the door. “Let him in.”
He let out a harsh breath and studied me before he opened the door. The hospice nurse hung another bag of fluids and made quick leave and my Dad shut the door behind her. My mother sat in the middle of her bedroom which seemed unbelievably bare with only a hospital bed centered in the middle of it. Everything about it seemed wrong.
She was wearing a yellow knit cap that her sister had made for her and her favorite robe. Her body was void of life, her thin frame withering beneath the thin sheet draped over her. My eyes stung as she held out her hand, her fingers skeleton. I bit back every sound threatening to escape.
“Come here, Cam,” she said low as I took the seat next to her and took her cold hand which was covered in bandages, bruised from the needles full of medicine that didn’t help her, and couldn’t save her. All the hell she went through, for nothing. She was leaving, and my chest caved knowing it was the last time I would ever lay eyes on her.
“Look at me,” she said sternly. I gave her my eyes and through all the strength I saw in hers, I faltered.
“This is why I didn’t want you to see.”
I took in a sharp breath that burned my throat. “Mom, stop trying to protect me. I’m too old for that.”
“Never. It’s my right and it’s been the best privilege of my life. Over everything else you were the one thing I’m most proud of and I know you believe that. You know how much I love you. I made sure of it. Because that’s what you do when you live for someone else. When you have your own, you’ll understand.”
I nodded, studying her fingers, unable to speak.
“Cameron, we agreed. I don’t want you to see this. I won’t let you.”
“Mom-”
“Just be a good man,” she whispered as my father cried openly at her side. She squeezed my hand faintly before she let go. I felt the loss of her warmth and it ripped my chest wide open. She was determined. Even in her final days she kept so much authority. Over me, over us both.
“I don’t know how to let go,” I whispered. Knowing she was terrified, I was selfish. I needed her comfort. She taught me how to tie my shoes, stand my ground, and take care of myself. She taught me how to love, she never taught me how to let go.
“I don’t have anything else for you Cameron. It’s not that I don’t want you here, it’s that I can’t handle it myself. Please,” she whispered as her own tears got the best of her. “I don’t know how to do this either. I don’t think I’ll take my last breath and be okay knowing you’re here and I won’t be.” She turned to my dad. “Mark give us a minute.” He nodded before he left the room and the door clicked softly behind him.
I surveyed the space. She’d painted her walls sky blue when she got sick. She said it would make her feel more out in the open on days where the chemo refused to let her leave. But somehow, even with filtered sun streaming through the windows, the room felt ominous. I inhaled the scent of her lotion next to her bedside table, a scent I knew I would never forget, it was of no comfort and damn near brought me to my knees.
Cancer had stripped her, taking her skin, her hair, her joy and using her body as a punching bag. She’d survived it once. I didn’t know why God thought she deserved more, but I asked him. I asked him every day. And every day she got weaker until I had no choice but to accept her fate.
I could no longer demand answers but pray anyway, even if God was cruel. She hurt, and I prayed. And when praying proved to be pointless, I watched her wilt, I watched her choke on breath, I watched her cry out in pain, helpless, hopeless, it was the first time I felt forsaken and humbled to the point I no longer had an ego.
God broke us both and my father watched.
I looked at my mother, a floating vessel in a shell that refused to house her. So much life was left in her eyes, but she was stuck in a body that wouldn’t cooperate. I knew in that moment she was right. Seeing her like that altered me. It took a piece of me. She looked back at me as she weighed her words like she often did, before she spoke while I prayed one last time.
No more pain. God, hear me. You take her, but no more pain.
“Cameron, your father and I started this life together, and I want to end things with him that way. I know that seems selfish, but I need him with me. He’s my strength, son. No matter how you see it. He’s mine. It’s a gift if you think about it. I get to devastate him and then I’m free. But he won’t be. You two need to figure out how to do this on your own. Promise me you’ll try.”
“I will,” I said burying my face in her blanket. I gave myself three seconds of anguish before I faced her. Three seconds to breathe in the hell fire, breath that I could take freely, and she would suffocate for. I felt her fingers on my neck as I braved another look at her. And in her eyes, I saw the woman who gave me the best of herself. I saw a woman capable of so much more than being Mark’s wife or my mother. I saw her for the first time, a woman who was able to choose any other life than belonging to us. But we were her choice and I was grateful. And so, for my mother’s sacrifice, I made mine.
“Okay.” Grabbing her hand, I leaned in and kissed her fingers before I moved to press my lips to her forehead. Her hat slipped off and I heard her gasp. I didn’t flinch as I pulled the soft fabric down cradling her head. Every step away from that bed became laid brick in my chest. But it was when I looked back at her from the door that I realized I was her strength too. So, I gave her the only thing I could. “You are the best friend I have ever had. Even if you grounded me every day.”
She laughed lightly and made quick work of pulling up her sheet, averting her eyes so I couldn’t see her pain. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t tell her that I would be okay without her because I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t tell her that my life would be full without her because I knew that wasn’t true. I would miss her, every second of every day for the rest of my life. I would never be ready to lose her.
So, I looked at the woman who gave me breath, and I told her the truth. “I see you, Emma.” She paused her hands and looked up at me. “I see everything now. I just wish I would have seen it sooner. I would have done so much more. Thank you, mom.”
I gasped at the memory of her face in that moment as I closed the door. She died a week after I left her in that bed with my father at her side. My chest stretched unbearably, and I coughed at the stab. And for the first time since she died, I spoke to her like she could still hear me.
“I’m coaching again. I know you were pissed when I quit after I met Kat. It’s because you knew it would make me miserable,” I swallowed, “maybe you knew she wasn’t the right one, or maybe she had us both fooled.” I stood and shoved my hands in my pockets as the wind picked up. “I met the right one. She reminds me a little of you. She’s so beautiful in every way, so unassuming. She just wanted to make me happy. And she was good at it. She’s so smart it scares me, but in a good way. The way that lets you know you’re out of your league and lucky they haven’t realized it. But I went and showed her. I fucked up, mom. I don’t think I can come back from this the man you want me to be. God, I tried so hard with her. I thought, if I could get it right, just once, then maybe I could feel a little safer again, a little freer, with Abbie. With her, I could just be him. Your son, myself. And that was enough. But I didn’t put her first. I didn’t do it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be that man.”
Even if my marriage wasn’t falling apart I couldn’t help but ask myself if I would’ve wanted Abbie anyway. Would I have strayed? Would I have thrown my marriage away for just a chance to get near her?
Everything inside me told me I would have if it meant I could feel a tenth of what I felt when I was with her.
Maybe I was that fucking guy. Because I knew in my soul I would sell, trade, kill or steal for another ten minutes of feeling like that and regret nothing. But even without more words, my compass showed me the truth. Love wasn’t just about being there, it was about sacrifice. It was the one thing love required that could make me the man I needed to be. What I needed would come second. It’s where I went wrong. It’s where I’ve always been wrong.
Sacrifice would be my penance for taking her trust and muting it to hear my own heartbeat.
“Hey,” Kat whispered faintly behind me. I sighed as I wiped my face of debris and prepared myself for the worst.
“Please, please don’t, Kat. Not now, not here.”
“I’m so sorry, but you keep avoiding my calls and I had to talk to you.”
I turned to face her and was surprised to see her father at her side, holding her hand. Kat’s mother had died before we met, and it had been our common bond when mom got sick while we were dating and then passed away five years to the day we stood as strangers at her grave. She knew I would show up.
“Hi Billy,” I said with a nod.
“You look good Cameron,” he said politely.
“You’re a horrible liar,” I said offering my hand. We shared a barely-there smile. Kat favored her father and he looked like he’d aged a decade since the last time I saw him. Some small part of me felt guilty about that because I knew the cause. But she was no longer my burden to shoulder.
“I can’t believe it’s been five years,” Kat said softly looking down at where my mother rested. I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge her sincere empathy. I was too numb to her. I’d been through too much when it came to her. Still, I couldn’t forget there was a time that I loved her, that I would have done anything for Kat.
She turned to her father. “Daddy, can you give us a minute?”
“Sure.” Billy kissed her temple, ever the doting father as the wind gusted over us and left her shivering. I took off my coat and handed it to her.
She bit her lip as she cast her eyes down at my mother’s picture. “She was so beautiful.”
“She was.”
“I really loved her, you know? I felt so close to her.”
I nodded. “You two were thick as thieves.”
“I bet she would hate me now,” she sniffed.
I kept my jaw clamped tight. “My dad . . . he’s been,” she swallowed, “well we’ve been talking and I’m thinking about getting help. There’s a place I checked out in Florida a few months ago. I think it might be good for me.”
“I hope you go, and I hope it sticks,” I said carefully in an attempt to keep the peace. “I really do, Kat.”
“I’m high now,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get clean. You were right to leave.”
I stayed mute. I resented her for being there. I resented everything about the conversation that I’d begged for that seemed to flow so easily at that moment.
“And after what I’ve done to you,” she swallowed hard. “The guilt is worse than anything I’ve ever felt. I want you to know that’s one of the reason’s I haven’t stopped using. I know what I’ve done. I know what I’ve done to us, mostly to you. I’m sorry Cameron, with my whole heart, I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.”
My whole body jerked at her admission. I swallowed the emotion down and the anger that threatened. “What do you want, Kat?”
“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t help the suspicion, it fit.
“That’s all?”
“No catch,” she said before biting her lip. “I know it’s hard to believe. But I don’t want to be this person anymore.”
“Why couldn’t you say that to me then? All I wanted was for you to say you were still there.”
“I wasn’t,” she said solemnly, “I’m still not, Cameron. I’ve been posing for pictures nobody’s taking for so long, I have no idea who in the hell I am anymore.”
A long moment of silent resolution passed between us.
“I don’t think I was ever the woman you thought you married,” she admitted, her voice low.
Her hair whipped around her pale face as her blue eyes implored mine for anything I would offer. Kat was startlingly beautiful, had always been. Even in her sickness, it hadn’t faded, which made her beauty deceptive in a way that made me feel sick. And her admitting to that deception only made me feel worse.
It made me a fool. It made me feel taken. And for the first time since I left her, I saw she never wanted it to work out between us. And maybe that was the truth for me too. Ours was a marriage of convenience and I’d paid hell for it while she played numb and indifferent.
“Can you ever forgive me?” Her eyes were cloudy as I swallowed my bite and sighed. “I don’t want to know you anymore, Kat. I know that sounds cruel. But it’s the truth. I’m sorry.”
She nodded as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I deserve that.”
“I just can’t,” I told her. “But I will remember I loved you once. And I want you to be well. I’ll hope for that, for you.”
She cried quietly as I tamped down any human need to console her, and it wasn’t difficult. I’d hardened myself to the point where I couldn’t care. I couldn’t afford to. What was left of my heart, my loyalty, resided with a woman in Wicker Park.
Kat broke the uncomfortable silence. “I won’t contest the divorce. I’ll accept your terms, it’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you.”
“And Abbie?” She said as a question and I confirmed it with my silence. “What a fucked up and small world we live in.”
“Please don’t talk about her—”
She shook her head to cut me off. “I like her. Isn’t that a crazy thing to say? And I like her for you.”
“She didn’t know about you. Don’t . . . don’t fault her.” It was the last conversation I wanted to be having with Kat. She nodded as more understanding passed between us.
“I have no right to ask Jeffers—Cameron, but will you reach out to my father once in a while and let him know how you are?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Kat swallowed and shrugged off my jacket before handing it back to me. “Thank you, Cameron.” I didn’t know what it was for, but I nodded in response. She looked up at me with a forced smile. One that I knew was first nature after years of hiding. “Be happy. You deserve it. And maybe one day I will too.”
“Take care, Kat. Good Luck.”
She made her way down the narrow hill stumbling in her footing and her father was at her side in seconds. He embraced her, and I could see her crumbling in his arms. She’d never let me be her comfort. She never wanted me to see that far inside of her. A part of me was relieved she was finally letting someone else see her. I had to let go of the anger. She was never my puzzle to solve.
I looked back to my mother’s headstone wondering what she would think of me, of how I’ve behaved. Of what I’ve done. Kneeling down, I pressed my fingers to my lips and then to her grave. “I miss you.”
Half an hour later, I was pacing outside the front door. Nothing was working. Nothing helped. I felt hollow and completely alone. I had nothing to lose, I’d already lost everything that mattered.
Exhausted from battling demons, Kat’s and my own, all that was left was the new throb of Abbie’s loss. Even with Kat’s confession, I got no relief. Mixed up in a way I couldn’t navigate, I stared at the front door.
Thunder rang in the distance as droplets of rain began to fall on the porch, pinging off the empty plant stand. Thinking better of it, I took the first few steps away from the door when it opened.
“Cameron?”
I stopped my retreat and turned to see my father in the doorway, his eyes searching mine. “Son?” He took a step forward and put his hand on my shoulder as I faltered.
“Hey Dad,” I croaked out as I crumbled on his doorstep. For the first time in my life, I let him see that I needed him. “How . . . how about now?”