CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JEANIE
“You look like you’re one wheel down and dragging the axle. Coming from me, that’s saying something,” Jerry says from across the kitchen table as we share breakfast, eyeing me between grimacing bites of almond flour pancakes.
The bags under my eyes feel puffy and tender, and the black coffee I’m sipping is not succeeding in pepping me up for the day.
“Just tired, that’s all. Ava was in town yesterday and we got together after work to catch up,” I tell him, omitting the second half of my activities last night, the ones that decidedly did not involve Ava.
“Ha, that girl’s wilder than an acre of snakes. So, what trouble did you two get up to?” he asks, winking.
“Just the usual—drove around town, talkin’, getting nostalgic,” I say, not making eye contact.
He nods and we finish eating in silence.
I get up to clear the dishes and he starts coughing, the rattling hack shaking his whole body. I come over and rub his back as he’s covering his mouth with a napkin.
When the cough finally passes and he pulls the cloth away, bright red spots dot the white surface. He quickly rumples it up and throws it down, thumping his arm against the table.
“To hell with it!” he bellows, voice cracking slightly.
His eyes are damp and the wrinkled lines of his face are stretched into an expression of sorrow. Jerry comes from a generation and class of men who don’t easily or readily show emotion. I want to comfort him, but I also don’t want him to feel embarrassed. I hesitate, unsure of how to support him, feeling my own emotions raw and exhausted.
I grip his hand and look into his eyes, trying to convey what I don’t know how to put in words without making him uncomfortable.
He sighs, his shoulders slumping, and looks at me, “I’m sorry, dear. I’m just worn out from all this coughing, all this aching. If the damn thing is gonna take me, then get it the hell over with!” His voice raises at the end as he looks heavenward.
I rub his arm and remind him, “Hey, don’t talk like that. We have to stay positive. They’re starting chemo tomorrow. It’s not going to be a day at the beach, but once we’re on the other side of it, this is all going to feel like a bad dream.”
His eyes look unconvinced. “Sweetie, I think you’re the only one who really believes that. I was willing to fight at first, but if chemo is gonna leave me feeling worse than this and cost me most of your inheritance to boot, I’m not so sure it’s worth the hassle.”
I look at him, feeling a little mad and a little crazy. “Don’t you dare go talkin’ like that. I don’t want a dime of that money if it costs me even a minute with you.”
He touches my cheek but another fit takes over and steals the words from his lips. He’s sagging, looking terribly weak, so I pull out the wheel chair the hospital is loaning us in advance of chemo, and help him into it.
Pushing him down the hall, I get him into bed and seat myself near his hip, offering him some water.
His face contorts and loses color. He raises a shaking finger, gesturing towards the waste basket. Hurriedly, I run and grab it, bringing it to him just in time to catch what meagre breakfast he had actually managed to eat.
I bathe his face in a damp cloth, trying to bring him some comfort, as he empties the remaining fluid in his stomach, followed by painful dry heaving. This is the worst episode I’ve witnessed so far. I wince at the thought these might be happening when I’m not here.
I call the doctor when he finally falls asleep. Maisie doesn’t have much advice to give beyond offering him fluids and keeping him comfortable. Chemo is tomorrow. We just have to ride this out. They call in a prescription of Zofran, a nausea aide, but it’ll be a while before the prescription is ready.
Sitting in the chair beside his bed, I curl into its plush pink cushion but find no comfort as I watch him sleep. Slowly, my own eyes weighted by the exhaustion of my fight with Mason and watching Jerry battle the painful ravages of this illness, start to fall closed.
I pinch myself to stay awake. Glancing at my watch, I realize I need to be getting ready for work, but between my own emotional anguish and Jerry’s episode, I can’t possibly go into the diner.
Maggie answers the phone when I call to let her know I won’t be there tonight. From her strained voice, I can tell she’s not thrilled, but she knows Jerry’s prognosis and goes out of her way to assure me it’s fine.
I grab a hand-crocheted afghan and snuggle back into the chair, at attention, when Jerry starts to stir.
Leaping up, I bring him some water. “How are you feeling?”
His face is pale, but his eyes look alert. “Peachy,” he deadpans, before dry heaving.
Leaning back, looking tired again, he asks, “Not that I mind having you here today, but shouldn’t you have been at work a few hours ago?”
The reminder of the shop makes me wince. “No, I’m… I think Mason can get along okay without me. And I called the diner. They can cover my shift. I could use a day in, anyway,” I say, trying to reassure him.
“Well, I won’t argue you deserve a good rest, but I’m not so sure that’s happening right now. What’s this business with Mason? Something happen between the two of you?”
I try to stem the flood of words, but it all just comes spilling out, more emotionally candid than what I told Ava.
“Oh, Uncle Jerry, I feel like an idiot. I thought he was starting to care for me. Stupidly, I thought we had connected, that there was something special happening, but obviously I don’t know anything about that. The worst part is, I could tell, I could tell from the minute we met he was bad news, that he wasn’t the sort I should get involved with.”
My nerves are shot at this point. I’m not making a lot of sense.
“You’re going to have to back up just a bit, dear. What makes you think he doesn’t care for you?”
I’m wiping my eyes, trying not to break down, but it’s useless.
“Well, he’s leaving and he won’t tell me where he’s going or why, so that’s a pretty big sign, I think.”
“Leaving town?”
I nod. “Closing the shop, taking off… or so he claims. Who knows? Maybe that’s just what guys like him tell girls who start getting too attached. I don’t even know why I’m surprised. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting this all along. He told me he’s not good at relationships from the beginning. All the red flags could paper a wall. He’s never told me anything about where he came from, what he did before, why he even came to Silver Springs, and like a big ol’ dummy I just smiled and went along with it.”
Jerry opens an arm. I lean against his thin chest. “There now, sweetheart. There ain’t no man out there good enough for you, and if you want to put this whole mess behind you, you do that. You can focus on the things that make you happy. Life’s too short to waste it doin’ anything else.”
I nod along to the advice I expected to hear.
He clears his throat and continues. “On the other hand, there are a few things I need to tell you. I don’t know how much time I’ve got left, so I want to share with you what I’ve learned from a lifetime of raising and loving you.
“Ever since you were a little twig of a girl, you’ve been as cautious as a chicken in a fox den. Not everyone lives for taking risks, and that’s just fine. You, my sweet girl, you’ve lived life carefully and, let me tell you, Lola and I were grateful for that fact when you were comin’ up.
“Do you remember when you first came to live with us we gave you that camera? It was to help you process what you were going through. You’d seen so much for your young years, Lola thought you needed an outlet, a way to document and feel in control of your surroundings. But, over the years, I think you got a bit too comfortable looking through that lens, staying on the fringe of things instead of being a part of them.”
His words are coming at me, but I can’t seem to digest them.
“What do you mean I wasn’t a part of things?”
“I mean, you find ways to put distance between yourself and the rest of the world. I think deep down you’re still that scared girl who doesn’t know when the rug is gonna get pulled out from under her, but she knows it’s comin’. I’m not saying this Mason doesn’t deserve to be written off, but if there is one thing I know…” He pauses and looks at Lola’s smiling portrait.
For a minute, I think maybe he’s forgotten what he was going to say.
Then his voice creaks out. “Real, gut churning, deep-in-your-bones love is too rare and too damn precious to be cautious with it. You’ve got to give it everything and trust it won’t break your heart. Because maybe it won’t or maybe it will. Either way, you gave yourself over to something greater and, for however long it lasts, you were alive. Just look at Marlena.”
He sighs, leaning back. “That’s my two cents. Now you’ve got it to spend, save, or toss out. No matter what, I love you, and I support whatever you want to do.”
I’m reeling from this when my phone rings. It’s the pharmacy. His prescription is ready.
He claims his stomach is feeling more settled, but even so, Betsy next door is going to check on him while I run out to the pharmacy and the grocery for a few items Maisie recommended.
With John and Marlena on the television we’ve wheeled into his room now, I reluctantly slip out the door.
*
“Hi, Jeanie. Do you have a sec to talk?”
I’m in line at the pharmacy counter inside Hank’s Grocery when I hear Clint’s voice behind me, in a low almost-whisper.
My stomach clenches, but I turn around, eyeing him a warily. He looks subdued, timid almost.
“I don’t really have a lot of time, Clint. What is it?” I ask.
“Please, it’ll just take a minute,” he asks, and I relent.
We walk outside to a bench in front of the store. He sits down but I stay standing. I don’t think he would cause a scene in front of his father’s place of business, but I’m too tired and confused today to trust my judgement.
He looks downcast when I refuse to sit and instead stands up, shifting his weight between his feet as he starts talking.
“Look, I know I acted inexcusably last time I saw you.”
Big word for such a small brain.
He scratches his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I’m just trying to say I’m sorry. You know, my dad heard what happened, so I’ve been talking to a doctor over in Bakersville, learning how to handle my anger.”
Clint apologizing and going to therapy? Has hell frozen over?
“Wow, I don’t know to say… I think it’s great you’re... working through things.”
He looks concerned. “Yeah… but don’t go spreading that around.”
I shake my tired head. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Thanks. I don’t want to stir up any more trouble, but maybe you could mention to Mason that he doesn’t have to worry about me acting out like that again.”
I’m silent for a moment, uncomfortable at the mention and unclear about my own feelings.
I look away, “Sorry, I don’t know when I’ll be seeing him again. You may have to convey that message yourself.”
“Are you still seeing him?”
“I was… but, right now, no. It’s complicated.” I say, not wanting to divulge any more.
I appreciate the apology, but I’m not ready to pick up like nothing happened and be friends. I can still remember the cold fear in my veins when he grabbed me and pushed me against the rough edges of that brick wall.
He looks suddenly hopeful. “In that case, would you want to get dinner sometime? I’m in the rally this weekend. Maybe you could cheer for me.”
I try to be as gentle as I know how. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Clint. I’m happy for you that you’re learning about yourself and all that, and maybe someday we can be friends, but anything more would be a mistake. I think we both need to look to the future, not in the past. I’m sorry.”
I’m bracing myself for the angry retort, but instead he just nods solemnly.
“Hey, that’s okay. I get it. You were always smarter than me. You’re probably right. If, by chance, you change your mind, though… Well, you know where to find me. Take care, Jeanie.”
He moves suddenly to hug me, but the movement makes me flinch and he backs up, looking contrite.
I watch him walk away, relieved to have some closure, finally.
As I finish up at the pharmacy, I mull over things in my mind. Was Jerry right? Do I keep a distance between myself and the world?
Looking back at things with Mason, it occurs to me I never really allowed myself to be vulnerable with him. I gave in to desire, I allowed him in that much, but I never fully trusted him. I’ve been frustrated over how little he’s shared of himself, but I haven’t exactly exposed myself either.
Maybe he’s kept secrets, but maybe he has a good reason. Instead of giving him the benefit of the doubt, I reacted reflexively and assumed the worst. He’s never hurt me, never been unkind or spiteful… I should have heard him out.
Then there was the way he looked at me last night, before everything fell apart. For a moment, it felt like I could see into him, to the very core of him, like we had touched something deeper within each other.
I need to talk to him. All this chaos inside me is too much to process. I don’t know what I’m going to say, but I need to get all the things on the table I couldn’t bring myself to discuss last night.
When the cashier hands me the medication, I pack everything in my oversized bag and make a detour to the shop, ready to clear the air.