Chapter Forty-One
Jesse
Before
Bay’s eyes began to fill, her lips on the verge of quivering. “Jesse …”
“Please don’t look at me that way,” I whispered.
Her sadness shifted to bewilderment while her fingers gripped my hand. “How am I looking at you?”
“With pity in your eyes,” I told her. My father had called me out for the same thing, and I hadn’t realized I’d been doing it. I was sure Bay didn’t either, so before she responded, I added, “What I need is someone I can get angry with, someone who will scream at my disease with me because pretty soon … I won’t be able to.”
She squeezed harder. “That’s me.”
In the year and a half I’d been coming here, this wasn’t the first time I’d clung to her fingers. It wasn’t the second or third either. I made sure she was working every time I came here and with each conversation, I let her a little further in. What it turned into was a friendship.
One that meant a great deal to me.
“I’m here, Jesse.” Her face hardened just like I needed it to. “I’m going to be by your side while you fight this, you just tell me if you need anything.”
I wasn’t going to cry. I’d done enough of that.
Instead, I reached into my purse and pulled out the teal hardcover that I’d finished this morning. It was the book with the gold lettering on the spine and flowers etched into the binding. I’d been thinking about it since I’d gotten diagnosed and I’d checked it out a few days ago.
I handed her the novel and said, “I want you to read this.”
Her stare roamed over the title and the design on the front, how the flowers traveled across the spine and onto the back. “I remember when we talked about this book.”
I’d forgotten to give her the title so she could look it up. Then, life happened, and the days slipped away, and it was no longer important.
But, suddenly, it was.
Because … I was out of time.
If I wanted something, I had to make it happen now.
“Please start it as soon as you can,” I said softly.
“Tonight,” she promised, and she dropped the book onto her lap. “Jesse, I have to ask you something.” Her expression weakened but not enough to hurt. “I get why you haven’t told your mom and your kids about your disease, but why haven’t you said anything to Emery? You guys are so close, I figured he would be the first person you’d tell.”
I tried to come up with an answer. I’d been trying to do that since I’d gotten my diagnosis. It would at least lessen the guilt I felt every time I looked at my husband, every time I told him I loved him. I even tried forcing myself to tell him the truth.
I just couldn’t.
And then I remembered how my father hadn’t wanted to tell my mother when he was going through the testing. When I asked him why, he couldn’t explain his reasoning. If I hadn’t been the one to share the news with her, I wasn’t sure if he ever would.
Now, I felt the same way about Emery.
He was my soulmate. My best friend. The only man I ever wanted to be with. There was no doubt in my mind that he was perfect for me.
So, why couldn’t I tell him I was dying?
I didn’t have an explanation for that.
I just knew I wanted to protect him until I couldn’t any more. I wanted to keep all of his pain and hold it for myself.
Since there was no way I could describe that to her, not in a way she would understand, I pointed at the hardcover in her lap. Rather than give her the answers, I was going to show her what they looked like. “Trust me when I say … read the book.”
***
Birdie and I were in bed, the teal book with the gold flowers resting across my stomach. While Bay had been reading it, I decided to buy my own copy and tonight the two of us had discussed the plot. With the kids at my mom’s and Emery in New York City for work, I had the whole evening to spend with her and we used up every minute of it.
The story had given her some clarity into my world. We broke down every level, every stage I would go through, and what that would look like. And once she had a clearer picture of my future, I told her what I wanted from her.
Bay had changed my life from the moment we’d met. I told her that this evening and again when I hugged her good-bye. I wasn’t the same person I was before I had gone into the library today. I walked out feeling so different, like the hands that had been chocking me since my diagnosis were now squeezing just a little lighter.
It was that feeling, that tiny sense of relief, that caused me to pick up my phone and log into the medical portal of Dr. Moore’s office. From there, I opened the tab that contacted the doctor and I typed him a note.
Dr. Moore,
During one of my appointments, you mentioned something about a clinical trial that’s starting for FALS patients. I would like to enroll immediately. Please have your receptionist call me, so I can schedule a time to come in.
I’m feeling extremely hopeful about this.
—Jesse Black