Page 67 of Riding the Edge
Chapter Nineteen
It’s three-o’clock in the afternoon on a Saturday and I’m drunk. If that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve also called out of work for the first time in ten years and I’m still in my pajamas. Telling myself it’s happy hour somewhere, I reach for the bottle of wine and refill my glass. The track on my old stereo changes and Then He Kissed Me by the Crystals blares throughout the house. Swinging my hips to the music, I pad out of the kitchen and into the living room.
An hour ago, I decided I would busy myself by cleaning out all my closets. I was barely five minutes into the task when I found some old photo albums. I thought a trip down memory lane would help me forget my troubles. That old photographs would take my mind off the biopsy results and the man I rejected.
Not knowing if I had cancer was driving me mad. When I wasn’t staring at the phone, I was replaying last night over in my head, wondering why God was so cruel. All my life I’ve waited for the right man to step into my life, someone who treated me like a lady and took care of my needs. A man who could handle my independence and still find ways to treat me like a queen. Al was all those things and more. He was someone who didn’t play games and knew exactly what he wanted.
And he wanted me.
Truth be told, I wanted him too.
His comfort and his companionship.
His respect and his loyalty.
I wanted all of it.
The good, the bad and everything in between.
But I couldn’t consciously waste his time and neglect his wants when I wasn’t sure what the future held for me. I’m not a fool, I can read people very well and I saw the remorse in Dr. Kennedy’s eyes. She wasn’t apologetic for not having answered my questions. She felt sorry for me. A doctor with her experience knows the diagnosis before the lab confirms her suspicions. Maybe she doesn’t know what stage it is or whether or not it’s terminal, but she knows.
Sighing, I take a seat on the couch and bring the glass to my lips. Taking another sip, I stare at the open photo album. My eyes drift to a picture of Anthony and Lauren. It was Christmas time, and I had taken them to the mall to see Santa Claus. Anthony had one thing on his list that year, a puppy, and Lauren wanted a Cabbage Patch doll. As hard as things were, they were so much simpler than they are now.
Back then I was always worried about disappointing them.
Now, I’m terrified of not being here for them.
My eyes fill, causing me close the album quickly and reach for the wine glass. Downing the rest of it one gulp, I lean my back against the cushions and give into my tears. As they spill down my cheeks, I glance around the empty room and wonder when the music stopped.
Alone and surrounded by silence, the glass slips from my hand and tumbles onto the floor, shattering into a million little pieces. I don’t move to pick it up. Instead, I stare at the mess and fight the urge to break something else. My eyes dart around the room searching for breakables when my phone starts to ring.
Taking a deep breath, I reach across the couch and snatch it off the top of the end table. Glancing at the screen, I see it’s Al and I make quick work of silencing my phone. It’s the fifth time he’s tried calling me since he left my house last night.
I don’t want to talk to him.
I don’t want to talk to anyone.
Dropping the phone onto the couch, I stand up. The blood rushes to my head making it clear, I’ve had too much to drink. I step over the shattered glass as my phone alerts me of a voicemail. Ignoring that too, I wrap my robe tighter around my body and make my way into my bedroom.
Pausing in the doorway, I stare at the unmade bed.
The phone rings again and this time I don’t run to answer it.
Instead, I crawl into my bed and bury myself under the covers. The scent of Al’s cologne lingers in the air, temporarily filling the void of his presence.
Tomorrow I’ll wake up and it will have faded.
The phone rings again and I slide deeper under the covers.
Cancer can wait.
