Sixty-one
IT RAINEDlike the dickens the next day, and Brendan disappeared for several hours. He was starting to worry me, I’ll admit. I was afraid that he might not come back one of these times, that he could get terribly sick or black out while driving, something bad. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle by the time he pulled into the driveway about four.
I couldn’t wait to see him, so I ran outside into the rain and kissed him through the open window. I was sohappyto see Brendan.
“Where’d you go?” I asked. “I woke up about seven and you were gone.”
“Had a doctor’s appointment in Chicago. You were snoring your pretty head off. I thought I’d let you sleep.”
I made a face. “Idon’t snore.”
“No, of course not.” Then Brendan shot me one of his grins.
I didn’t completely let him off the hook. “What did the doctor say?”
Brendan blinked, evidently composing what he was about to tell me. “The tumor is getting bigger,” he said at last. “Not the greatest news, I’m afraid. Not too much of a surprise, though.”
Then he covered the left side of his face with his hand. He drummed his fingers on his cheekbone. “I’m losing some mobility, Jennifer. Face is getting numb. I can’t feelthis.”
I stroked his cheekbone myself.
“Sorry. I can’t feel that, either. But I love your touch anyway. I love everything about you, Jennifer. Don’t you forget that.”
Brendan struggled with his footing when getting out of his Jeep. He almost fell. I was stunned, and suddenly realized how bad his day must have been. He smiled, though, and then touched my cheek. “I need a little nap. I think I’ll go over to Shep’s. I’ll see you later, Jen.”
“Are you okay?” I asked. I wanted to take Brendan’s arm, to help him, but I was afraid he might not like it.
“Sure I am. Just tired. I’m fine. Just need a nap.”
It was only four in the afternoon, but I lay down with Brendan anyway. I wanted to be beside him, to feel his touch, to let him know that I was there for him. I was petrified inside, maybe realizing for the first time that Iwasgoing to lose Brendan and feeling what it would be like, and hating the feeling so much.
“Thanks,” he whispered. “Tired.”
Then he was gone.
Brendan slept in spurts. He clenched his fists several times. After about fifteen minutes, his eyes snapped open and he looked dazed. “Oh boy, Jennifer. Seems I dozed off, huh? More like I fell off a cliff.”
I asked if he was in any pain and he answered by asking me to get a bottle of pills from his jacket. When I returned, his bed was empty and I heard him being sick in the bathroom. I was starting to get really scared now. I wasn’t ready for this. Brendan had told me repeatedly that he could get worse in a hurry, but I’d chosen not to believe it.
“Jen, the Percocet is going to knock me out,” he said when he appeared from the bathroom. “I’ll sleep right through. Why don’t you go home. Please. Do it for me. I love you dearly. And you are the most beautiful girl in the world, not just the lake. Go home for a while.”
This was a little strange, but I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—argue with him. I kissed Brendan on the forehead, on the cheek, then lightly on the lips.
“I felt that.” He smiled.
So I kissed Brendan again.
And again.
The truth was, I didn’t want to stop kissing him ever.
Sixty-two
I HADa really bad feeling all through the night. Shep was at his house back in Chicago, so I checked on Brendan every couple of hours. Then I finally fell asleep back at Sam’s. He’d made it clear he didn’t want me with him that night. I felt I needed to respect that.
When I woke up, it was morning and I was alone in my old room. The sun burned through the gauzy curtains, and my thoughts immediately went to Brendan. And what I thought was,Brendan is going to die soon. And there was nothing I could do about it.
I listened for his yell—and then I remembered. I’d left him at Shep’s house, knocked out by painkillers. I pulled myself out of bed and dressed in the first clean things I could find: washer-wrinkled khakis and a white T-shirt. I jammed my sockless feet into sneakers and went downstairs to the kitchen.
