“Not as impressive as what you will see me do later.”
I hope he means later in the week and not later in the day because I already feel like going to bed. We still have hours left of this, and I can’t imagine how it will be when it’s all said and done.
“Do you want to give me a description?” Still trying to be that vixen that I have always been, I know my heart’s not in it. I haven’t even masturbated since the surgery, and one of the side effects of chemo is a change in libido, so I could go months feeling like this.
He leans in and begins to whisper to me what he would like to do. It involves handcuffs, a choker, and possibly a whip. It sounds like the type of night I would’ve loved before.
I try to look enthusiastic, but even he can see that I’m not into it. He just pats my hand and changes the subject to talk to me about dancing.
Discussing music videos, competitions, and the latest celebrity scandals, he keeps my mind off the uncomfortable sensation of this needle in my arm.
“The last time I was over, your dad showed me some of your recitals when you were younger. I loved the one where you moved out of your spot and took center stage.”
“I got hell for that in class for weeks. Madame Pearl kept trying to put me in the back of the class to teach me a lesson.”
“I get that. My English teachers used to hate me during discussions because I would jump in after every person spoke. I definitely was a know-it-all.” He leans back and puts his arms behind his head, notlooking ashamed at all. If anything, the lift of his lips and his pulled eyes hint at a different emotion entirely.
“Well, look how that turned out for you.”
We talk about books that he has lined up, and before I know it, Nurse Rasheda is coming back to take the IV out of my arm.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
I want to say like shit. I want to say like I’m dying. I want to cry and say I should give up now.
“I’m fine.”
She sighs, clearly not believing me, then gets up to go get the forms I need to sign. I’m grateful for the delay, because I don’t know if I would be able to stand right now.
“Seriously, Monty, are you okay?” Charlie turns my face in his direction. With him being this close, he can see the tears building in my eyes.
My arm is sore. I’m so tired I could fall asleep right now, and I feel nauseous. I don’t know how I even thought about coming to this appointment by myself.
As I fight back the tears and try and stop the dizzy feeling, I have to, for the first time, admit that I might actually need people for this.
My words are watery, which is probably why they slide out of my mouth so easily.
“I don’t know if I can do this on my own.” The statement sounds even worse out loud than it did in my head, but it’s the truth.
This isn’t something I can do alone.
“You don’t have to do it on your own.”
“I know.” I wipe the tears that escape, trying to keep the sniffles in.
“You have me, Monty. I’m right here.”
I want to believe it so bad that, for a moment, I let myself. I think about needing him and relying on him.
“Here we go,” Nurse Rasheda says, coming back.
Happy for the distraction, I take the papers and sign them. When I go to stand, I find my legs a little shaky.
Charlie puts his arm around my waist and takes on most of the weight. He practically carries me to his car and puts me inside.
“I’m going to take you to my place. I don’t think you should be alone.”
I don’t protest.
