It's morning now, and I feel no better. Todd called all during the night; my instincts scream for me to be prepared because he will be knocking on my door at some point today. I don't really have the strength to deal with him, but I don't have the strength desire to fight my feelings either. It's such a sticky situation, then again, my life has been a continuous struggle with not only the outside world, but everything that exists within me.
I try to roll out of bed, but my muscles ache, especially those in my stomach. It feels as if someone has taken a hammer and pounded away at the middle part of my body. The doctor said I might feel this way after a seizure; the exertion is a workout session in and of itself.
I am completely physically and mentally exhausted at this point. I am trying to train my body to get used to these symptoms which will likely plague me for the rest of my life. There are medications to control some of them, but I can't help to think about what will happen once my body becomes resistant to them.
There are days when I almost forget that I am sick. I feel good and I think maybe I've been living some awful nightmare that has suddenly come to a screeching halt. I always remember, eventually, that this is not a nightmare, but my reality for the rest of my life. There will be bad spells, as well as good, but nothing on this planet can cure me. I will cope, my body will cope.
I am going to start physical therapy next week. Dr. Morgan said that it will help ward off some of the other things, like possible muscle paralysis and things like that. She speaks so casually to me, and I suppose I prefer that to the overeducated alternative. I'm nothing special to her, my case is nothing special, so that's probably why she can speak to me so calmly. Me, I'm so new at this, I don't even begin to know what to do
I hear the things she says to me, like it isn't a death sentence, but it doesn't reassure me of anything. I am still the one fighting an enemy who is stronger than I. Should I feel bad for sitting here and feeling sorry for myself? Should be counting my blessings that this is something that can be controlled, to a degree?
I roll out of my bed and force myself to go through the motions of beginning my new day. I now pray every morning, thanking God for giving me another twenty-four hours. On my knees, I also say a prayer for Todd…that he'll be okay and maybe, just maybe, we'll find our way back to each other again. It's wishful thinking, I know, but it makes me feel better knowing that I'm putting that out there in the universe as something I desperately need.
I glance at my watch, just as Rachel comes sneaking into the apartment. She stops, as if she's busted for something and I give her a nasty look. "Good morning," I say in an overly cheerful tone.
"Hey."
"Looks like somebody got lucky last night."
She smiles guiltily at me, then blushes. God, how I wish she hadn't slept with him. I wish she knew who he really is and not just the parts that he wants her to see. I want to tell her about his past so badly but I know from experience, the more you try to keep two people apart, the closer they become.
"Well, I hope you were careful."
The smile disappears from her face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just means I hope you took the necessary precautions."
"What do you have against him?"
I'm not going to get into this with her, especially not when I'm running late for an appointment. I retrieve my briefcase and purse and walk toward the door. "Nevermind," I say over my shoulder. "Have a good one," and with a wave, I disappear into the morning.
*****
When I arrive at the door of my office, all I see is Jazz's head bopping up and down to a beat only she can hear. It really is a sight. Seeing her innocent face brings a smile to mine; I wish I could rewind the hands of time.
"Hey."
"Hey, Ms. Delgado. You're a wanted woman today."
"What do you mean?"
"Todd Manning has called six times already." She smiles as she says it, like she's keeping a big secret or wants in on a big secret, one or the other.
"Ugh, sorry about that."
"No problem. He's a nice guy."
I do a take at her statement; Todd has been accused of many things, but nice isn't one of them. Almost everyone he encounters thinks of him as an asshole, but I know he's working on his attitude; I've got to give him credit for that. He'd be pissed if he knew someone seriously said he is a nice man. I make a mental note to keep that to myself.
"Anyway, he wants you to call him, and these are his words, not mine, 'as soon as you haul your ass in here.'"
"I'll do that. How are things otherwise?"
"Well, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, let's go into my office so I can drop some of this crap."
She follows me into my office and, I must admit, I'm a little nervous about the next words out of her mouth. The very last thing I can afford is to lose someone of her caliber; she's efficient and she certainly keeps my work life interesting. "So, what do you want to ask me?"
"Okay, I know I'm bein' nosey, but that's just who I am."
"I know."
"So, you've been havin' all these doctor's appointments and I'm just wonderin' if somethin's wrong?"
I exhale in relief, happy that that's all she's worried about. That, I can handle; I'm just not sure I'm ready to share my medical problems with anyone. I know what's going to happen if I tell her. She will bombard me with questions I won't be able to answer. I look at her for a minute, but I decide to go ahead and share my problems with her. I trust she won't go telling the entire free world that her boss is sick and she should know in case something happens at the office. "I have what's called a mitochondria myopathy. It's when the-"
"Mitochondria, nerve centers of each cell get a little screwed up and you're lethargic, loss of memory, muscle spasms, temporary paralysis, blindness, deafness, headaches, along with a variety of other symptoms."
"How did you know that?"
"I'm not as dumb as I look."
"If I thought you were dumb, I never would've hired you. So, how'd you know?"
"I paid attention during Bio. Are they giving you the vitamin cocktail?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Physical therapy?"
"I start next week."
"Did they catch it early? I know you're one of those who won't go to the doctor 'cause you're too busy."
"I guess so." This girl is amazing. Her level of understanding of this complex illness is absolutely incredible.
"Well, that's all they can do. You'll be fine Ms. Delgado," she says, with a confidence that only someone of her age can believably maintain.
*****
As if on cue, there is a knocking on my door and before I open it, I know who it is. Todd stands on the other side, armed with a duffel no less, steps around me and drops his bag on the floor. It's just past seven and I haven't been home very long. I am in no mood to go through this with him, lying by saying I don't want him here, he insisting that I do. I shake my head and wander over to the couch. My apartment has become romper room.
"What, we're not gonna argue?" he asks, dropping his feet on my table, as if he's the one that will clean his dirty footprints.
"I don't have the energy."
"So, I can stay?"
"No, we're just not gonna fight about it right now."
He stretches his arms out behind us; an old maneuver that many men have tried and succeeded. I smile and shake my head, knowing full well what he's doing, but not wanting to do anything about it. Before I know it, his arm has moved onto my shoulder and he is caressing me. If I don't stop it now, it will be too late for either of us to stop. I slide away, quickly ending whatever it was that he began.
"What?" he asks, disappointed by my reaction.
"Todd, we can't."
"Can't what?"
"Take this any further. I don't have the strength to do it." There are tears in my eyes, but I blink them back, willing them not to fall. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
In typical Todd fashion, instead of confronting and issue, he changes the subject. "Where's Rachel?"
"Probably with her boyfriend."
"Who'd want her?"
"There's someone for everyone, Todd."
We look at each other for a long time, not daring to speak. He definitely is the "someone" for me and maybe I am it for him too, we just can't seem to get it together. It hurts being with him now and knowing that I can't be with him the way I want. If I had a choice, I would be in his arms right now, maybe even in his bed, letting him give me that much needed comfort. Instead, we're in the same room but it feels like the space between us is thousands of miles.
"You hungry, Delgado?"
"Not really."
"Have you eaten today?"
"Uh-"
He stood up quickly and reached for my hand, "come on."
"We're we going?"
"To get you somethin' to eat." He nearly lifts me off the ground as he pulls us toward the door. "I've gotta take care of you if you're not gonna do it."
