"I am a strong woman," I keep repeating to myself like a newly discovered mantra that will only work with constant repetition. I believe in the power of positive thinking when it comes to other people, yet I refuse to believe in it when it applies to my own pathetic life. I feel like I am so a hypocrite and a fraud; if my mask is removed, then everybody will know my biggest secret; I am weak.
It is the middle of the day and I am locked inside my office, literally. I have asked Jazz to hold all my calls and visitors; leave me to my work in peace. I feel like I have far too much work to do and so little time in which to do it because my number is getting closer and closer to being called. It's like I am on this crazy train ride and I'm just a passenger, clinging to the bars in front, lest I lose my grip and go flying off. In a way, I suppose that's exactly what I'm doing.
My eyes wander toward my window, the one with the unbelievable panoramic view and I look at everything around me. The sky is so beautiful; I've always taken that for granted. My thoughts are beginning to wander toward the dark side, the "what ifs" of my life. Like what if I spend the rest of my life in an everyday battle to complete the simplest of tasks? What will happen if this is my last day? Would I be happy?
I turn back to my magnificent view, unable to stand the beauty. If these are my last days, and I know that I have not been given a death sentence, but if these are my last days, I want my last deed to be saving Derek. So, it is time to get back to work.
So far, I have read the police report at least twenty times; I have committed it to memory. I have gone through my two copies, highlighting the discrepancies. I have read Derek's statement versus the cop's statement, noting each and every difference. I have got to come through for him.
I have to start being more proactive. What happens to this kid if I don't make it to the end of his case? I don't think anyone will care enough to help him; he'll slip through the cracks and live out his years trapped behind bars while his tormentors walk around, free and happy.
I am told that I may experience visual impairments. That's a nice way of saying I could go blind. I know I'm supposed to be concentrating, but my thoughts alternate between my client and my life, both of which are in jeopardy.
I glance at my watch; another day has slipped away. I'm so grateful for every single hour that I am spared and every hour where I am the pilot of my body. I have a timer that I set, telling me when I should eat. My meals are planned for me, omitting many of the salty foods I used to overindulge in. I have always tried to be a somewhat healthy eater, and now I'm forced to be even healthier.
I now drink specially mixed fruit drinks. They're not as bad as one would expect; in fact, they're quite good. Three a day, that's what they tell me I must. It has many of the nutrients that my body misses when I forget to eat. The drinks, they said, is their way of keeping me on some sort of regular schedule, and I don't resent it. It's that time now and Jazz, she has made it part of her job description to make sure I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. She buzzes my office, just as my alarms goes off.
"It's that time," she says through the speaker.
"Thanks," I reply, getting up from my desk. I already have my drink made; it's one of the first things I do in the morning.
I called my doctor this morning; just to check on things, to see exactly what Todd had told her and how often I could expect to become paralyzed. That word seems like it shouldn't apply to me, like it's part of a really bad nightmare and I have to wake up. How am I supposed to accept that the young, viral woman who once occupied this beaten body will no longer exist as I knew her?
She said that what happened is a rare occurrence, which does nothing to add peace to my mind. It worries me even more, in fact. If I'm suffering from the rare symptoms, what else can I expect? She said we will just have to wait and see, but that's so easy for her to say and so hard for me to live with.
This day seems to drag endlessly, between working and drifting, I feel like I've been here for days. I'm not sure that's a bad thing; if I were home, all of my thoughts would be filled with self pity. So, here I sit, working and thinking and feeling sorry for myself, watching the minutes tick by slowly.
*****
Todd promised he would go back to Llanview, right after he ran some errands in the city. I'm not so sure I like the sound of that because I know him and I know that could mean just about anything. My heart tells me he's looking for an apartment here, since I won't let him stay with me and he will keep an eye on me from a distance whether I want it or not.
As I wait outside of my office building for him, I notice minor things that I never noticed before. For instance, the building across from me now has a banner hanging from the side, announcing the grand opening of a new bookstore. I never even knew what it was before the wrecking crew came in and completely dismantled it.
My senses, though the tests may indicate the opposite, seem somehow sharper. As a man passes, I cannot help but notice his expensive Versace cologne or the way he stands a little straighter when he passes me. He looks me up and, causing a slight tingle to run down my spine. It's not because I think he's all that attractive, but it's the fact notices me, the sickling at all. Everything means so much more now.
Todd speeds up to the curb, burning rubber as he loudly screeches to a halt. He lurches forward, trying to play it cool by quickly leaning back, but when I see him and start laughing and laughing. He laughs too, and by the time I get inside, he and I are both holding our stomachs, roaring.
"Nice driving Manning."
"Hey, I got no complaints; I always get to where I wanna go."
As I slide into the passenger seat, I take a peek at him and I cannot help but once again start smiling. He has on a short sleeved shirt, with just a couple buttons left undone. He seems calm, and I instinctively know that something is definitely going on with him. And I don't mind, not really, it's just good to be in his presence, especially when he's as relaxed as this.
He notices me smiling at him and frowns; that's a typical response. I can only imagine what's going on in his head. His scowl, shamefully, is one of the things that attract me to him most. There's so much going on beneath the surface, so much I want to be a part of and so much I want to experience.
"What are you grinnin' at, Delgado?"
"Nothing, let's go."
He speeds away from the curb so quickly, my head snaps back, nearly sending me straight into the passenger seat in the car behind us. While his driving leaves something to be desired, there's no place else I'd rather be. Isn't it a shame that it takes me being sick for me to realize that the biggest mistake I ever made was leaving behind something as special as what we had?
He breaks the silence and my somewhat nostalgic mood by asking, "What'd the doctor say?"
I don't want to think about it, but the reality is this is something I'm going to deal with for the rest of my years, no matter how many of them I have left. "Probably the same things she said to you," I answer, not bothering to look in his direction.
"I'm gonna leave Blair," he announces, as if "leaving Blair," is a part of his everyday vocabulary. This is a really terrible thing to think, but it makes me a little giddy knowing how easy it is for him to not only say those words, but to do it, and to believe he will remain true to his words.
I want him to leave her because, somehow, it means he loves me enough to make the ultimate sacrifice, leaving his family. I am no longer angry with him for the past. I no longer think about those bad times, or even remember why I walked out on something so beautiful. To me, that says it's time to follow my heart, which always, somehow, leads me back to him.
"I can't take it anymore," he continues, "I can't take her anymore."
"But your kids, they need you, Todd."
"You think I don't know that?" By this time, we have pulled onto a side street and he turns toward me. "I don't know what to say," he sighs.
"About what?"
He rakes his fingers through his hair nervously, searching for the words which so often elude him. I am patient though, so I wait out his struggle. His eyes sparkle, like the gleam from polished stone, softer than I remember and much, much sexier. "Okay, you know how you're all good with words and stuff?"
"As I recall, you're quite good with words when you want to be."
"And I wanna be right now, but I can't get it right." He punches the steering wheel, angrier with himself than with me. "Okay," he begins again, "I'm never happy, you know that and when, when things were good between us, I thought maybe I was." He takes a breath and holds it for a moment. "Nobody's every really loved me, not really, not 'til you and okay, you can't tell anybody this."
"I won't."
He waits a long time before speaking again. "It felt so good, Tea. I want that again and this thing with Blair, it was a huge mistake and I'm sick of makin' 'em. I just wanna be with you and that's it."
In the bottom of my stomach, there is this nagging feeling, reminding me that Jack is Todd's son, Blair is the mother of both his children and it looks like I am just an interruption. Then, I am reminded that life is too short and the only time I was really happy, was when I was with Todd. Is love wrong?
"I know I fucked up, Tea, but whenever I see other men looking at you, it's like somethin' in me goes crazy and I can't help it."
He shifts his weight repeatedly, uncomfortable by the raw honesty that exists between us at this moment. This is what I've always wanted, but if I accept it now, it will be for the wrong reasons. He is offering me everything because I am sick. I'm sure he loves me but I do not think he would give up his family if it weren't for this horrible thing.
"You're so beautiful, Tea, I just get so scared."
"Why?"
"Because you can have any man you want and I…I just can't understand why anybody would choose me. There, I said it."
I wish I could accept this life raft he is offering, but I have fears too, most of which have to do with his wife. I know what will happen; she will call constantly with her little emergencies. And he'll have to go to her because I'm nothing but the other woman. I cringe at the very thought.
"Aren't you gonna say somethin'?" he asks, perhaps a little afraid of my response.
There is so much I want to say to him, but what I want and what I should say are two completely different things. The majority of my life has been about what I should do or what other people think I should do; my wants and needs have so often gone unfulfilled. I've never complained, simply accepted this as my fate.
Let me take Blair and his children out of the equation and look at it as just being between us. Let's say he and I manage to get back together and then I die, where would that leave him? He would be left with nothing, all because he left everything to be with me.
I know the doctor says this is treatable, though not curable, but something could go drastically wrong. People have died from this disease and not everything is known about it. So basically, she's just taking educated guesses, and, I suspect, telling me much of what I want to hear.
My throat has all but closed up and there are no words right now. I have no idea what to say; here's the dilemma: I'm either going to take him away from his family and feel guilty for the rest of my life, or we're going to be together with the rancid scent of death, cutting through the air. I have no idea which is worse, so I turn away from him, lean my head against the window and begin to cry.
