“I’m afraid not,” I reply to the driving question.
“I told you that you’re just a sucky rider,” Bess tosses back. “One who doesn’t know when to shut up.”
“Where are my kids?” Aaron asks.
“Sam went for a walk in the woods with Alex and Jake, Trixie invited Kerry-Anne over for a craft party–not sure what that means, but there was glitter involved--and Miles is taking a nap up at the big house.”
“So nobody’s here?” he asks. I nod. “Good. I want to get cleaned up before they see me.” He looks at Bess. “Sorry about the puke, Bess.”
Bess doesn’t do well with puke. She never did. If she even sees someone heave, she starts to heave too. And the fact that she smelled it all the way home…that part is even more amazing. “No worries,” Bess says. “But I totally get to pick on you about it at a later date.”
“Like I could stop you.” He burps loudly.
> “Does chemo always make you this sick?” I ask as I slide under his arm, and Bess steps back. She lifts the tail of her shirt to wipe her watery eyes.
He shakes his head. “This round is particularly grueling for some reason.”
“Is it helping?” Bess asks.
Bess still doesn’t know that his cancer diagnosis is terminal. I think she should know or she’s going to feel like we have all betrayed her, but he didn’t want to tell her yet. It’s his story to tell, not mine. So I feel like I should respect his wishes. But she’s my wife. I don’t want to keep secrets from her. Keeping secrets, especially one this monumental, will feel like a betrayal on my part.
“Won’t know if it’s helping until I get scans at the end of next week.” He glances toward me really quickly. I know that this round of chemo is solely to buy him more time. The goal is not to fix him or put him in remission, because that’s not possible.
“The doctor prescribed some anti-nausea medicines, and we stopped on the way back to get them filled at the drug store,” Bess says to me. Then to Aaron, “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, and you can take a little rest before dinner. Your meds should help.”
“Those meds make me so tired,” he says. “I can’t take care of my kids and take them.”
“Then it’s a good thing you have a lot of capable adults around, isn’t it?” Bess replies.
“Maybe a short nap would help,” he says.
“Shower first,” Bess dictates. “Then a nap.”
“No shower. My legs feel like gelatin.”
“I’ll prop you up,” Bess replies. She opens the door, and I slide out from under his arm. He wobbles on his feet for a second, but he squares himself up in the doorway.
“No way I’m letting you see my junk, Bess. You’d never want to look at Eli’s again if you saw the perfection I got between my legs.”
Bess snorts out a laugh. “I’ve seen your junk, you doofus,” she replies. “Remember the summer we were fifteen? Little Robbie pulled your pants down in front of everybody.”
“My dick has grown considerably since then, Bess,” he tosses back. “Considerably, I tell you.” He holds his hands about a foot apart, like he might if he was showing the size of a fish he caught.
“Girls talk, Aaron,” Bess says with a laugh. “That’s all I have to say about that.”
He jerks his gaze toward Bess. “Lynda talked about the size of my dick?”
“Only once. And after she cleaned up my puke, she never brought it up again.”
He chuckles, but it looks like it pains him so he stops. “Shower,” he says.
“I’ll help you.” Bess starts in that direction. But before she can get to the bedroom, he slams the door. To her credit, she doesn’t throw the door open. She knocks on it.
“Boundaries, Bess!” he calls back. “I do have some!”
She reaches to turn the knob, but I stop her. “Let him be, Bess,” I caution. She needs to leave the man his dignity.
“But what if he falls?” She looks at me. She really looks at me. She looks at me directly in the eye, which she hasn’t done in so long that I am almost immediately mesmerized.