Chapter 21
Leon
It pays to know people— literally. Ion connected me with a man who can get you all the information you need within an hour. I had initially asked Bethany for her parent’s information but when I called the cell phone number she had; it was disconnected. I ran into a figurative brick wall and wasn’t having it, so I enlisted the help of Ion’s friend, Trojan. Apparently, he’s a friend of a friend. I didn’t care to ask for the details. As long as he could get me what I wanted I didn’t give a fuck.
I was able to get her parents on a direct flight from Atlanta, where they had just recently moved to. To say they were shocked with my call is a drastic understatement. I spoke to her mother for well over thirty minutes updating her on what’s happened the last few months. She had expressed to me they were thankful their daughter made the decision to leave that controlling bastard, as her mother put it.
Surgery is scheduled for two hours from now, and we’re already back in the pre-op area getting Bethany prepped. “Are you nervous?” I ask as she changes into one of those light sea green hospital gowns.
“I’ve been nervous since my diagnosis. Honestly, I feel like whenever this surgery is over with, I’ll be done feeling anxious about all of this. Or at least that’s my hope. It’s not fun worrying twenty-four-seven.”
I nod, understanding how this could be weighing heavily upon her. “I know you’re scared, but don’t be. You’re part of the lucky percentage that finds this early. The doctor has told us numerous times how making the treatment choice you have substantially limits your risk to have it come back.”
Bethany finishes putting her belongings in a white plastic bag with hooks that click in place at the top, and places it under her bed. “I know you’re trying to help, but Leon, all you’re doing is giving me statistics I already know. I’m going to be an anxious mess considering the circumstances. It’s natural, and if I suddenly didn’t feel anxious about having cancer . . . well, then you’d need to be worrying.”
She’s right. I’m only trying to help her feel a bit more at ease, although I’m not the one with cancer so I’m not privy to how she feels. I can imagine it’s suffocating, realizing that you’re completely helpless with no control over anything in your life. I’d hate it. The disease would drown me.
For the next hour and a half, we sit in the pre-op area and I try my hardest to keep the mood light and carefree. I notice the way she looks up at the clock on the wall and frowns. “They aren’t here yet.”
She’s talking about her parents. “No, but their flight was delayed. I’m sure they’ll be here as soon as they possibly can.” I say, taking her hand in my own. I bring it up to my lips and press a chaste kiss against her skin, not wanting her to think negatively right now.
“If they show up. How do you even know they got on the flight? You may have spoken to them for a little while last night Leon, but it doesn’t mean they’re going to follow through. Why would they? After everything I did to them . . . if I were in their shoes I wouldn’t show up.” She turns her head to the right and looks at the wall, trying to shield her emotions from me.
“Bethany, you’re their daughter. They love you so much, and they know what type of man you married. Your mother and I had a long discussion last night about it. How they felt like they couldn’t warn you because you’d cut them out of your life forever. They could both accept it if you pulled back because of Noah brainwashing you. In their eyes, they had faith you’d one day leave him and come back to your family. And look, they were right.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so negative, but I’d rather not think too positively right now. People have always disappointed me, and if I expect they won’t come, and they end up showing up . . . I can’t really be disappointed, can I?”
The way she’s thinking does make sense. “True.”
A light rap comes to the side of the room we’re in. Though, we’re not really in a room. There’s a wall behind us, on both sides and a privacy curtain that can be pulled back in the front. We’ve had it open the entire time we’ve been here. I think the motion of everything going on around us is calming her down a bit.
“Bethany, the doctor finished his previous case a little early, so we’re going to send anesthesia in here to speak with you and Dr. Santiago will go over a few things with you when he’s ready. Okay?” The nurse whose been helping us says with a smile.
“Oh, alright. Sounds great.” Bethany mutters back. She’s trying to hide how scared she is, but she doesn’t have to hide it from me. I’ll do anything for this woman, even if it means being her strength when she needs me to.
The nurse walks back over to the nurse’s station and I look at Bethany. I mean I really look at her. I see how her blonde hair is growing back in, the bags under her eyes from getting barely any sleep, and the redness coming up her neck. I look at the bits of rosacea on her cheeks that she relentlessly covers up on the daily.
I love her like this. I love to look at every single perfectly unperfect imperfection she has, because it’s her. It’s what makes Bethany, Bethany.
She’s told me previously how she changed so much of herself to appease Noah and meet his needs. It fucking makes me sick, disgusting me to this day. He essentially made her inject herself with Botox, fillers, get the implants and dye her hair all for him. He didn’t want a wife. He wanted a fucking doll.
“You realize how much I fucking love you, right?” I say, staring at the back of her head. Bethany whips her head in my direction and gasps, eyes wide, probably realizing what I’ve just said.
I’ve never told her that I’ve loved her before, but I sure as fuck just did. I’m not going to hide my feelings anymore, not when we’re in a situation like this and she needs to hear how I feel about her. God forbid something bad happened, I’d want her to know I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone before.
“Did you just say what I think you just said?” she questions, her hand starting to sweat in my own.
“Yes. I love you, Bethany Rosenburg.” I make sure to say her maiden name versus her married one.
“You’re not going to do anything drastic like propose to me right now or something, right?” she nervously asks.
I raise a brow. “If I knew you’d say yes, I would.”
“No. I don’t want to be proposed to like this, ever,” she admits.
“So, you’d want to marry me, then?” I tease, “You didn’t say no.”
“I didn’t say yes either, mister. Stop getting ahead of yourself.” She laughs, tossing her head back in the carefree way I love to see from her. If only she was this de-stressed all the time. I think she’d be a much happier woman.