Let Him Cry Pt. 01

"You're not making sense, Matt."

I stared at her. In retrospect, it was probably the befuddled expression of someone who was half in the bag. At the time, it felt like momentous pondering. I pulled out my phone, thumbed up the video app, and set it in front of her. "Play that."

I stood and went into the kitchen for more ice and another shot. I didn't need to watch it. I'd seen the video a hundred times at least. I knew exactly what Liv would look like and exactly what she would say.

It would open with her sitting at the table, looking strained and sad. She'd fidget with the phone in nervousness before taking a deep breath and looking into the camera. She would be trying to smile as she broke my heart:

"Hello, honey.

"I don't know if you've realized but I've left. I'm not coming back. I love you more than I can express. I have loved you since long before you put a ring on my finger and, a few arguments and fights notwithstanding, I have never stopped loving you even for a second.

"But I can't stay.

"I can't have you see what's going to happen to me. I can't have you watch me getting weaker and weaker, vomiting all over the place, my boobs and ass disappearing, losing my memory, becoming progressively more incontinent, and all the other things that this fucking disease brings with it. I can face dying, but I can't face you seeing me that way.

"I know that you'd choose differently, that you love me enough to stick it out, but I'm too proud to be okay with that, and I'm going to be selfish and not give you a vote.

"I'm going somewhere -- I'm not going to tell you where -- and enjoy some sun. I've already made arrangements for hospice care once things get to that point. Until then, I'll enjoy whatever pleasures I can: more alcohol than I should regardless of what the doctors advise, possibly a few recreational substances, no limit on chocolate cake, and maybe even ogle a pool boy or two." A little smile crossed her face as she said that before turning serious again.

"Please don't try to find me. I removed your name from the list of people they can talk to about my condition, and I'm pretty sure HIPAA laws will keep them from telling you anything. I won't be using an ATM or credit cards. Don't try to ping my cell phone. Oh, it's on the desk, by the way; don't forget to cancel it.

"Just let me go and try to forgive me for robbing you of our last month or so together. A quiet night cuddling with you was ... well, I can't think of any other way I would have liked for our last evening together to go. It was perfect. If it's any consolation, it's not just you; my sister won't know either.

"Before I finish, I want to say a couple of things.

"First, again, I love you and I have never regretted that. I never regretted dumping Whatshisname to be with you. I never regretted following a boy -- you, that is -- to another part of the country. I have never regretted marrying you.

"I have only one regret, and that is I didn't press when you wanted to wait on children. Somehow, knowing that there was a piece of you and me that was going to go on past this situation would make it better. I even thought about freezing some eggs so you could have a child that way if you wanted, but the doctors tell me it's not a good idea with the chemical cocktails in me. I'm not angry at you for wanting to wait, but I am sad. I like the thought of a little Matt or a little Olivia running around."

I heard Tatyanna's catch of breath from the living room. She'd listened to Caitlyn's explanation and now she heard the same words I had. I felt the tears start to run down my cheeks again. Liv's voice continued.

"If you ever have a little girl, consider giving her a middle name of Olivia."

Liv's voice stopped suddenly, and I remembered the distraught look, the shake of her head. "No, forget that! It's not fair to ask that of some future woman in your life.

"My will is in the safe deposit box at the bank. Everything goes to you except for my mother's jewelry, which I've left to my sister. It's only a few pieces and I hope you don't mind. We didn't have a daughter and I think it should stay in the Metcalfe family. She'd never dream of asking you for it, so will you make sure she gets it?

"Honey, despite my joke about pool boys -- and it was a joke -- I want you to know you've been the only guy for me since we met at that party. Maybe you've wondered what happened on that Spring Break when I was in Cabo with my friends, and we hadn't had the 'we are exclusive' talk yet. The answer is nothing, not even a kiss, despite getting hit on a ... well ... a Spring Break number of times." She giggled at her turn of phrase before turning serious again. "I already knew you were what I wanted.

"Last, I will be well and truly pissed off if you spend the rest of your life pining. I expect you to be sad. My ego hopes you'll be heartbroken for a while. But, someday, I need you to pull your head of the ass it's going to be in" -- another catch of recent memory -- "and move on with your life. Find someone, not to replace me in your heart, but to live alongside me in your heart.

"So, goodbye, Matt. I love you. This won't be the last time you hear from me, but I won't be talking to you often. All I would do is bawl my eyes out if I talked to you regularly. Please don't try to find me. PLEASE! Don't make me have to find the strength to say no. Just remember me this way ..."

The video would pan to three pictures lying side-by-side on the table. The first was a pretty twenty-one-year-old brunette in shorts and a t-shirt, hanging on the shoulder of an average-looking guy who needed a shave, a guy smiling a lot more than the one who looked out of the mirror these days. It was taken in Key West, our first road trip as a couple.

The second was a twenty-seven-year-old. I knew her age and could even tell you the exact date it was taken because she was wearing a wedding dress.

The third was from a little over two years ago: a thirty-year-old woman. She was sitting on a deck chair by the pool, wearing a bikini, and laughing so hard her beer was sloshing over her leg. It had been the block party ... and two months before we got the diagnosis.

Some while later, muzzy and uncertain about everything except that the room was spinning, I felt myself being coaxed to my feet. "Come on. Any more and you're gonna regret it tomorrow." Tatyanna half-guided, half-supported me into the bedroom. I felt myself being tipped onto the bed, my slippers pulled off and the covers pulled up. I felt the sadness come rushing back in a wave of blackness.

When I came to, daylight was streaming in the window. It was open a crack and I was glad for the warmth of Liv against my back—

The world came screeching to halt.

I spun over and came face to face with ... a face that wasn't peaches and cream. It was caramel and coffee. And about six years old and snoring softly. Another face looked at me with concern from the chair across the room.

"What?" I managed.

"You were ..." Tatyanna shook her head, looking for the right word, "You had a bad evening. I tried to explain to the kids why you weren't up, but Nia insisted on waiting for you to wake up so she could tell you not to be so sad." She smiled to herself at the image. "Unfortunately, she conked back out while waiting."

"Oh!"

She stood. "I'm sorry. I'll get her out of your hair now."

"Leave her," I said abruptly. "I need to take a shower." I escaped into the bathroom, ignoring the surprised look on her face.

It was a strange morning. I got the headache under control with some aspirin, but I was embarrassed and didn't know what to say to Tatyanna. When Nia awoke, she patted my hand and gravely told me, "It's good you're not so sad anymore," with a solemn expression that was the spitting image of her mother. I didn't know what to say to that, either.

That evening, Caitlyn called while Tatyanna and I were having a glass of wine after she put the kids to bed.

"How are you doing, Matt?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry if I upset people."

"It's okay. We were all just a little concerned." The conversation paused there for a second. I had no intention of getting into what had happened. After a moment, she continued, "I met Tatyanna. I didn't know you were living with someone."

"I'm not really. She's just a friend who's staying with me temporarily."

"Oh. That's ... well ... that's good. It's nice you have someone to talk to." She paused. "Though, you know you can always call if you need a friendly ear. I can be a good listener. We're beyond stubborn patient and long-suffering nurse now." I made some small sound acknowledging the sally. "Seriously, feel free to call sometime."

After hanging up, I looked over at Tatyanna. "I owe you an apology too. I'm sorry you had to deal with that, and I'm sorry I was short with you when I woke up."

She smiled. "It's okay. Though you bolted out of the room like you were on fire. Stomach that bad?" She saw the sheepish look on my face and asked, "What?" dragging out the word so that it meant, "What is it you aren't saying?"

I thought about claiming it was my stomach. But I've never been a natural liar. I confessed. "At first, I thought that was Liv next to me, then ..." I trailed off.

"And then, what?" I didn't answer immediately, and I saw realization dawn. "You suddenly remembered, and then you thought it might be me?"

I'm sure my face was starting to turn red. "Sorry," I muttered.

She didn't say anything at first, and I wasn't sure whether the silence was holding back indignation, amusement, or "Uh oh, where's this going?"

I could feel my face flame even hotter. "So, I ran," I muttered.

I thought I saw a faint crinkle appear around her eyes, and then I realized how that came out. "Oh, I don't mean because— I mean, you're very attrac— Oh, just shoot me."

The crinkles turned to full-blown amusement. She reached over and patted my arm. She started to say something like, "It's okay," when she noticed my slight flinch. "I'm sorry. Does that bother you?"

I shrugged.

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

I waved it away as of no consequence.

"I know Nia's touchy-feely. I'll talk to—"

"Kids don't bother me," I interrupted.

Again, the studying tilt of the head. She settled back on her end of the couch and, gradually, things got back to normal, mostly because she deliberately moved the conversation onto an amusing story from the nail salon involving glitter, someone's Pomeranian, and a bottle of nail polish.

That night, I thought back to that conversation, which led me to think about that moment when I thought she was next to me. For one brief second, I'd felt something, something I hadn't felt in a long time: an excitement that a woman was in bed with me. It had passed in a heartbeat, driven out by panic. Now, in the privacy of my bed, I admitted it.

But Tatyanna was off-limits, both because I gave my word and because I couldn't look myself in the mirror if I took advantage of someone close to desperate.

But ...

My thoughts turned to Caitlyn. Redheads, stacked redheads, had been the stuff of a lot of feverish imaginings when I was fully in the grip of teenage hormones. Julianne Moore in Boogie Nights alone had put a million hours in the spank bank, and pre-burnout Lindsay Lohan ...

I wasn't dead, I realized, not if I could still feel desire. Maybe my strategy of staying numb, feeling nothing, had been wrong. I could never get back what I lost; I knew that. But maybe life wasn't totally barren.