The Heart Wants What It Wants

"Don't go there or I'll slap the living shit out of you," I interrupted. "I've never hit a girl yet, but that will make me do it the first time.

"Who was this fucker anyway?"

"He... he's just some guy. He didn't mean anything," she said.

"No, he meant a lot to me. In fact, he meant the end of us," I declared.

"No, we can't do that. Everything's ready to go for the wedding. My parents have already paid a small fortune," she said.

"Not my problem. I wasn't the one fucking someone not my fiancée," I asserted.

"Oh, come on. We're not even married yet," she whined.

"Exactly. And now we won't be," I said.

"You know my dad is going to kill you, right?" she asked.

"Not once he finds out you were the one spreading your legs. If anything, I think he owes me an apology," I said.

"Ah... uh... umm," she sputtered.

"I thought so," I snarked.

I didn't hear from Lily's father, so I guessed she owned up to the truth about what happened.

Cat and Lauren stayed with me the weekend that I was supposed to have gotten married. They just showed up unannounced Friday evening right after I got home from work.

"We already had the weekend booked out, and we didn't want you to be sitting here alone drowning your sorrows by yourself. You can drown them with us, but you'll be buying," Cat said when they showed up at my apartment door.

We didn't go hog wild drinking that night, but I know the two women overserved me enough that I was going to sleep pretty well that night. In fact, I slept so well that I didn't wake up until 9:30 the next morning. Lauren was sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee and reading my newspaper when I staggered into the kitchen wearing a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt.

Both the bathroom and guest bedroom doors were open, and there was no sight nor sound of Cat.

"Hey, where's Trouble this morning? She's not usually an 'up and at 'em' person early on Saturday mornings," I said.

Lauren nodded at my statement, but I detected a smirk playing on her lips.

"Uhh... she had an errand to run," Lauren said quietly, not able to look me in the eyes.

"Spill it, Giraffe Woman. I can see it in your eyes you want to tell me something," I said while I fixed some toast to go with my coffee.

"She had to return something to your ex-fiancée," Lauren said, her smirk turning into a full-blown smile.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" I said quietly.

"You know her as well as I do. What do you think?" Lauren remarked.

I winced.

I was showered and cleaned up when Cat strolled smugly into my apartment an hour later carrying a box of Dunkin' Donuts.

"Just needed something special for the morning," she said brightly.

I gave her a disbelieving smile. She gave me a shrug.

"He knows. He figured it out on his own. I never said anything, honest," Lauren said.

She gave me a guilty smile.

"Okay, tell me already. You know you're dying to," I chuckled.

"I called up your ex and told her I needed to return something," she started. "We met at a park near the donut shop. When she approached, I opened my arms for a hug. I don't think she saw my right fist until it connected with her left eye. She went down like a sack of bricks. I'll be upset if that shiner doesn't last two weeks."

She strutted around the kitchen holding her fist in the air like a championship prizefighter. Both Lauren and I laughed heartily.

"Damn, didn't that stupid bitch remember anything I told her about your temper... and your right hand?" I questioned.

I didn't date again for close to a year. It just wasn't that important to me. I think my solitude affected Cat and Lauren more than it did me. After about six months, they tried fixing me up with some of their single friends when I would go visit. They weren't subtle about it either, but at least the women they tried to match me with were hot. I wound up in bed with a couple of them, but most of the women were one and done.

"I'm just not ready, guys. Let it go, please," I said to the pair after one date.

"But I've got to tell you, you two find some damn good-looking women for me."

Lauren's ability to find good-looking women wound up working against Cat five years later. She found herself a 22-year-old senior art student at the local small college, and ended her 12-year relationship with Cat. Cat said she found out when she came home from work one day to find Lauren and her new love sitting on the sofa waiting for Cat.

"That's it. Just like that?" Cat said she asked the duo.

Apparently, Lauren's new squeeze was an excitable sort, and at one point in the discussion she jumped off the sofa and approached Cat quickly. Lauren couldn't stop her in time, and two punches later the young woman had a broken nose and a split lip and was in a heap on the floor.

"Did you have to hit her, Cat?" Lauren yelled.

"Don't really know, but I sure wanted to," Cat related. "You might have warned her, bitch."

Cat laughed in between her tears as she related the story to me over the telephone.

"I'm sorry, babe. I thought you two were good for the distance," I said.

"You know, some day in the future when they finally pass same-sex marriage, they're going to find out that the same-sex divorce rate will be the same as the hetero rate, I'd bet," Cat said.

"I don't doubt that for a minute," I agreed.

Cat and I spent a lot of time together over the next several months. It's what you do for those you love. I knew she'd never reciprocate what I felt for her, but in my mind, she would always be more than a best friend... somewhere between family and...

We were sitting in a nice restaurant finishing a good meal. Without even thinking about it, I had reached out for her left hand, which was lying on the table. I took her hand, held it briefly, then stroked the back side of it as I put it back down.

"I'm sorry, Julian, that I'm not as good a friend to you as you are to me," she said softly. "I know that you want so much more from me, but you accept the fact that I can't give it... and you never push. You'd be the man of my dreams... if I dreamed about men."

I blushed and dropped my eyes.

"Not entirely selfless," I responded. "You know there's always going to be a part of me that hopes..."

"Ah shit. Let's get out of here and do something stupid. I think two killer hangovers would be appropriate," she said.

In her mid-thirties, Cat was still a beautiful woman. It was just a matter of time until she felt like jumping back into the dating pool.

******

Although Cat and I were only getting together about once a month, to my mind she suddenly started looking a little off: a little more fatigued, maybe a few more lines on her face and I'd swear she lost about 10 pounds, not that she needed to.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" I asked her one Saturday afternoon when we were lying crumpled together on my sofa watching an NCAA softball game.

She looked at me oddly.

"Well, I have been tired a lot lately," she admitted. "I was thinking maybe I need to add more cardio to my workouts. You know, I'll be 40 next year. That means you'll be 40 next year, too, bud. Man, suddenly I feel old."

I got her to agree to go to her doctor for a physical. Hell, she hadn't taken a physical since Lauren left her.

The doctor couldn't get her in for a month, but I noted the date on my calendar. I called her the next day. She gave me vague answers. She finally told me she was scheduled in for more tests in two weeks. I know I was more concerned than she was.

"Damn, you're as bad as my mom," she said, trying to make a joke.

Colon cancer is no joke. The doctors noted that since they had caught it fairly early, her chances of beating it were good, although they noted that it might not be easy.

I was fortunate that the diagnosis came just after tax season, so between my accrued vacation days and the fact that I could work off-site, I was able to be there a lot for Cat. I took her to a lot of doctor's appointments, chemotherapy sessions and various and sundry other appointments. I also interviewed and hired a professional to be there for Cat when I couldn't be. Her parents stayed with her at times, as well.

She went on disability because she had to quit her job. Between that, her parents and me, we covered her bills.

The chemo took its toll on Cat in terms of nausea, fatigue and some hair loss. Yeah, she had her bad days both physically and mentally, but the tough girl that I grew up with battled hard. I expected nothing less, nor would I let her give in on those down days. We'd fight on some of those days, because I just wasn't going to let her feel sorry for herself.

"You son of a bitch. I'm hurting. Give me a fucking break every now and then!" she yelled at me one time when she wanted to skip a chemo treatment.

"Not happening, you little pussy!" I yelled back. "Now get in the Goddamned car by yourself or I'll put you in the fucking trunk and take you there like a piece of luggage!"

She staggered out to the car, smoke practically coming out of her ears. She didn't talk to me the whole way there, except once when she whispered, "I hate you, you dick."

"And I hate you, too," I whispered back, trying not to smile as I said it.

The worst was past several months later, we hoped, and we were again sitting smushed together on her sofa, as was our habit.

"Why, Julian?" she asked.

"You know the answer, Cat. I love you. Always have, always will. No reciprocation necessary. No pressure," I answered.

Six months later, Cat got to ring the bell as the doctors declared her cancer-free. Her parents and I took her out to a great restaurant to celebrate. There were tears all around.

Two nights later she and I were again entwined on her sofa when she took my head in both of her hands and faced me, almost literally nose to nose. She planted what I considered a deep, sensuous kiss on my lips. I was mesmerized, to say the least.

"Did you feel that?" she said.

I was confused for a brief second before it hit me like a shovel to the face.

"Yes. Yes, I did," I insisted.

She put her lips back on mine, and this time I fully participated. We repeated this several times over the next few minutes before she lifted my shirt over my head. We kissed some more before she unbuttoned my jeans and lowered my zipper.

I grabbed both of her hands in mine and stopped her.

"Are you sure about this? Completely sure about this?" I whispered.

"More sure than I've ever been in my life," she whispered back.

We had each other naked in seconds, stopping only long enough to kiss in between the articles of clothing coming off. She was moaning and breathing heavily as I kissed her and ran my hands over her body.

She grabbed my diamond-hard dick with a trembling hand and guided it into her hot, gooey core. It was my turn to moan... until she let out the mother of all moans when I hit bottom.

"Yeeees!" she rasped. "Oh... Julian!"

"Oh Julian" became her go-to for the next 10 minutes before she switched to "Ju-li-an!" when she started to orgasm hard as I pumped into her. I kept up the pace while she barely came down before heading back up again. She repeated her vocalizations before coming a second time, this time dragging me over the top with her.

I locked my lips to hers and we kissed passionately for several more minutes as we finished making love. I slid off to the side to get most of my weight off her.

"I love you, Julian. I felt it. I feel it. I may be a little slow, but I love you. I love you. I love you.

"I've been a fool. I've wasted so much time. I can't waste any more. Would you marry me, Julian?"

I stuttered as my blood pressure soared along with my heart. Still, I had to be sure that this wasn't just her being grateful for my help during her illness.

"Are you sure, babe? I didn't think I had the right equipment for you," I said.

"It's not about the equipment, Julian. It's about the connection. Do you know how sexy it is for someone to love you so completely?" she asked.

"No, I don't..." I started to say before she interrupted.

"Well, you're going to find out, mister. I'm going to show you that every day from now on, if you'll let me," she said. "So?"

"You know I could never refuse you," I said.

We had a small wedding with my parents and sister, her parents and some close friends. She moved into my apartment and eventually found a part-time job. She didn't need to work, but wanted to do it. I would have carried her to and from if she would have asked.

In our early 40s, neither Cat nor I were the physical specimens we had been 20 years before, but we didn't need to be. We could still make the bed shake on occasion, but most of the time we made sweet, soulful love. She taught me some new things; I taught her some new things. In that respect, it was almost like we were kids again. Lord, we did a lot of giggling and laughing. I'm not sure how I didn't wear my tongue to a nub I used it so much. I had a lot of time to make up for. I certainly didn't want her to be lacking in orgasms.

"This isn't a competition, Julian. I'm not keeping track to see if you give me the most orgasms," she said one night after I'd brought her off a dozen times with my mouth, fingers and dick. "Not that I'm complaining, you animal."

In truth, our relationship was so much more than just physical. She always was my best friend, and living as man and wife did nothing to change that. We still hung out almost all the time, finished each other's sentences and argued like 5-year-olds over who was the best player in MLB, Steve Trout or Shohei Otani. Oh yeah, I also didn't give her any reason to punch me anymore. I still had not forgotten the first and only time from all those years ago, and didn't want a repeat.

We had been back from a two-week trip to Australia and New Zealand for our ninth anniversary for about 10 days when I again heard Cat retching in the bathroom. This seemed to be an every other day occurrence since we got back, and I was worried that she had picked up some sort of bug in the southern hemisphere. She tried to tell me she was getting an ulcer from hanging around with me too much, but I wasn't buying it. She finally went to a doctor two weeks later, and after several tests and X-rays, her doctor told her X-rays had shown a small mass in her stomach. With her past history of colon cancer, her doctor set her up for exploratory surgery. They would remove the mass and do a biopsy. She and her doctor didn't seem too concerned. I was a wreck.

Dr. Magnus Rostowski looked more like an Olympic weightlifter than a world-class oncologist. He was only about 5-6, but was built like a fire plug on steroids. He hadn't shown any emotion the several times I had taken Cat in to see him, but that certainly wasn't the case when he came out to see me in the waiting room after the biopsy. A doctor with tears in his eyes is never a good sign.

"We didn't bother to do the biopsy. W-we found cancer everywhere when we opened her up. I'm sorry, Mr. Leonard," Dr. Rostowski said.

Cat was officially diagnosed with stomach cancer. Dr. R gave her six to nine months to live. Chemo wasn't an option as the cancer was too advanced, the doctor told us.

Under normal circumstances, I was the calm one and Cat was the one with the temper, but these were not normal circumstances. I was angry... hell, I was fucking mad. Cat, on the other hand, was unusually calm and accepting of her fate.

"How can you be so fucking calm?" I yelled. "This isn't fair!"

"No, unfair would have been if I hadn't finally seen what a great man you are and married you. We've had nine great years, haven't we?" she responded.

"You know, sometimes you can be really annoying," I said.

"Don't I know it," she giggled.

Cancer is a bitch and doesn't respect anything, least of all a life estimate by a top oncologist. Cat didn't get nine months; she didn't even get close to six months. She barely got nine weeks. The greedy part of me wanted more, much more, but the loving part of me couldn't have watched her suffer one day longer. The bad pain moved in soon after the surgery, and she spent much of those next weeks in a drug-induced painful haze.

"I'm sorry, baby. You waited for me so long, and now I'm leaving early," she said through tears on what would turn out to be her last night.

"I need a favor, Cat, one favor. Wait for me... and save me the place right next to you. Promise me, Cat," I said.

"I promise, Julian. Hold me, baby. Hold me, please."

She had lost weight and barely took up a body space lying in the middle of the bed. I moved to the side of the bed that didn't have wires and bottles hanging and slid in gently next to her, carefully enfolding her in my arms. I kissed her gently on her lips and held her until she slipped away. She was 51.

There's a small cemetery that sits about 30 minutes from our house, out in a rural area. It's actually up on a small flat area that overlooks a beautiful cornfield. There is a stand of oak trees that sits off to the side and provides shade over Cat's grave during the early afternoon while the field below is in bright sunlight.

Cat and I found the cemetery one sunny Sunday afternoon driving in the country a few years after we married. We wandered around for a while looking at the various graves, some of which dated back into the mid-1800s. We were in the shade of the trees when she pointed out the sun-drenched cornfield down below.

"This is perfect, Julian. Someday, we should rest here," she said.

I promised her we would.