Merciful
February, 2001
After Leo told me to take a hike, I checked into a hotel in Greenwich Village, the part of town where I knew I wouldn’t run into him, and I spent Christmas and New Year’s alone. I missed being at work, but I wasn’t ready to go back to Slutty Co-worker’s and Megan’s hopeful faces and burning questions. I got massages, facials, manicures, and pedicures, and I did yoga twice a day. I shopped my ass off and bought so many new clothes that I had to buy another suitcase. I ate the best dinners at the best restaurants and I watched a new movie every night. If it wasn’t for the knife piercing through the middle of my heart, it would’ve been the best vacation of my life. I checked in with Courtney and Nicole to see how Kelly was doing, and I did it as if I was doing it from home. They didn’t need to know about the latest shenanigans of Chrissy Anderson. Well, that and they’d just ask me to bring them goodies back from New York. I was in no mood to play Santa Claus. Neither of them had an update on Kelly’s condition, Craig hadn’t answered the phone or returned calls for weeks. As my plane took off from JFK nearly two weeks after it landed, I looked down at the World Trade Center buildings and blew Leo a kiss. Then I put in my earphones and fell asleep with nothing but thankful thoughts of knowing such a passionate man.
“Okay…that’s NOT what I thought was happening this whole time! I thought you guys were like TOTALLY doing it all over New York!”
“Me too! I thought for sure you guys got back together! What the hell happened?”
Staring blankly at Slutty Co-worker and Megan, I think to myself, yep… those are exactly the hopeful faces and burning questions I wanted to avoid.
“Oh, hunny, I am sooooo sorry I called him!”
“No, it’s good that you did…I wouldn’t have seen him otherwise. I would still be dreaming about stuff that’s never gonna happen.”
“Are you okay?”
“Not really. You should’ve seen him. He was so handsome. I still love him so much.”
“I know you do.”
“I blew it, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but there’s gonna be someone else. He’ll come around at the most inopportune time and when you least expect it, kinda like Leo did.”
This is why I love Slutty Co-worker so much. She tells it like it is and then she lets you cry it out on her shoulder.
“Hey, was that yummy Italian boy with Leo when you saw him?”
And then she makes you laugh.
The rest of January is quiet, and I barely notice when it turns into February. Business is chugging along at a better than expected rate. God Bless all those New Year’s resolution idiots who sign up for a six-month membership because “I’m really gonna get in shape this time!” I’m not worried about them dropping out either, because Slutty Co-worker does an excellent job of keeping men engaged, and smarty pants me hired a totally hot yoga master dude to keep all the flighty women from quitting. Yes, we have quite a nice little racket. The only hard part about any of it is keeping the two instructors off of each other!
My lunches and dinners with Courtney and Nicole commenced upon my return from New York. I never mentioned the trip to them; they’ve had enough of my love life. Every week we reserve a table for four, order the missing friend a drink and do our best to pretend she’s with us. We rarely bring up old times because it’s too painful, and we don’t talk about anything interesting because they don’t watch reality TV. The time I spend with my best friends has become the time when I contemplate life. They talk about doctor stuff, and I quietly ask myself, “Am I doing exactly what I want to be doing because I could be dead tomorrow.”
Aside from doing the man I love, the answer is always yes. I’m passionate about my yoga studios and Megan’s clothing line is a huge success. It’s already in nine department stores nationwide. I’m so busy spending time on projects that I love that I hardly notice the money that rolls in as a result. I suppose I should buy a house, but I can’t bear the thought of leaving my cottage. I’m not ready to leave behind the few good memories I have there with Leo. That, and I guess I want him to know exactly where to find me in case he changes his mind about giving me a second chance. I shouldn’t hold my breath, though. Megan got word from her friend’s ex-boyfriend that I messed him up real bad by going to New York and now he’s binge dating to get over me. It hurts like a mother f*cker, and the pain would probably send most candy asses straight to therapy, but I’m smart enough to know that only time can heal the wounds I opened up on the streets of New York. What I’m going through right now is just a normal girl problem. Confusion and lies are what drove me to seek therapy and I don’t have those things in my life anymore. I’d like to see Dr. Maria, but that’s only because I miss her, not because I need her. My grandpa’s been very quiet, but that could be because I haven’t asked him any questions. He’ll be back when I need him.
I’m at one of my yoga studios early today because I’m helping Megan prepare for her first solo meeting with a buyer at Macy’s New York. She begged me to go with her, but I was like “Hells no, I’m not going back to that city!” We’re rolling around in laughter at my imitation of our old Hong King Kong production manager when Slutty Co-worker pokes her head in.
“I hate to interrupt the comedy act but your friend Courtney’s on the phone for you.”
It took me forty-five minutes to get to Stanford Medical Center and an hour and forty-five minutes to locate Kelly’s room. The place is like a labyrinth of sickness, disease, and seriousness. I hate it here.
“Jesus Christ, what took you so long?”
“I got lost. Tell me what’s going on.”
Kelly was admitted to the hospital two days ago because of Craig’s inability to control her pain and persistent vomiting. He’s taken such good care of her for almost a year, but in the last month, the cancer has become more obsessed with her body. No matter how many pills he gave her, he couldn’t fight its fury.
“Where is he?”
Courtney and Nicole point to Craig, who’s standing with a small group of doctors. He looks ten years older than the last time I saw him.
“Where are you going?”
“To be with him.”
“Are you sure you should be doing that? His mom said he wants to be alone.”
I snap back, “Jesus, when are the two of you gonna stop listening to directions and start listening to your hearts?”
I walk over and stand by Craig. To be honest, I’m a little nervous to disobey his mom’s orders, but when he grabs my hand for support as the doctor’s finish giving him an update, I’m satisfied with my decision. When the doctors split away, he turns to me.
“She was in so much pain.” Then in a whisper, “I thought I had more time.” Looking directly at me but talking into space, “They said she had at least three weeks left…they were off by two. I should’ve done more… said more.”
“She knows what you wanted to say, Craig, and you also know Kelly has to do this on her terms. When they said three weeks left, she probably said to herself, ‘I’ll be the one to decide how much time I have.’”
“The pain was so bad. She wanted to take a bath… thought it might help. She asked me to get in with her and hold her, but I didn’t. Goddamn it… Why didn’t get in with her? The house was a mess, the baby was fussy, and I was so damn tired, Chrissy. But why did I let those things matter? Why didn’t I get in with her?”
I always have something to say, a story to tell, a joke to make a bad situation not so bad, but there’s nothing you can say or do for someone in Craig’s shoes. The only thing you can do is hold them and let them cry out their sorrow for however long it takes. This is what true friends are for. So for two days, Courtney, Nicole, and I camp out in one of the special rooms dedicated for families of people who are about to die. We take turns delivering coffee and making food runs for Craig, his parents, and Kelly’s mom. We do our very best to support them while they cry out their sorrow, and when they aren’t looking, we hold each other while we cry out our own.
On the eve of day two, after making sure everyone has had enough to eat, I sneak out of the special room and make my way down the hall to Kelly. The hospital staff has been very clear that only Craig and immediate family members are allowed in her room and Kelly couldn’t have been clearer the entire time she was sick that she didn’t want me to see her in a weakened state. Never one to follow the rules, which Kelly should know better than anyone else, I tip-toe inside.
I’d be a wreck if what I was looking at were something that came close to resembling my best friend, Kelly, but what I’m looking at is only a container for the minuscule amount of organs that wearily pulsate underneath her thin skin. My strong Kelly is no more. As far as I’m concerned, Kelly is no more. Looking at her now, I know exactly why she didn’t wait three more weeks. She’s had enough. She’s not hooked up to very many things, just one IV that I assume is morphine. She was always a pale girl, not one to lie in the sun or go to a tanning salon. Probably the only thing we didn’t have in common. But she’s not what I would call pale anymore. She’s yellow, but not sunflower yellow. It’s more like yellow watercolor paint has been spread over her translucent body. Some areas painted more than others, but her entire body covered in some shade of yellow. Her hair and eyebrows are completely gone and tiny blood encrusted pinholes are scattered all over her visible skin. One enormously swollen leg is poking out of the blanket, and it doesn’t look like it could possibly be connected to her frail face and arms. No, this is not Kelly. My Kelly is already somewhere else. I’m somewhere else, too. Rain is pounding on the window. The sound of it along with Kelly’s soft breathing and the rhythmic beat of the machines that are hooked up to her create an almost tranquil feeling within me. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll be with Kelly again one day, and the joyful feeling takes me by total surprise. I put my hand on her hand and through my tears whisper, “Keep in touch, Kel,” before I reach into my pocket and place one last letter in her hand. Over the last two days, I’ve written about ten different self-serving letters, but ended up scrapping all of them and simply went with:
Hey Mama, Give my grandpa a giant hug when you see him. You’ll recognize him, he’s the exhausted one. If you don’t mind, can you act as my angel for a while? That guy needs a break! He had no idea how high maintenance I was, but you…you know exactly what you’re in for, and you’re young enough to handle it. Oh, and you know I love you, Kel, but I hope I don’t have to see you anytime in the near future. Whatever you can do up there to make sure I stay down here a lot longer would be greatly appreciated. I’m starting to feel whole. I love you, Me
After I kiss her cold forehead, I walk to the hospital chapel and beg my grandpa to put Kelly out of her misery. Three hours later, she died.
After (preposition) af*ter:
Following in time or place or position
I can hear us laughing
I remember every part
I’ve got everything we ever did
It’s tattooed on my heart…
Until the summer brings you back,
You know you got a piece of my heart
(Piece of My Heart, Keri Noble)