I am HER... (46 page)

 
I just know that if there was ever a moment in my life when I could love Z completely, I would want to die in that exact moment of pure bliss and completion... Just so I could take his love with me when I'm gone.

 
Unlike the lover of Porphyria, I wouldn't want to kill him if he loved me completely, but
I
would want to die, at that precise moment of complete love and adoration, just so my last memory of Z, was of him loving me completely... Of him being
mine
forever. 
  At that moment, I would leave this earth fully alive with my true, healthy, beautiful love for Z, surrounded by the only happiness I had ever known.   Because I would know that there would never be anything more or less than Z’s love; to stay with me,
forever.

                                
==========   

                                   
  When I awake, Z is still here, whispering with Mack and they’re having a yummy looking breakfast together.  I wonder if they were talking about me.  I wonder if it was bad. 
Shit.
  Maybe Mack and Z have changed their minds about helping me.  Should I ask them?
  "Relax, sweetheart.  Mack and I were merely discussing the superiority of the Knicks, over the tragic Celtics.  That's all."  Oh.
  "I lean toward the Celtics myself.  Sorry,"  I whisper.
  "Ha!  Sucker!  Two against one.  We win!"  Barks Mack.

 
 Oh, funny.  I can’t help but laugh at Mack.  They're like kids or something.  I think Mack said something about knowing each other for years.  They seem like it.  I think Mack must have even brought Z some clean clothes, because he’s changed this morning.  I wonder if Mack brought his breakfast too.
  "You break my heart, love.  That is the deepest cutting remark you could have ever said to me.  And to think I had Mack bring you your own clothes,
and
a delicious breakfast... all before even 8:00am.  But you slice me deeply with the
Celtics...
You have GOT to be joking! 
The Celtics?!"
 
Jeez...
Z even places his hand over his heart with that one.
  "I really am sorry, Z.  But we Chicago girls would never, ever be a fan of the Knicks.  It's entirely against our religion."  Oh, this is neat.  I'm like playing or teasing or something.
  "I
knew
you were awesome!  From the moment we met, I just
knew
there was greatness in you."  Ha!  Mack has his hand on his heart now, too.
  "You boys are highly dramatic little girls it seems... At least where basketball is concerned."
  "We are..."  Oh my
god.
  They just said that in unison. 
Too funny.
  Bursting out laughing, the 'boys' join in, as Z rises, kisses my lips gentle, and begins moving a tray of food toward me.  Oh, it looks good and I’m absolutely starved.
  "Dig in.  We ordered a bit of everything.  I didn't know what your typical breakfast was, and I couldn't find Apple Jacks on such short notice but there’s almost everything else."  Yum-
my.
..  It all looks so good.
  "Thank you.  I think I'm starving."
  "You probably are.  You’ve been on a drip for 2 weeks now, so you haven't had a single thing in your stomach.  It's probably shrunk a little, so don't overdo it.  Plus, eat and swallow slowly.  Your throat and gag reflex needs to adjust as well."
Really?
  I wonder if I’ve lost weight?  "You've lost some weight as well, but you could gain it back in a few weeks, I'm sure." 
What?
  Cool.  Why the
hell
would I want to gain it back? 
Christ!
  What a
man
thought!
  "Ahhh, I'm good.  I could stand the weight loss, and I'll take it easy on the food.  Though it does look amazing.  Thank you very much Mack for all this, for me and especially for Z."
  "No problem.  Eat up."
  As I eat slowly, chewing and swallowing with a daintiness I don't
actually
possess, I listen to Mack and Z change arguments from basketball to golf. 
Golf?
  Ugh.  Now that's a boring sport. 
  Oh god, I used to hate when I went to my father’s Country Club to watch the
fine art
of golf.  What a pretentious ass he was.  I hated going there.  I hated my mother and her nasty two-faced friends, and I hated my father and his stupid fucking friends.  Golf is such a boring, pretentious, useless
art,
if ever there was one.  Fucking
Idiots!

                              
     ==========

  "What's wrong?  What are you doing? 
FUCK!
  WHAT ARE YOU
DOING?
"  Z yells.
  "What?"  I jump. 
  "Sweetheart, talk to us.  What's bothering you?" 
  "Why?  What do you mean?"  What the hell is he talking about? 
  "Sweetheart, give me the knife...
Now.
"

 
Oh, shit.
  What have I done?  Opening my hand, the knife is imbedded in my palm. 
Shit.
  Even as I try to pry it open, my skin tears and peels with the knife. 
WOW!
  How hard was I gripping the knife?  It looks like I'm nearing the bone, actually. 
Ooops.
  "Jesus
Christ!
  Mack!  HELP HER!"

 
Open my hand quick; like a band-aid. "Ow,
SHIT!
" I can't help but yell out as I open my palm fully.
  "It's okay.  Let Mack look at your hand."  Fuck.  There's blood
pouring
from my hand.
  "Sorry... I didn't mean to... I didn't know I was holding it like that.  Sorry," I apologize to Mack.
  "Please give me your hand to look at.  Z, I need you to get a nurse at the nurses’ station.  Tell her to bring a prep-kit and sutures."

 
As Z leaves, I look at Mack closely.  Is he mad at me?  But Mack just smiles, while holding my hand in a strange, kind of upward position, as the blood continues pouring down my forearm.
  "What were you thinking about?  Why were you so tense a moment ago?"  Um...
  "It's nothing actually.  I was just thinking about my father and mother and his Country Club and golf and their stupid friends, and how much I hated it.  You and Z started talking about golf, and I just remember how much I hate golf."  Oh, it does sound stupid.
  "Good to know.  I'll tell Z how you
really
feel about golf.  Between golf
and
the Celtics, he'll be devastated." 
  "Are you teasing me?"
  "Just a little," Mack says with a wink.  Oh, how fun.
  "Thank you."
  "For teasing you, or for talking about the one sport guaranteed to make you stab yourself?"  Oh. 
What?!
  I can't help but laugh.
  "You are very
un-doctorly
, Mack."  I giggle at my lame word.
  "I know.  Isn't it awesome?"  God, Mack is so cute, I just reach out and hug him. I can't help it.
  "What's wrong?  What
happened?!
"  Z yells while walking back into my room.
  "Well, she hates golf so much, she stabbed herself.  It's sad really."  Mack says direly shaking his head back and forth. 
  Just as Z yells
"WHAT?"
Mack and I both burst out laughing.  Oh, Z looks really mad at us.  Ooops.  I stop laughing almost at once.
  "Sorry, Z.  I didn't mean to make you angry."
  "YOU didn't.  Mack, however, is being a real idiot right now."  Another little giggle escapes.
  "We were just joking Z.  Mack was distracting me from the pain, I think.  Weren't you?"
  "I was.  And I succeeded until a certain hyper-sensitive golf aficionado killed the mood," Mack says winking at me again.
  "Could you PLEASE stop joking, and
help her
.  She's bleeding everywhere!"  Oh, another clipped tone toward Mack.
  "Z, I'm fine."
  "You’re NOT fine.  That looks very bad.  The nurse is on her way.  Is it bad, Mack?  It looks like it’s bad.  Is it?"  God, Z sounds very tense right now.  I don’t really like tense Z.
  "It's bad, but I've seen much worse, and I'll have it fixed up in minutes.  So, why don't you
sit down
and relax, Z."  Mack seems to impart his own tone into the room.
  "Ah, sure.  How do you feel, sweetheart?  You barely touched your breakfast."
  "I'm fine, and I'm stuffed.  Before I did this, I did actually eat enough."
  As the nurse walks in, she seems to take in my room with a strange mixture of shock
but
professionalism.  It's like she wants to say something insubordinate to Mack, but she can't.  Oh, I know how
that
feels.  I’ve been biting my tongue since I was born… frustrating, isn't it?
  The nurse prepares a bowl of water with something else, while Mack puts a needle deep into my palm.  Exhaling a long breath, I wait for the needle pain to end.  Once he has finished with the needle, the relief is almost immediate.  My hand no longer burns.
  Mack and the nurse take turns doing ‘stuff’ to my hand, while I turn my head away on my pillow and relax as best I can.  Every once in a while, or actually, fairly frequently, I try to sneak a glance at Z, but I always meet his eyes.  He’s sitting in his chair watching my face closely.  We smile at each other from time to time.  God, he is still so beautiful to look at.
  A while later, Mack is done. My hand is wrapped up tightly in gauze, bandages are applied, and a sling is placed around my neck, holding my hand high against my chest.  Apparently, it was a deep, long wound requiring more than 20 stitches.  That seems like a lot to me, considering I've had 6 to 8 stitches before. 
Weird.
 
  Deciding to change my gown and bedding, the nurse asks Mack to assist.  As Mack lifts me gently, while keeping me covered, the nurse quickly and quite efficiently removes the bottom sheet and replaces it just as quickly.  Placing me back on the bed, the nurse and Mack begin adjusting my wires, and catheter bag again- ugh, still
super
gross. 
    Without being asked, both Z and Mack turn their backs to me, as the nurse unties and lowers my gown from the back.  God, I would kill for my own clothes, but sadly they aren't exactly catheter friendly.  Once I have a new gown on, she again adjusts certain wires and tubes, props my pillows, raises the bed again, and draws a clean sheet over top of me.  Yay.  All done.  She even managed to retie the sling around my neck.
  Afterward, the nurse makes a few notes in my chart with Mack signing a few papers and initialing the chart.  With a nice smile at me, and a little pat on my thigh, the nurse finally leaves.  And then there is nothing but silence.
  "Um... sorry, again.  I didn't mean to be..."
  "You weren't bad.  It was an
accident
... clearly.  But I would really like to discuss what happened?  Would you like Z to stay or leave?  Remember, everything is your choice to make."
  "It's really not a big deal.  I told you I was just thinking about golf and my father’s Country Club.  Z can stay.  There's nothing to really discuss."
  "Are you sure?”

 
Mack looks so serious suddenly.  Oh, I don't like serious Mack as much as silly, teasing Mack.  Looking over at Z, he nods at me.  What?  What does the nod mean?
  "I can go, sweetheart.  I'll just be outside if you need me.  It's nothing.  Would you like me to stay or go?"  I already said stay.  What the hell?
  "Stay."  I think that sounded a little snarky, so I tack on, "Please."

  A
gain, he just nods and says nothing more.

                                
==========

  "Z and I were talking about golf, and you began thinking about...
what?
"
  "Golf.  Then my father and his friends.  And my mother, and her nasty friends, and his Country Club, and the art of golf.  That's all."
  "What about golf bothers you?"
  "I don't know.  Nothing, I guess.  Golf is just...
golf.
  Boring.  Who cares?  It's not like a
real
sport.  It’s just kind of a place to network or something."
  "Who would network?"
  "My father on the course, and my mother in the Clubhouse." 
  "And where were you while they were 'networking'?" 
  "I don't know.  Around, I guess.  I just kind of hung out and waited to go home."
  "Where did you hang out?"
  "The lounge, mostly.  Sometimes, in the gift shop.  Sometimes, I went for a walk.  Sometimes, I waited in the car and read if I was super bored.  Why?"
  "I'm just trying to understand your reaction to the Golf Club." 
What reaction?
  "I don't have a reaction.  It's nothing.  It was just so boring for me.  That's all.  I heard the same lectures time and time again.  The importance of golf in
proper society
.  The importance of golf as a corporate outlet.  The importance of
wheeling and dealing
during such a
civilized
event.  Just crap like that.  My father would lecture me the whole way to the Club, and my mother would lecture me on the return trip."
  "How did their lectures make you feel?"
  "Bored enough to take a golf club to my father’s head?"  Giggle.
  "And your mothers lectures?"  Oh, no longer teasing Mack.  Right! Gotta remember that.
  "She drove me crazy.  She was such a nasty, judgmental, two-faced bitch at the Golf Club.  She would speak with every woman there, turn her back, and trash every woman she was
friends
with minutes later.  She never stopped.  She was all delicate Mrs. Beaumont and an evil wicked BITCH, moments later.  It was almost amazing to watch, but I hated it.  I used to listen for a while, and then I had to leave because my stomach hurt from all her meanness.  She was truly horrible.  I'm surprised to this day that she maintains the very large circle of friends, acquaintances and
followers
that
she does…"  Oh NO!  "…Shit!  What's today's date?"
  "Saturday, June 18th... Why?"
  "It's her birthday today.  She loves it when her birthday falls on a weekend because she gets to go double-time on her lavish parties.  If she could, I swear she would change the Gregorian calendar each year to place her birthday on a weekend... like it’s a national holiday or something."  She really is ridiculous.
  "Can we talk about the Club a little more?"