I got the call just as I was stepping outside of JC's navy sedan. My lips were still swollen from our kiss, my mind still in a haze of destruction as I reached to silence the vibration at my hip. I wasn't ready to tackle any kind of simple task, such as answering my phone, because it would only stand to remind me how complex my situation had just become. I had just kissed JC goodbye..kissed him like he wasn't the friend he had always been, but like the man who spent the night making love to me. My lips were still swollen, my eyes still burned from the unshed tears as I pushed passed the doorman to my apartment building and headed for the stairs. I live on the eighth floor, but something about the silence of the elevator- the quickness of the ride, beckoned me to take flight on the back staircase to allow time to marinate in this disaster- other wise known as my so called life. What the fuck am I going to do now? What had I just done? The clicking of my heels against the stair didn't distract my mind from going back to that hotel room,. with JC nestled deep inside of me, whispering against my ear, rocking his hips steadily into me as that guilty sensation of betrayal and lust took over me. I wanted to hate every moment, I wanted to stop and go to Justin, tell him what I couldn't say before, I wanted to erase that look- that sad look that loomed over me and clouded my mind. But I didn't. I didn't stop, I didn't stop the moans from pouring out of me, I didn't stop my hands, my lips, my body from responding to JC, I didn't hold on to my sanity- I just let everything go. I let everything go, and now...I don't even know if there is a way to get any of it back.
" Fuck." I had finally stopped, somewhere between the fifth and sixth floor stairway and just leaned against the cool tile wall. I wanted to cry, but honestly I didn't have the right to feel sorry for myself anymore. I didn't have the right to release any of the frustration, confusion, or anger that I know I've caused every other person in my life. I couldn't even bring myself to close my eyes, just wanting the pain with keeping them open to hurt me enough so that I'd be immune to all the pain that I knew was sure to some. It was then that I felt my phone vibrating again, tickling the side of my hip, blaring for attention- pleading not to be ignored. I reached for it, not really sure if it was a good idea to answer without looking to see who it was- but at that point I felt it didnt even matter. It took me a moment to realize who it was on the other end, took only seconds to comprehend that Miranda was in the hospital and something was really wrong. I don't remember any of the course of events that brought me from that staircase to standing in front of this doctor, inside of Memorial Hospital lobby- surrounded by nurses, patients, and distressed family members- listening to him explain Miranda's diagnosis of stage IV breast cancer. Dr. Zahn had referred to "stage IV breast cancer" six times in the last ten minutes, and if it wasn't for the tight hold Ray had on my elbow, I would have socked Dr. Zahn right in his pointed perfect nose. I wanted to know how this was happening? I wanted to know why this is happenening? If Miranda was at stage IV, where the hell was I when she was at stage 1 and 3? What I don't want is to listen to this model doctor paint a sordid picture of Miranda's " stage IV breast cancer" with his text book definitions. Nothing inside of those books seemed to be making any difference in her present condition, nothing about those too long words could stop the tears from falling or the fear that I could feel swelling inside of me. Thank goodness for Ray. I could think of no other person I would have rather been hear with, to hear this with, and to turn and cry against. I think Ray is the only person in my life I hadn't completely fucked, the only one that probably wanted to be anywhere near me right now...except for JC. If I called him, as fucked up as that would be, I know he'd be here. I know he'd understand that I had to be here for Miranda, that I would be here for Miranda, and not question me for it. I know, without hesitation, that he would do all that he could- he would wait as long as he had to- just so I could be there for her, understanding that she is a person I love. I couldn't call him though, at least not yet, because I couldn't think about what we did or what will happen because of it- not right now. I had to think of Miranda. I had to prepare myself to be strong enough to face her, to hold her in my arms and convince her that everything will be okay- when we both knew it wouldn't. In between his provebial verbage, Dr. Zahn mentioned the five year survival rate was around 20%...Miranda faced an 80% chance of dying.
" She's asking about you." I looked up into Ray's somber face, from my seated position on the uncomfortable textured chair outside her room. I was too chicken to go inside. I didn't want her to see me. I didn't know if the guilt I felt overwhelmed the sorrow I had enough for her to know how I felt about Justin, to even consider what just happened between JC and I. Miranda always knew, always. I didn't want her to have to deal with another thing slipping away from her...like her life. If I could take back the feelings I had for Justin, even take back the night I just shared with JC... I would. I would if it meant I could stop her from dying, I would if it meant I could stop blaming myself for what is happening to her.
" I can't Ray...." It sounded lame, ridiculous even. What was better? For me to sit outside of her hospital room ridden with guilt, or to deal with it and go inside to comfort my girlfriend. Miranda had given me so much, showed me so much, and the time she needs me most..I'm too fucked up of a person to be there for her.
" She's known for awhile." My heart jumped to my throat. Instantly, I could feel the sweat in my palm build up. I just knew he was talking about Justin and I, I just knew he was telling me Miranda and figured out that I loved Justin- even before I did. I couldn't bare that disgusted look in his eyes, that would tell me she knew all about JC...would have guessed that I ended up spending the night with him just last night. I was too ashamed to lift my eyes...so Ray lifted my chin for me. Only, when our eyes met, I didn't see accusation or even judgement. I saw something else, something that told me what he was talking about had nothing to do with all the fucked up things apart of my life. She knew. Miranda knew she was going to die, even before today. She knew about her diagnosis, long before it had hit stage IV- she knew and she didn't tell me.
" No." More tears pushed against my lids, as I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of what Ray was telling me. I tried to silence my thoughts, tried to remember seeing any changes in the woman I had loved and lived with for the past three years. Nothing. I can't remember the last time she was sick. No. She couldn't have known. She wouldn't have kept something like that from me. How could I have not noticed? I thought she was just tired, not sick? Where was I when my girlfriend first found out she was on a strict schedule to die?
" Hey...hey..Valentine." Ray cooed, and it was the first time I didn't smile at his nick name. I wanted to be angry, I was so afraid, nothing was supposed to happen like this. It was suppose to be just Miranda and I, and that was it. That was all I wanted. That was everything I knew. There wasn't suppose to be a Justin, or his kisses, or his touch, or his smiles, or even his frowns. He wasn't suppose to be apart of my life. He had no right to change it. Then JC...I can't even think what all this means to us. I was suddenly pissed, scared and dumbfounded. " Tears don't change nothin' "
' When did she know?" Obviously, he knew too. I couldn't be angry, I should at least try to understand. It would just make things a little easier, there was already enough to be upset about. I couldn't help feeling like I had abandoned her, like I wasn't there for her like she had always been there for me. Even after Justin...and now JC...
" She wants to tell you." I understood the quiet look he gave me. It was time to go face my girlfriend. I stood up, surprised my knees didn't give out. Wishing I had the excuse of passing out to avoid dealing with everything. I drew in a strong breath, hoping it would stregthen my demeanor. Hoping there was enough to get through this next moment. I turned toward her door, biting my lip in hesitation, glancing up the hall- wondering if I should run away. Then I saw him. His eyes held mine, his jaw set in tight emotion. He looked like the way I felt- pure hell. His hair was a mess of curls on top of his head, clearly not considered in whatever haste he was in to get here. He was here. Standing a few feet away, the bloodshot stain of his eyes barely concealing the sadness and anger that weighed heavily in them. My heart, all that was left of it, fell to the pit of my stomach. My eyes, which couldn't turn away from his, teared over with fresh, hot, salty tears as we stood staring at each other. There wasn't one emotion I didn't feel, there wasn't one thing I could do to settle my soul as I took him in and wished- for that moment- that we could be someplace else. I wished our lives weren't the chaotic mess that they were, I wished we could have a moment without apology, regret, or circumstance. I just wanted to melt into him, feel him melt into me, and just...
" Mamas?" Miranda's voice called for me inside her room. I didn't realize until he stopped, that he was walking toward me. He was just on the other side of her door, standing across from me, having heard her call my name. He could have said a thousand things, but he just stood there staring at me- his eyes questioning me a thousand times over. I opened my mouth, even motioned to move towards him, do anything but continue to be tormented by that look in his eyes- but he pulled them away from me. He took a step back, and looked into the room where Miranda was waiting. I could see his strain, I could sense all his frusrtation and pain, I could feel him all too much.
" Go." Justin looked at me, then down at the floor, before he walked past me to take the seat I was just in. I could here Ray shuffle with a gruff greeting, before he walked ahead of me towards the other end of the corrider. I knew Justin intended to wait, and guilt rushed over me in response to the flush of releif I felt. I hated myself, I hated myself for loving him. Closing my eyes, I gathered myself, and turned to walk into Miranda's room.
