The last week of February I got the cleanest bill of health in my entire life. I drove straight home, excited to see my family. I pulled into the garage, and my sons' bikes were gone. The boys ride around town offering help the anyone who needs it. Mostly they've been mowing lawns and going shopping for our elderly neighbor Mrs. Jean. Nigel and Gabriel had to become men quicker, because of me.
"Brenda?" Silence. I wandered into the kitchen, Brenda left me a sticky note on the counter: 'Out with sisters.' it read. So far the only people who know I'm healthy are Dr. Morales and me. Then he popped into my mind. I called his phone and picked up on the third ring.
"Hello?" Jonathan's voice was groggy. Instantly I looked at the time above the stove, 8 am over here in the east so it's five where Jonathan is in California.
"Sorry for calling so early." There was a little commotion on Jonathan's end.
"It's fine, what's up?"
"I got some good news from my doctor. I'm fully healed."
"Congratulations, how're you going to celebrate? I was rummaging through my fridge when he asked that. Brenda just went shopping, the fridge was packed and organized neatly.
"I was thinking to thank my family for taking good care of me, I'm going to cook them dinner. And tell them the news then." The conversation I had with Jonathan was brief. He has the title of my best friend, but he speaks to me like a stranger. I suppose it's natural for friends to drift apart and get so consumed in their own lives that the rest of the world seems to fade away just enough for time to slip by unnoticed.
I got to cooking. Flipping through Brenda's grandmother's cookbook. I haven't cooked anything in three years. Haven't done much of anything since I've been diagnosed with cancer. Whenever I'd try to do something I'm told to sit down and rest. Don't cook anything, I'll do it. Don't clean that, I got it. I know they meant well, but I could still move, I could still use my body. My days were blurring into one. Everyone's lives were going on, progressing. And I watched them from the couch. A viewer in my own life.
I made my wife's favorite, chicken alfredo, set the table, and straightened up before she came home with the boys. Nigel and Gabriel. The smell of a homecooked meal pulled them into the dining room where I was waiting. They all looked at the food and then at me.
"What's going on?" Brenda asked. I gestured for them all to sit. I took my seat unable to contain my smile.
"You all have done so much for me in my time of need, and I want you all to know that I appreciate all you've done for me." I scanned their faces, they can do without speeches. "I'm cured." Shock hit my boys instantly they shared a look of elation and came crowding around me. Brenda remained where she was. She smiled, but... there was something off about it. She looked happy for me, but the way she watched me was as if she knew what I was going to say before I said it.
"I'm so happy for you, my love." She raised her glass to me. I forced my body to relax, it seems as if the darkest parts of recovery is finally over. Before my family came I was excited about my future. For our future. Before we sat down for dinner, I was excited to see my wife's face when I told her the news. Silly of me to think real life goes according to plan.
Still, that night, we ate like kings and laughed until our faces hurt. Long after the boys were asleep, Brenda and I were washing the dishes. I wash them, and she dries them and put them in the cabinet. We did it in silence. She had soul music and jazz playing on the tv. While she dried the dishes, I stole glances. I'm not sure what I was looking for each time I looked at her.
"Something on your mind?" Asked Brenda We finished the last dish and were wiping up all the water.
"The way you reacted when I told you that I wasn't sick anymore," I said carefully. Brenda looked up at me. Her eyes were as dark as her hair. "Do you know something that I don't?" Her manicured brows came together.
"What's wrong, Thomas? Really." There's nothing wrong with me, there's something wrong with you. I wanted to say to her, but... I just couldn't figure out how to word it. Today has been the best day I have had in a long time. But I can't ignore this feeling in the pit of my stomach. In the light of the best news I could've gotten, there was a sliver of dread weighing down on me. And the pangs got intense when my wife looked at me like that.
"Never mind. Pretend like I didn't say anything." Brenda wrapped her arms around me.
"Hey, hey. If there's something on your chest I want you to get it off." I considered her words, looking deep into her eyes. They were beautiful, the darkness of them pulled me in. I wanted to trust whatever was behind those eyes.
"Did you have me healed?"
"No." Brenda took my hands in hers, she beamed so brightly at me. "I had nothing to do with this. You're truly healed." She said gently squeezing my hand. The confirmation helped me relax, it helped me almost forget about the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
That last week of February was the happiest of my life. I was a completely different man, I was a healed man. Life had dealt me a bad hand and I still came out on top. One by one, the people in my life rejoiced with me. I look forward to the pitiful looks fading, to the moment when I look back on those bleak days as distant memories. Perhaps in those days, it'll be hard to recall the pain. Either way, I had my life back. And as I sit at my desk, I'm not quite sure what I want to do with it...
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On March 7th, Brenda found my body face down in our living room when she came home from grocery shopping. I was rushed to the hospital and pronounced dead upon arrival. The cause of death was ruled as a heart attack. My funeral will be held at St. Joseph Funeral Home on the 15th.