What's Left of Me
Page 65
He looks sad. His hair is a mess and he has dark bags under his eyes. I try to tell my brain to send some kind of signal to my mouth to form words, but nothing leaves my lips.
“Aundrea, please open the door,” he begs, his eyes pleading with me.
Just hearing his voice makes me want to step closer to him. I’ve missed his voice more than anything this last week. Parker is the only person to whom I can’t justify showing a part of me that was never meant to be seen.
Instead of moving to open the door, I mouth, “I’m sorry” before turning around and walking back to the living room.
My heart breaks with each step I take away from him.
The pounding on the door gets louder, followed by Parker yelling my name and the doorbell ringing nonstop.
“Honey, who is at the door?” my mom asks in a worried tone.
My dad moves to a standing position like he’s ready for battle. Before I can answer her, or my dad’s unspoken words, Genna comes running down the stairs.
“Aundrea! What is wrong with you? Why didn’t you let Parker in?” She rushes past me to the door.
“Parker’s here?” both my parents ask in unison.
I don’t answer. I just turn away from them and head to my room. At least there I can pretend none of this is happening and that the one thing I tried to keep away from the person that matters the most is not about to come out.
I can’t face him. Not yet. I’m being childish, I know, but until everyone finds themselves in my shoes and feels the hollowness I carry inside, then they can’t judge me.
Just as I make it to my room, I hear my parents asking Genna what’s going on and Parker’s loud footsteps approach.
I lock the door and sink against it, bringing my knees up to my chest. Resting my head back, I wrap by arms tightly around myself.
“Aundrea, please just talk to me. Tell me what I did. Please! I can fix it. Just, please ... God.” His voice breaks through the door, and I can’t help the tear that fall.
“Parker.” My voice breaks, so I clear my throat. “Parker, I’ll call you later, okay? I promise.”
“No. I’m not leaving here. You have been ignoring me all week. I need you to talk to me.”
“Parker, is everything okay here?” Genna asks.
“I need to talk to your sister.”
“Aundrea … Why don’t you let Parker in and talk to him.”
“I can’t.” It comes out as a whisper, and I’m not sure if either of them heard me.
I want to talk to him so badly, but I know after this everything will change between us. Deep down, I know it already has changed, but if I can just imagine for one more second that everything is perfect, then maybe it will make all this pain go away.
“Aundrea, Mom and Dad are asking questions. I suggest you talk to Parker before Dad comes over here and gets involved in whatever you’ve got going on.”
Parker is the first person who makes me feel normal. He makes me forget about all the wrongs in the world: my cancer, the treatments, and all the insecurities that go with it.
He makes me feel happy, complete, and, most importantly, loved.
I can survive cancer.
I will survive cancer.
But I know for a fact that I will not survive losing Parker if he can’t look past the disease and see what lies beneath.
“Please open the door, Aundrea.” His voice is softer. I can picture him, head resting against the door and hand on the knob, waiting for me to let him in.
I take a deep sigh. Reaching up with one hand, I unlock the door and slide out of the way.
The door is pushed open slowly. All I see are his black Steve Madden shoes coming to stand in front of me.
He doesn’t speak. I just hear a soft sigh of relief as he crouches in front of me.
My heartbeat is fast and irregular. I try to calm my breathing, counting to ten in my head.
When I finally do lift my eyes to his, I’m not met with passion and desire. These eyes are different. They’re the eyes of a confused man, unsure of who is sitting before him.
There is no movement. Not from him or me. Our eyes stay locked and I swear I’m not breathing. I can hear the blood flowing in my veins, building pressure in my ears.
His eyes roam over my face and with a soft breath he whispers, “What happened?”
I want to open up to him. I need to open up to him. But how do you tell someone you love that you have cancer? That you're slowly slipping away? That your body is floating away from you? There is no right time. No right moment. No right words. Words I need to speak. Words I need to form, but can't seem to get out.
My hands begin to tremble as I bring them to his face, cupping his cheeks.
Slowly, I lean into him, bringing my lips to his. It’s the lightest of touches.
Neither of us move or deepen the kiss. We just stay there, connected, absorbed in one another, the only sounds our shallow breathing and the clock slowly ticking away each passing second.
He brings his hands to each side of my neck, brushing his thumbs back and forth in soft short strokes. I don’t even know I’m crying until the tears make their way between our lips moistening them.
“I have cancer.” It’s the faintest whisper. So quiet, I’m not even sure I said it. But when his thumbs stop moving, I know he heard me.
Parker grabs my shoulders, lightly moving me away from him so he’s looking at me straight on. I watch his eyes as they scan over me. My lips, my nose, my eyes, my forehead, finally stopping on the pink and orange wrap that is in place of the hair he normally sees. I watch as the vein on the side of his neck throbs, showing how fast his heart is beating. His throat gradually moves as I watch him swallow.
“Aundrea, please open the door,” he begs, his eyes pleading with me.
Just hearing his voice makes me want to step closer to him. I’ve missed his voice more than anything this last week. Parker is the only person to whom I can’t justify showing a part of me that was never meant to be seen.
Instead of moving to open the door, I mouth, “I’m sorry” before turning around and walking back to the living room.
My heart breaks with each step I take away from him.
The pounding on the door gets louder, followed by Parker yelling my name and the doorbell ringing nonstop.
“Honey, who is at the door?” my mom asks in a worried tone.
My dad moves to a standing position like he’s ready for battle. Before I can answer her, or my dad’s unspoken words, Genna comes running down the stairs.
“Aundrea! What is wrong with you? Why didn’t you let Parker in?” She rushes past me to the door.
“Parker’s here?” both my parents ask in unison.
I don’t answer. I just turn away from them and head to my room. At least there I can pretend none of this is happening and that the one thing I tried to keep away from the person that matters the most is not about to come out.
I can’t face him. Not yet. I’m being childish, I know, but until everyone finds themselves in my shoes and feels the hollowness I carry inside, then they can’t judge me.
Just as I make it to my room, I hear my parents asking Genna what’s going on and Parker’s loud footsteps approach.
I lock the door and sink against it, bringing my knees up to my chest. Resting my head back, I wrap by arms tightly around myself.
“Aundrea, please just talk to me. Tell me what I did. Please! I can fix it. Just, please ... God.” His voice breaks through the door, and I can’t help the tear that fall.
“Parker.” My voice breaks, so I clear my throat. “Parker, I’ll call you later, okay? I promise.”
“No. I’m not leaving here. You have been ignoring me all week. I need you to talk to me.”
“Parker, is everything okay here?” Genna asks.
“I need to talk to your sister.”
“Aundrea … Why don’t you let Parker in and talk to him.”
“I can’t.” It comes out as a whisper, and I’m not sure if either of them heard me.
I want to talk to him so badly, but I know after this everything will change between us. Deep down, I know it already has changed, but if I can just imagine for one more second that everything is perfect, then maybe it will make all this pain go away.
“Aundrea, Mom and Dad are asking questions. I suggest you talk to Parker before Dad comes over here and gets involved in whatever you’ve got going on.”
Parker is the first person who makes me feel normal. He makes me forget about all the wrongs in the world: my cancer, the treatments, and all the insecurities that go with it.
He makes me feel happy, complete, and, most importantly, loved.
I can survive cancer.
I will survive cancer.
But I know for a fact that I will not survive losing Parker if he can’t look past the disease and see what lies beneath.
“Please open the door, Aundrea.” His voice is softer. I can picture him, head resting against the door and hand on the knob, waiting for me to let him in.
I take a deep sigh. Reaching up with one hand, I unlock the door and slide out of the way.
The door is pushed open slowly. All I see are his black Steve Madden shoes coming to stand in front of me.
He doesn’t speak. I just hear a soft sigh of relief as he crouches in front of me.
My heartbeat is fast and irregular. I try to calm my breathing, counting to ten in my head.
When I finally do lift my eyes to his, I’m not met with passion and desire. These eyes are different. They’re the eyes of a confused man, unsure of who is sitting before him.
There is no movement. Not from him or me. Our eyes stay locked and I swear I’m not breathing. I can hear the blood flowing in my veins, building pressure in my ears.
His eyes roam over my face and with a soft breath he whispers, “What happened?”
I want to open up to him. I need to open up to him. But how do you tell someone you love that you have cancer? That you're slowly slipping away? That your body is floating away from you? There is no right time. No right moment. No right words. Words I need to speak. Words I need to form, but can't seem to get out.
My hands begin to tremble as I bring them to his face, cupping his cheeks.
Slowly, I lean into him, bringing my lips to his. It’s the lightest of touches.
Neither of us move or deepen the kiss. We just stay there, connected, absorbed in one another, the only sounds our shallow breathing and the clock slowly ticking away each passing second.
He brings his hands to each side of my neck, brushing his thumbs back and forth in soft short strokes. I don’t even know I’m crying until the tears make their way between our lips moistening them.
“I have cancer.” It’s the faintest whisper. So quiet, I’m not even sure I said it. But when his thumbs stop moving, I know he heard me.
Parker grabs my shoulders, lightly moving me away from him so he’s looking at me straight on. I watch his eyes as they scan over me. My lips, my nose, my eyes, my forehead, finally stopping on the pink and orange wrap that is in place of the hair he normally sees. I watch as the vein on the side of his neck throbs, showing how fast his heart is beating. His throat gradually moves as I watch him swallow.
