Copperback (11 page)

“Best
case
–
and the probable one
–
is that the tissue dies, and we amputate his leg.”

“And
worst case?” I barely got the words out, still digesting the best case in
shock.

“Worst
case is a blood clot comes loose and travels to his heart or lungs and…”

She
didn’t need to finish her sentence. I didn’t know much about medical terms, but
I knew what an embolism was, and how it could kill instantly. The outcome of
any of the options didn’t sound good. I finally understood why she couldn’t
tell him. I wouldn’t want to be the one to break the news to him, either. How
do you explain to someone that there is a very likely chance you’re going to
have to saw their leg off, and they still might die?

“How
long does he have before we have to…you know?” I could feel myself swallow hard
at the thought. I couldn’t even say the words. My stomach had balled in a knot.
I usually would make a joke at a moment like this, but this was beyond any
humor.

“I’m
going back down to try everything I know how, to delay it. I doubt I can do anything
at this point to stop what has already happened. I would say Sunday, at the
latest. It all depends on what happens in the next day. I have never seen it
move this slowly. Usually a patient would be at this stage in a matter of
hours.”

I
weighed my options. I had planned out my night around my date, but if this was
more important, I was willing to end my commitment and stay home. Not exactly a
disappointment.

“What
about tomorrow night? I can cancel with Der-”

“You’re
not canceling anything with him,” she snapped. “The way Derrick looks at you,
he will be all over this place in a heartbeat. It’s not going to make a
difference if we do this Saturday night or Sunday morning. I can get someone to
cover me Sunday morning. We only have one check-in this weekend. It will give
me more time to get prepared.”

I
didn’t want to know what she needed to be prepared. The knot tightened even
more. I could feel it working its way up. I kept my arms crossed, trying to
hold it down for now. “I’ll get him something to eat, then. You do what you
need to. Are you going to be over tomorrow before I go?”

She
hesitated for a moment, the wheels turning in her head, debating whether to
visit or not. “No. I have a few things to do. It would be better if I’m not
here when Derrick comes over. He might be suspicious, since you are not
supposed to be ill anymore. Keep checking his leg, like I have. Keep it packed
in ice. If his skin turns pale blue, then we know that the tissue has started
to die, and we will need to work fast. Other than that, we are just going to
have to wait.”

She
didn’t want to go through this any more than I did. It was going to be a
struggle to keep this from him. If I could just go back in time and tell Chase
he couldn’t bring him over, none of this would have happened. I would be at my
boring little job, with my boring little life, and would go on never knowing
about my mom’s true passion. Job would never have existed in my life. It would
be simple and easy to manage till the day I died. I was having a hard time deciding
if I had made the right choice in letting him stay.

Weeks
ago, I would have never given it a second thought. Now, I was becoming his
friend, and he was becoming mine. I hadn’t been close to anyone for such a long
time, but spending time with him, even without the conversations, I couldn’t
help but smile. It hurt so much to know I might lose him. The thought of what
might happen was getting to me, and I knew that I was in over my head.

I
had been bringing him meals for a week and never paid attention to what his
favorite food was. All of a sudden, it was important for me to know. The only
thing I could come up with was ravioli out of a can.

The
one time I had nuked them in the microwave, he had devoured them in two bites,
handing me the bowl, insisting on more. I had my own dish that I hadn’t even
taken a bite of sitting in my lap. I gave him mine, and after he made a charade
of “Are you sure?” he inhaled the second one as fast as the first, with a grin
plastered on his face. I couldn’t help but laugh as I motioned to the sauce stuck
to the corners of his mouth.

I
dumped the entire can into a bowl and set the microwave for a minute. I had
lost my appetite, and the smell of overly preserved food was making me sick.
Sally was already gone, and I was alone again. I had to face my fear by myself.
I wasn’t a great liar like Sally. I knew before I even reached the bottom of
the stairs that he would see right through me like a window.

I
could starve him for the next couple of days so that I didn’t have deal with
it. It sounded like a great plan in my head, except for the fact that the idea
was trying to save his life and not kill him on purpose. I know that if I was
given the choice of living without a limb or death, I would have a hard time
deciding what to do. We were not giving him the choice.

The
timer went off, yanking me from my thoughts. Getting everything together, I
dreaded each step that brought me closer to the reality of the situation. I
could see that Sally had taken the pillows away, setting them at the foot of
the bed; the pieces of the splint were cast aside in a small pile next to them.
I was grateful that a towel had been draped over his leg, covering the
grotesque appearance it had taken on. Bags of ice covered every inch of the
towel, in hopes that, by some miracle, there would be nothing to worry about
come Sunday.

I
was trying not to dwell on the inevitable. He looked happy to see me again; his
body relaxed, holding the pillow to his chest, his grin warm and friendly. It
could have just been because of what I had made for dinner. As hard as I tried,
I couldn’t return the smile, and broke eye contact, looking down at the floor
as I made my way around the side of the bed.

Without
even looking at him, I handed out the bowl, waiting for him to take it and be
done in just a matter of seconds.

“I
brought extra napkins this time, so you don’t make a mess.” There was no humor
in my voice. It was dry and flat. I couldn’t help it. I just wanted to leave as
quickly as possible.

As
he grabbed the dish, he paused, holding onto it and bending his head down to
look at my face, curious as to why I wouldn’t look at him. I hated his
insistence at seeing my face and turned away, letting go of the bowl, not
looking back.

“Are
you going to stay?” This marked the first time since his apology that he
actually went beyond a few words at a time. It shocked me for a second, hearing
his voice. If he was willing to talk, I was going to have to be willing to
answer. Why did he have to choose now to talk to me? It was the last thing he
should be doing. It was already hard enough to face him in his silence, but his
sweet, soothing voice was becoming too much for me to handle. I was going to
lie to him and he was going to suffer again.

“No.
I’m going to go back upstairs. I’ll see you in the morning.” I didn’t mean for
it to come out so harsh; I was just using it to hold the tears back. I still
hadn’t moved from my spot, looking down at some piece of tape stuck to the
floor.

“Why
are you scared? Did I do something wrong?” There was guilt in his voice that
was tearing at me. I kept staring at the tape, hoping that it would give me the
answers I needed.

“No,
Job. You didn’t do anything. How do you know I’m scared?” If anything, I
thought I was trying to be angry. I had buried the fear as deep as it would go.
There was no fear in my voice, and I had refused to look at him so he couldn’t
see it in my eyes.

“I
can feel it. Like when Sally was talking to me. I could feel that she was
scared, but tried to act happy.”

“Maybe
I’m still scared of you. Has that ever crossed your mind? Maybe we are all
scared of you.” I was still trying to be angry, venting it on the piece of
tape. How could he know what I was really feeling? Was I being that obvious?
There is no way someone can feel what someone else’s real emotions are.

“You’re
not scared of me. You stopped being scared of me a while ago. This feels…different.
You are scared…
for
me.”

It
was true. I had let go of my fear of him and actually enjoyed his company. I
couldn’t hold back any longer. The waterworks had started, and there was no way
to turn them off. I wanted to tell him everything – for him to have a choice. I
turned back to him, but still couldn’t face him. I could see the bowl balanced in
his lap, still holding it with one large hand. I knew he was waiting for me to
look up at him. He wanted an answer.

“Yeah.
I am. But you’ll be ok. Don’t worry about it.” I knew in my heart I was lying
again.

There
was an assurance in his voice I couldn’t grasp. “I know I will. I promised
you.”

I
couldn’t help but look at him in surprise. He had no control of the outcome,
yet was still determined to keep a promise he made. His tender eyes stared at
me as though there was nothing to fear. I wanted to believe him. I couldn’t. It
was better for him to think he could keep it. I didn’t want to be the one to
burst his bubble.

“I–I’ll
see you tomorrow.” I looked back at the floor as I walked away. This time I
didn’t wait for a response. I didn’t look back to see his reaction. If I was
going to be miserable, I wanted to be by myself. I stomped up the stairs and
shut the door behind me. I couldn’t let go of the knob. Despite the voice in my
head pleading with me to go back and talk to him, I let go, walking back to the
couch that I had made my bed. The time on the clock told me it was only eight,
and I wasn’t ready to sleep. I tried to distract myself with the television, to
no avail. Every show reminded me of him.

The
comedies made me think of the time we sat together and he had imitated the way
I rolled my eyes when I was frustrated. The expression must have been new to
him, since on the first try he had crossed his eyes, almost making me spit
water all over him. It was the first time he had laughed, his perfect white
teeth gleaming, and it made me more relaxed around him.

Each
drama seemed to be focused on themes of death or disaster, and I flipped past
them as quickly as possible, trying not to think about the impending task. The
romances were no better. Every girl would fall in love with some guy and they faced
some inexplicable event, driving them apart or closer together. I had to remind
myself that our relationship was only a friendship. It would never be anything
more. There was no love – yet I found myself questioning that.

Looking
at the clock again, it was only a little after ten. Outside, the sky had gotten
dark, but I had no desire to turn on the lights. I turned off the television
and laid down in the dark. I closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would come, but
as soon as I drifted off, I would wake myself up, thinking I had heard
something. Sitting up, I would wait for another noise – anything that would
give me a reason to go back downstairs. It never came. The silence stayed and I
would lie back down, giving myself reasons why I should stay where I was. The
night continued on this way: tossing and turning, waking up, and listening. At
some point, I had convinced myself that the silence meant that he had expired
during the night and I should go check. Another part of my brain that
controlled logic reminded me that it wouldn’t matter, because I would not be
able to do anything, and it would be the same in the morning.

I
finally woke after a fitful sleep to the light shining through the windows. It
looked like it was going to be another August day filled with muggy
temperatures and a UV index through the roof. I had rarely gone out to soak up
the sun in years unless I was dragged, clawing at the ground, by Sally. I
wasn’t afraid of skin cancer, since it was a thing of the past. I just preferred
the cozy confines of my own home. I didn’t have to deal with bystanders gawking
at my figure, or attempting to socialize with strangers.

I
glanced at the clock again. It was a little before nine. I usually served
breakfast around ten. Every morning, he had been awake by the time I made it to
the basement. It was as if he never slept. Usually, we ate every meal together
while I fired questions at him. I was sure that he was bored when he was by
himself and was waiting for my visits. Maybe, if I was lucky, I could drop off
breakfast and leave before he woke. It was my best shot of avoiding him. I was
going to have to make this fast.

Cereal
was a quick meal that I didn’t have to put much into. Orange juice in one hand
and the bowl in the other, I finagled the door open as quietly as possible. As
old as the house was, I was glad that someone had gone around and lubricated
the door hinges to stop the squeaks. I had to add that to my list of things to
thank Chase for, next time I saw him.

To
my surprise, Job was still asleep. He was in the same position as the night
before: holding onto the sofa pillow in front of him; the bowl sitting on my
chair, full of cold ravioli. I could hear his soft snores as I got closer.
Setting breakfast down, I gathered the unused napkins and bowl and made my way
back out of the room before he could see me. As I passed the foot of the bed, I
could see that the towel had been soaked through by a bag that had not held
when the ice had melted. I wanted to leave it there, and let Sally take care of
the mess, but then remembered she was not going to be coming over today so she
could prepare. The thought made me shudder.

Hoping
not to wake him, I took all the bags, including the broken one, and pulled the
towel up, dripping with warm water. Underneath, I had hoped his leg would
magically look better, but it didn’t. It still had the blue and purple sheen of
skin stretched way too tight. It had traveled down his ankle and through the
top of his foot. Most of this had been hidden by the elastic wrap. It was
painful just to look at. I was wondering how he could stay so calm.

I
quickly made my exit back to the kitchen for more ice and a new towel. Most of
the stock of ice had been depleted, but I took what was left, filling my arm,
and grabbed one of the many large towels from the hall closet. I had stopped
worrying about getting anything on them. It was pointless to care. They could
be replaced at any time; Job could not.

Carrying
my load back down the steps, I half expected him to be awake again, ready to
have a real conversation like the night before. His eyes were still closed, though,
chest moving up and down rhythmically.

Setting
everything down on the floor, I saw the piece of tape that had I fixated on the
night before. I peeled it up and crumpled it, shoving it into a pocket of my
shorts. Standing up with the towel, I laid it across the battered leg, covering
it from sight again. I already felt better, not having to look at the reminder
of what tomorrow would bring.

I
began to arrange the bags as best as possible, trying to cover every angle.
Before I could finish, I heard a loud yawn coming from the other end of the
bed.

I
had failed my mission of being inconspicuous by just minutes. He had already
taken notice of my being there and I waited for him to start talking. He was
silent as usual, just looking at me with a questioning look on his face. One
eyebrow rose higher than the other, waiting for me to say anything. I looked
away and continued my work with the last two ice packs. I could hear the
hissing of air being sharply drawn through clenched jaws. As much as I didn’t
want to cause pain, it was good to know it was still there. There had been no
change since the previous day, but at least the damage had not progressed during
the night. There still might be hope, after all.

I
took my leave without saying a word. There was nothing to say. If I tried to
talk, I would start crying again. He would ask why, and I would tell him. This was
not what I had planned. I had planned to avoid him through the day until Sunday
morning. I had enough on my plate to deal with tonight, getting through a date
with a man I had no desire to be with. It was going to be tough enough keeping
secrets from him.

Lunch
came and went with the same results. Soggy cereal sat in the bowl, untouched;
the orange juice gone warm. Checking him over brought lots of pain and misery,
but still no change. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. He was
making a silent statement, and I wasn’t going to budge. I knew it would be
pointless to leave lunch, but I set a chicken sandwich and a bottle of water down
on the chair, hoping his defiance would soon wear down.

Back
upstairs, I started getting ready for my forced outing by taking a shower and
getting my clothes ready. I had no idea what to wear for a date, since it had
been so long since I had one.

As
I pulled out each garment, I found that some moths had discovered my clothes and
eaten holes through some of my favorites. I sadly piled the ruined ones on my
bed, to be thrown out. I finally decided on a short black skirt and one of my
favorite sleeveless blouses, which was made of electric blue, silk. It had
survived the moth attack, and still looked as vibrant as I remembered. It
always brought out my blue eyes, almost matching perfectly. I still didn’t understand
why I was going to great lengths to get dressed up, since I knew the night
would end in his disappointment, but I was having fun, and I deserved a little
bit every now and again.