Infinity: Based on a True Story (12 page)

“You should be a psychiatrist,” I teased him when he put the car in park.

“Would you believe that’s what I wanted to be before becoming a chef?”

“No way!”

“Yep.” He smiled, shutting the car off. “But I only wanted to become that after dealing with my own demons.” He shrugged. “Not quite there yet. But I’ll get there.”

“I’m sure you will. It’s not an easy thing. It takes time. Trust me, I know.” I looked ahead of me at the tall, black building. It wasn’t a business type. I could tell they were condos. “This is where you live?”

“Yeah… you don’t mind, right? I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable about being here. I won’t try anything crazy, I swear.” He held up his hands innocently, his keys dangling in air.

“No, I don’t mind at all. I thought we were going to get something to eat, though.”

“Oh… well, see, I figured since I cook for a living, the least I could do is make you a meal.”

Giddiness ran through me. “You’re serious? You’re going to cook for me, the strange girl?”

He busted out in a laugh, climbing out the car. Pressing a hand on top of it and peering inside at me, he said, “I will, just as long as she promises not to attack me with a wrench.”

I hopped out of the car and he met at my side. “Ohh, good one! You better hope I like your cooking. We’ll see if you’re as great as the reviews say.”

“Oh, now I’m a little afraid.” He wrapped an arm across my shoulder, hesitant at first, but I fell victim to his touch, sliding in closer to his side.

He liked that.

He liked me.

“
S
hannon
?” Fingers snap in my face and I sit back.

Sonny’s face comes into focus, her gray eyes bright. “Did you hear me?”

“Huh? What?”

“John made chickpea soup with toasted baguettes. Do you want some?”

I take a look around the room, stopping at the bathroom door. John is in there. The door is cracked open and I can see him gripping the counter edge with his head hung low.

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll take some.” I don’t want it but I need her to leave so I can talk to him alone. My eyes don’t drift from where he stands, glaring down at the sink.

“All right. Coming right up.”

She saunters out of the bedroom and with the little energy I have, I climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom door. When I push it open, John glances up at me, his eyes wet.

“John?”

He looks away.

“What’s the matter?” I place my jetpack on the countertop, grabbing his arm to turn him and then cupping his face. One thick tear lines his face, his eyes cloudy and full of sadness. Seeing him like this makes my heart ache.

I take full blame for whatever he may be feeling.

I hate that he’s suffering like this.

“Baby, why are you crying?” I whisper.

He swipes at his face roughly, like a child, but I stop him. “I… need to be here. I can’t be at work while you go through this.”

“I’m okay, baby. I swear. Today was just a small mishap. I won’t let it happen again. I thought I could handle it but I was wrong.”

“It’s not just about today… every day from now on.” He picks me up and sits me on top of the counter. Stepping between my legs and looking down at me, his arms going around my waist, he whispers, “I swear I don’t want to leave, but I have to next week.”

“Next week?” I frown. “Leave to go where?”

“There’s a cook-off competition for chefs. Winner takes all. Money and a chance to open up our very own franchise, all expenses paid.”

I blink, lowering my hands.

“… I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“How long have you known about it?”

He lowers his head, ashamed. “Almost three months now.”

“Three months?! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You were going through so much and I didn’t want to leave but at the same time I did, but only because this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me. I was torn, Shannon, and I still am.

“They have this competition once every five years. Babe, I’m only locally known by name. Not countrywide. If I go to the competition, I’ll have a chance to really get my name out there. My recipes. My passion for cooking. I’ll even be able to name a restaurant after me. You know that’s always been a dream and a goal of mine. I’m tired of working for people. I want to be my own boss. Create my own menu… make whatever I want to make.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, dropping my head.

He picks it back up. “When I got the email, it was the day the black traces returned. I was going to tell you over the dinner I had planned, that I got accepted to the cook off, but you got sick and, after that, it never seemed like the right time.”

I’m quiet for a moment, doing my best to remain casual about his news. “Well… you should go, honey. Go. Where will it be?”

“Las Vegas.”

“Oh. That’s great then! I’ll go with you. Vegas is always fun, and I can ask Sonny to tag along to help me out while you do the cook-off.”

I hop down from the counter, reaching for my device, but he stops me, catching my elbow and spinning me back around to face him again.

“No—Shannon, babe, that’s the thing…” He looks me over before looking away. My face straightens and I blink rapidly, afraid of his response. “I talked to Dr. Barad about it and I asked him if you could come with me. He said the flight wouldn’t be a problem as long as you have your device and you’re in first class with plenty of space, but the dry heat in Vegas might be.”

“The dry heat?”

“Yes. He will explain it to you tomorrow. But I asked him myself and what he’s pretty much saying is since your lungs seem to be drying out already, that the desert heat and air will only make it worse.”

“Oh.” A crack forms on my heart, causing an indescribable ache.

Not being able to see my husband participate in a national cook-off? Not being able to see him have fun doing something he loves, and maybe get huge recognition for his talent? It sucks—a blow right to the gut—but I have to continue being supportive and act unbothered because he wants this. He
needs
this.

If he wins, he’ll have something worth holding on for, even after I’m gone. Something worth living for. “Well, it’s okay, Johnny.” I clasp his face. “I completely understand. Don’t let me hold you back. You know I’ll be rooting for you.” I force a smile and then rest my forehead on his chest. “It’s gonna be on TV, right?”

“Yeah.”

“My hubby on TV. How cool is that?”

He struggles with a laugh. “I want you there,” he says, his voice breaking.

“I want to be there.”

“Don’t worry. I’m taking off the rest of this week. I want to spend it with you before I go.” He presses against me, holding my shoulders. “I’ll only be gone for the weekend. After the competition, I will be right back.”

“I’ll be here. Don’t worry!” I give him a childlike smile.

He reels me in, holding me close, nuzzling the crook of my neck as I wrap my arms around his. “Tell me you won’t do anything crazy while I’m gone.”

My laugh tumbles out, playful. Light. “I won’t do anything
too
crazy.”

“Nothing crazy at all.” He tilts his head down, kissing my forehead. “I want to come back to that glorious smile. That beautiful personality. The wonderful love we share. You and all of your perfections.”

“And you will.”

He studies my face as if he’s never seen it up close like this before. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, I know, babe.”

“And that I’m only hard on you because I care so much about you?”

I roll my eyes. “Yep.”

“I love you so much, Shannon. I don’t think you realize just how much.”

“I love you more, Johnny.”

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, those piercing blue eyes bolting with mine. The air stills, but something swims deep within his irises. Desire. Longing. A hunger I haven’t seen in weeks.

Placing me on top of the counter again, he holds my face in his hands, kissing me with the passion I’ve missed.

He seizes this opportunity, taking control, making this moment ours. The kiss is long and deep and I love every single second of it.

My fingers tangle in his hair, my back pressing onto the cool mirror. My legs wrap around him and he slides the ends of my tubes aside, giving himself complete access to my mouth.

Devouring my lips, he rolls his tongue with mine, groaning as his arousal presses between my legs. I cling to him, sighing and moaning and aching—wanting him badly, but knowing he won’t give it all to me.

He thrusts between my thighs, causing a friction that gets my body going. Holding on tighter, I reach for the hem of his shirt and tug it up.

When I pull it off, I study his solid body. The hairs on his chest. His lips part, revealing two rows of shiny white teeth. Breathless, I study my husband and all of his masculine glory.

My man. My beautiful, breathtaking man.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. He hugs me, apologizing in my ear for getting carried away.

“No,” I whisper. “It’s okay. There is no need to apologize.”

I need this.

I want it.

Badly.

When he leans back, prepared to stop, I reel him back in, crushing his mouth with mine, holding him close, his skin hot and damp.

This time, I don’t think he’ll stop. It’s been so long. Three months too long. He’s been so afraid to touch me. Afraid to love me properly. Afraid of doing anything out of fear that he just might make things worse.

Sonny walks into the bedroom with the soup, but in an instant he slams the bathroom door, sending Sonny right back out with a loud and embarrassed, “Oh my God! Ew!” before she’s gone.

We laugh, but the moment turns fiery again as he yanks my shorts down.

When his trousers and boxers are off, he brings me to the edge of the counter and takes me there. Gripping my hips, holding me close. Gluing his chest to mine, sucking on my skin as I toss my head back.

I can breathe, which is odd because moments like this tend to steal my breath right away.

His fingers thread through my hair, his thrusts full and deep. “Fucking love you,” he growls against my skin, his lips near the crook of my neck. “God, I love you.” He kisses me there sweetly, clutching my ass, groaning.

Several seconds later and he stiffens. I clench around his thickness, crying out his name. We both reach euphoric ecstasy, shooting towards the sky, clashing with the stars.

Bursting.

Exploding.

Catching in a furious blaze.

He jolts before stilling inside me, groaning loudly in my ear, releasing months of pent-up frustrations and confined love. We pant, sweat thick on our foreheads, eyes connected.

“Okay?” he asks breathlessly, holding my face in his hands.

I kiss his lips, wrapping one arm around the back of his neck. “Are you kidding?” I laugh. “I’ve never felt better, baby.”

His tears are gone. A momentary happiness has replaced them, along with sweet, deep laughter. It doesn’t matter that it’s only for a moment, as long as he’s smiling. As long as he’s happy. As long as he’s here.

That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

All he ever needed.

T
he days
fly by way too quickly.

Before I know it, I’m helping John pick neckties and packing his toiletries.

In between those days, I had my many wellness checks with Dr. Barad and spent a lot of time with Sonny. I was able to make it up and down the stairs, and although I had to take my time, I did it without passing out or tumbling down.

Of course, John was by my side during every step but I didn’t mind it. He’s going to be gone for four whole days. He may test my nerves from time to time, but I am going to miss him.

This is going to be the first time he’s been away from me for longer than twenty-four hours.

As I sit on the bed with my legs crossed, folding his T-shirts and shorts, a tear escapes me.

John is too busy in the closet, taking down his favorite chef hats and monogrammed shirts, explaining how excited he is for his trip.

I swipe the frustrating tear away. I can’t let him be a witness to it. If he sees me crying, he won’t leave. He’ll stay and I’ll feel horrible for holding him back from his dream.

I want to see him make it before I’m gone, which is why I straighten myself out, perking up as he rushes out of the closet, laying one of his shirts down.

“I had this one dry-cleaned today. All ready for the competition.” He looks up at me. “You think I’ll make it through the first round?”

I finish folding the final shirt. “Are you kidding? You’re going to slay that first round!”

“Nah.” His head shakes as he carefully folds the uniform. “I checked out the list. There are a lot of big names going out there. People that have inspired me. It’s going to be huge.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I climb on my knees, crawling towards him. “The world isn’t ready for John Streeter.”

I hug him around the waist, tugging him down on the bed. He sits, chuckling as he clings to me.

Sighing, he says, “I’ve been praying… and hoping.”

“You’ve got this.”

He lifts up my arm, weaving our fingers together. “I’m going to be a wreck without you there.”

“You’ll be fine, honey. Dean is going with you, right? He’ll definitely be rooting you on.”

“My cousin will be too worried about the girls and strippers than he will be about my cooking. He’s never understood my passion for it.”

“I’m sure he’ll still be around. He wouldn’t miss it.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “half-drunk. Anyway, I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you way more.” I tilt my chin, allowing him to press his lips to my temple. “Don’t do anything crazy,” I tease.

“I’ll be too busy thinking about you to do anything crazy.”

“And don’t go changing anyone’s tires during the middle of the night,” I go on.

He gets a kick out of that one, his body shaking with laughter. “I won’t, Strange Girl.”

“Crazy Man.”

T
he next morning
, around 6:15 AM, I am kissing my husband goodbye. Sonny’s arm wraps around me and she holds me close.

So much emotion has been trapped inside me for the past week. So much I can’t explain. I’ve been forcing back the tears—refusing to get upset and end up begging him to stay. I’ve been strong, but I don’t think I can be stronger for much longer.

Now that he’s gone, I feel a hole in my chest—a cavity that won’t be filled until he returns.

And then there’s the knowing… knowing that any day now I might not be able to walk down my staircase or even to the bathroom in my bedroom. It could happen over the weekend, while he’s away.

It could happen today… while he’s on his flight.

That’s what scares me.

That’s what
kills
me.

The devastation it will bring. Sooner or later those blue and white pills won’t give me energy and the OPX won’t assist me.

My eyes welt, hot and thick with tears. I try blinking them away, batting my eyelashes wildly as I watch him walk through the terminal and wave once more.

When his plane finally takes off, I come to the realization that he’s gone—that he’ll be many miles away from me for way too many hours.

I won’t be able to touch him.

Hug him.

Kiss him.

Stare into his blue eyes.

Watch him laugh.

Feel him hold me during the middle of the night as we sleep…

The hole is bigger now, almost like little imaginary men are digging away at my heart, shoveling whenever a wave of emotion rushes by.

My tears finally fall free and Sonny holds me tighter, turning me around and whispering that we should go as we make way for the exit.

The ride is quiet. Not even the radio is on. Sonny understands. She allows me to dwell in the silence. When we get home, she helps me upstairs. I tell her I’m going to take a shower, which, in sister lingo means
I want to be left alone
.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a few.” She pats the top of my shoulder and walks out of the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Stripping myself bare, I step onto the cold marble shower floor, pressing my head on the wall across from me.

The warm water streams through my thin hair, down the curves of my back. Luckily, my tears blend with the water. I don’t feel as helpless. The warmth comforts only a small part of me.

I remember the shower we took a few days ago. How he held me from behind, showered me with kisses, allowing water to spill between our lips as they parted.

Then, the bathroom became steamy, heating up. I felt nothing but pure joy as we made love. As he gripped my slippery skin, and caressed every part of my body.

He held me so close, refusing to let go as I laughed behind his lips.

I cry even harder, my core getting sore from thick sobs and shuddering, glad to know my quiet cries blend with the white noise.

When I finally stop, I shut the shower off, carefully stepping out and wrapping my body in a white towel. I enter the bedroom, sitting on the center of the king-sized bed.

My phone rings during my blank stare at the wall across from me moments later.

M
AX

I
ignore the call
.

He calls again.

Ignore.

He calls once more.

I don’t answer.

My phone chimes.

A text.

I
place my phone down
.

I haven’t spoken to him since the day John told me he was going to Vegas. John deserved all of my attention and time, and it’s a good thing Max kept his distance during it.

A knock sounds on the door and Sonny trots in with a tray in her hand, a hot bowl of soup and juice sitting on top.

Placing it on the stand beside me, she says, “John told me to make sure you eat. I expect that bowl to be empty when I come back, missy.” She whips out her cellphone. “I’m going to go call Danny.”

She’s out of the door again, purposely avoiding looking into my puffy eyes. When I’m ready, I will talk to her. She knows this and luckily for me she respects it.

When she’s gone my eyes land on the tray, my upper lip peeling back in disgust. Food is the last thing I want right now.

Climbing off the bed, I march for my closet and take down a T-shirt and some jogging pants. After getting dressed, I go back for the tray, taking it to the bathroom, turning on the faucet, and dumping the apple juice down the sink. The tomato soup goes next.

My phone rings again and I rush back for it, snatching it up and answering. “What?!”

“Damn.” Max’s voice comes through the receiver. “Am I interrupting something?”

“What do you want?”

“I haven’t heard from you in a few days. Everything all right?”

“Yes. Everything is fine.” My tone is dry and he catches my standoffishness.

Hesitant, he asks, “Shakes, what’s going on?” His voice is full of concern. The sympathy from him feels like salt being rubbed into a deep wound. It hurts. Stings.

“I’m fine.” I do my best to keep my voice from trembling.

“You can talk to me. Remember that.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, tapping my foot, staring down at my pink toenails to prevent tears. It doesn’t work. I need to talk to someone.

Sonny is in too much of a cheerful mood because of her phone calls with Danny. I don’t want to ruin it right now with my problems.

So I go for it. “It’s…J—” Finally, I break down. I break because I can’t even say his name out loud without feeling the ache. “It’s John.” My voice is thick with tears. I want to wail—howl to the moon, but somehow I keep my composure.

“John? What do you mean? Did you argue with him before he left?”

I can’t speak. I have so much to say but I can’t fucking speak. Never in my life have I felt so weak. So helpless. So pointless. Never. How can the absence of one man make me feel this way?

“Shannon?” he calls, which makes it worse.

I crumble, sobbing into the phone. Not intentionally. I simply can’t help it.

Max curses beneath his breath. “Calm down, all right? Crying that hard isn’t good for your lungs…”

But I don’t.
I can’t.

“I’m on the way.” He hangs up and, with little effort, I drop the phone on the bed, walking to the light switches and shutting the lights off. The sun is still out, but the black curtains help me hide.

I slide beneath the sheets, curling up in the fetal position, allowing more darkness to cover me. Tears slide across the bridge of my nose, landing on the pillows.

My body shudders and shakes for nearly twenty minutes. Before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep.

When I wake up, it’s still bright outside.

I sit up quickly, glancing around the room with hope in my heart. Pushing out of bed, I march for the window and look out. That hope vanishes when I still see Sonny’s car out there.

If she’s still here, that means John isn’t.

I look back at the alarm clock.

2:15 p.m.

I sigh and go back to bed. Maybe I can sleep my days away until he comes back. I succumb.

A
hand touches my shoulder
, gentle fingers running through my hair. For a moment, I think it’s John… that is, until the familiar voice rises.

“Shakes?”

I sniffle. “Oh, hey, Max.”

He walks around the bed, bending down in front of me. “Hey.” He puts on a genuine smile. “What the hell is going on with you? Two days you were up here. Sonny told me not to bother you. Your doctor has been in and out, but he says you’re fine.

Has he? I didn’t even notice.

“Talk to me,” Max pleads.

My bottom lip twitches, ready to dump it all on him. I don’t think he’ll be able to handle the pressure, but as he looks at me, fully concerned, I finally let it out. “It’s John,” I whisper.

“You’re upset that he’s gone?”

“A little more than upset.”

He struggles with a smile and a frown. My worries subside for the briefest moment. It’s cute the way his face tries to configure to just one.

“I wanted to go with him but I can’t even do that. I can’t even make memories with him anymore. I’m stuck here. I’m fucking useless.”

“That’s bullshit. You can still go places.”

“But I couldn’t go
there
. Stupid dry heat. Stupid fucking lungs.”

He’s perplexed, observing my miserable demeanor. “Don’t think of it that way. That’s only one place in the world. There are far greater places to go… things to do.”

“It’s too late to go anywhere or do anything.”

He presses his lips, placing a hand on the top of my arm. “He will be back. I’m sure he misses you already.”

“How would you know?” I ask with a hint of frustration. “You don’t even like him.”

“Because I would miss you.” His eyes soften as he strokes my arm. “And he’s been calling Sonny non-stop about you ‘cause you aren’t answering your phone.”

I scramble for my phone, but when I pick it up and press the button, it doesn’t come on. Dead. I put it on the charger immediately and then climb back into bed.

With a heavy sigh, Max stands to his feet, helping me sit up. “No. No more of that. Come on,” he says, “You gotta get up. We have to get you out of this house. That might be what’s bringing you down. He’s everywhere in this place. You smell him. You see pictures of him. Everything in this house probably reminds you of him.”
True.
“Come on,” he repeats, this time with bass in his voice.

He tugs me up. “And go where?”

“Anywhere.”

“Not the park,” I tell him, sort of teasing.

“Doesn’t have to be the park. Maybe some ice cream? We can take Sonny.”

A smile touches my lips but not my eyes. “She’d love that.” And the fact that he offers to bring her stuns me. They hate dealing with each other.

“Get dressed,” he orders, helping me off the bed and then walking to the door. “I’ll be waiting downstairs when you’re ready.”

I nod my head, watching the door shut behind him. When he’s gone I sit for a while, staring at the wall across from me again.

Max is right. Being here all day, locked inside a home that belongs to us, will only wear me down. I could sit here and mope about my husband being gone and the truth that I could die at any given moment, but I won’t. I have to get back to how I was before.

I have to be strong. If not for them, then at least for myself.

I need to pull my shit together and that is exactly what I’m going to do. I stand up with my jetpack, entering the closet and taking down a navy-blue romper. I slip into it, grabbing my favorite brown fedora and sandals.

I take a thorough look in the mirror. The romper is a little big on me now, but it’ll have to do. The hat is still stylish, given to me by my baby sister.

I apply some gloss to my lips, a light coat of mascara, and then I’m out the bedroom door.

I stop at the top of the staircase and Max is already waiting at the bottom.

When he hears me coming down, his eyes expand, meeting mine. I can read so much from his expression alone. He likes what he sees.

I find it shocking since I no longer have the body I used to have when we were together. Being this thin is surprisingly disappointing.