Envelope 47
Author's Note: Be prepared, we're jumping ahead in time soon...
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"I'll get it," Mo said as he took the bowl from Linnea's hands that had Don's vomit in it.
"Thank you," she said as she handed Don a towel and he wiped at his mouth. He then picked up his glass of water and swished to rinse out the vomit taste before he spit onto the grass.
"Thanks, sorry," Don said willing his stomach to settle.
Linnea leaned down and kissed the top of his baseball cap. They were sitting outside and getting some fresh air on an August evening.
"I hate this," Don said tiredly.
"Well, I would hope you wouldn't like it," Linnea said as she took his hand in hers. "One more round."
Don grunted.
"How are the bowls coming?" Don asked her as he nodded to the garage.
"They look more like bowls," Linnea chuckled. "Want to see a few?"
Don nodded and watched her get up and walk toward the garage where her make-shift potter's studio had been. She had got the pottery wheel about two weeks into living with them and had spent a couple of hours there each day by herself. It was her escape from him, from Kit and, when Agnes was home, from Agnes. She had been amazing, holding his family together in a way he hadn't expected. She had slept with him every night, sometimes in his arms and sometimes on the other side of the bed, but her presence was always felt. She had kept track of Kit's comings and goings and deferred to Don when decisions needed to be made, never taking over the role of parent. She talked with Don like he was still a man and not a vomiting weak person that needed to be assisted and, when he did feel well, for about a week in between treatments, they went out for a walk or to a movie. This third round had hit him hard and, when he was usually starting to feel better, he was still throwing up.
He watched her walk from the garage and noted that she was also thinner, she may have lost half the weight he had, and she wasn't in treatment. He knew it was worry, about him, about the kids. Don reached for a Saltine cracker that was always within reach and chewed it slowly, hoping it would help his stomach and thinking he could offer her a few to help fatten her up.
"What do you think?" Linnea asked as she handed him two bowls. "They are my best ones."
Don put down the Saltines and took one from her and admired it, "you've improved."
She smiled at him, enjoying the praise.
"They're beautiful," Don said as he turned one in his hands. "Honestly, you need to sell these or something."
Linnea sat down next to him and crossed one leg over another. "Most Embassies ask the ambassador to provide some art to mark their time at the embassy. I thought I would leave a piece of pottery at the Singapore Embassy."
"Well, you have a few years to…"
"Maybe," Linnea said.
Don looked at her. "Maybe?"
Linnea looked at him and smiled.
"Maybe?" Don asked again as he turned his body slowly toward hers.
Linnea took the bowls from him and sat them down on the table next to her.
"I'm considering a change," she said as she met his eyes. "Nothing concrete, nothing decided. But Singapore a quite far away."
Don furrowed his brow.
"You love your job," he said as he touched her arm.
She nodded and looked toward the garden.
"Linnea," Don said as he shifted in his seat and tried to get her attention.
"Don, I haven't decided but…"
"But, don't," he said softly.
She turned and looked at him. "Don…"
"I'm quitting," he said as he met her eyes. "I haven't been happy for a while. Cooper got me thinking and cancer got me really thinking…"
"Thinking what?" Linnea asked.
"Thinking that I have enough money to retire, and I want to spend my time in ways that make me happy," Don said. "The FBI isn't that anymore. The kids, you…travel, the cottage…those things make me happy."
Linnea looked at him surprised.
"I'm thinking that Kit's not happy in regular school, so maybe I hire him a private educator, he gets so frustrated with school…"
Her brow furrowed.
"He and I can come to Singapore for a month if we want," Don said with a smile. "A few times a year…"
Linnea's heart raced at the prospect of having him for large chunks of time.
"I can slow down a little, spend more time on things that make me happy, get back in shape after this," Don said quietly, knowing his body was looking more and more like a skeleton everyday.
Linnea nodded.
"I want that time," Don said. "And I can take that time. So, I'm going to."
Linnea looked at him excited.
"I think I like that," Linnea said with a smile.
"I will give my notice in the new year," Don said. "I hope to take a few months to get my body back, and I'm hoping Kit and I can spend next spring or summer with you, if you'll have us?"
Linnea leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I will always have you."
"You sure you're not sick of me, of us?"
Linnea smiled broadly. "I struggle with the lack of personal time, but I could never be sick of you or your children."
"Maybe Agnes can come for a bit," Don said.
"Yes, she enjoys Singapore," Linnea said with a smile. "Are you sure about this?"
Don nodded and covered her hand with his.
"I am so sure," he said clearly.
Linnea nodded and looked up at the sky, the clouds were rolling in quickly.
"We better get in," Linnea said as she stood and reached for Don's arm to help him stand.
He groaned and stood carefully and started to walk slowly toward the stairs to get inside.
"I know I have said this before," Don said as he glanced at her and smirked. "But you are a god send, Linnea."
She wrapped an arm through his and walked up the stairs with him slowly, making sure he didn't topple over.
"I'm selfish," Linnea said.
Don looked at her, confused.
"I want you back," she said softly. "I want my Don."
He nodded sadly. "I'm sorry he's not here right now."
"He's there, but he's going to be back better than before," Linnea said with a smile.
Don chuckled. "At least you're not calling me a selfish asshole."
Linnea chuckled with him.
"I hope you haven't shared that with anyone," Linnea said. "Out of context, telling a man that just out of surgery diagnosed with cancer, looks bad."
"You think?" Don chuckled.
Linnea smiled at him.
He patted her hand. "Our secret. And, really, you were right."
"I know," she smiled at him.
They walked into the kitchen to see a rare sight, Kit standing in the kitchen making something.
"What are you making?" Don asked, surprised.
"I thought I'd make us pasta," Kit said with a smile.
Linnea and Don exchanged a look; he'd never expressed an interest in cooking before, happily inhaling whatever Linnea made.
"That's great Kit," Don smiled at his son.
"I know you like this sauce," Kit said holding up a jar. Don's stomach did a flip. It was not the day for an acidic sauce, but he didn't want to dampen Kit's spirit.
"Great," Don said with a forced smile.
"I knew you'd like it," Kit smiled at him.
Kit had been upset by the changes in his father's appearance, the loss of weight, the vomiting, the sallow complexion, the nodding off to sleep…it was very different from the dad who didn't stop, the dad who went on runs, the dad who was more often red in skin tone than pale. He was a shell of his dad and Kit needed to help him get back to the dad he knew.
"This is great Kit," Linnea smiled at him as she walked behind Don who was walking toward the living room.
He sat heavily on the sofa and looked toward the kitchen.
"We need to figure something out," Don whispered. "I have to eat his pasta."
Linnea nodded and looked back toward the kitchen. "I will find a way."
Don grabbed her arm as she moved toward the kitchen. "Don't get him to make it different, I don't want to…"
"No, I won't," she nodded.
Don let go of her arm and watched her walk into the kitchen and set the table for three. Agnes was coming home on Sunday for a couple days and he was excited to see her again. She'd last been home after round two and he knew the changes in him would upset her. He hoped not too much.
Don sat in the living room looking out the window as raindrops started to hit it. The clouds had rolled in quickly and the storm was going to be fierce judging by the black skies.
"Are the windows closed?" Don called to them.
Linnea asked Kit to run upstairs and close any windows and he ran past Don.
Don watched Linnea lean over the table to close a window and he waited for something to stir in his lower half as he looked at her ass…nothing. He was not a stupid man, he knew that getting a testicle taken off was not going to make him a eunuch, but he had been unable to have sex with her after surgery and before treatment started. He was healed and wanting that connection before chemo started and sex was off the table for months. Possibly he wanted to feel like a man again, to feel like with one testicle or two, it didn't matter. And, despite her very naked body, his very naked body, and him wanting to have sex, nothing had happened. It was the first time in his adult life that he had been unable to perform. Linnea was understanding, light-hearted even, and had given him the best naked massage of his life. But, even with her perched on top of his ass, nothing stirred.
And now, nothing.
He was trying not to worry, trying to chalk it up to surgery, chemo, cancer, worry, his emaciated body…but he couldn't help but worry. He couldn't help but wonder if this aspect of his life would be dodgey and not as reliable as it had always been. He tried not to think about what that said about him, that he was a shallow person, maybe? That he wasn't grateful to be alive. That he was somehow less of a man.
He watched Kit run past him and back into the kitchen and listened to Linnea and Kit talking to each other about draining the pasta and stirring the sauce. Don leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
What felt like a minute passed, and Don felt Kit shaking his shoulder. "Come on dad."
Don woke and nodded and walked slowly into the kitchen where he sat down with Linnea and Kit and looked down at a plate of pasta and salad that was going to make him throw up. He then looked across at his smiling son and couldn't help but smile, somehow, he was doing to get this food down.
"Looks great," Don said as he stabbed a piece of pasta that seemed to be sauce-less in the back corner of his plate and put it in his mouth.
He watched Linnea eat her pasta as if she was starving and Kit eat like he always did, like he had a hollow leg that he needed to fill.
Linnea and Kit started to talk about the overnight camp he was going to from Wednesday to Sunday with Jeremy and Don chewed on the one piece of penne for about five minutes, willing it to stay down when he swallowed.
"I forgot my bowls outside! Kit, could you…?"
Kit nodded and stood walking quickly toward the door and outside into the rain.
Linnea quickly switched her plate with Don's, and he looked at her confused. She had eaten over half her pasta and salad and…
"Oh my god, thank you," Don said relieved when he realized what she was doing.
"You are responsible for the carb that will put another layer of fat on me, because now I need to eat yours as well," she said with a chuckle before Kit ran in the door.
Don leaned over and kissed her, pinching her skinny ribs. "You can use the carbs."
"No, I…" Linnea started.
"I didn't see them," Kit said as he stood soaking wet inside the door.
"Aren't they?" Linnea asked as she stood and looked out the window. "I'm sorry, I thought…oh Kit…"
She got up and grabbed towels from the washroom and handed him one before she started to towel dry his head playfully while he laughed. Don watched Kit looking at Linnea from under the towel and his heart broke a little, Kit had never known a mother, and Linnea wasn't his mother, but she was something close to one, in exactly the way that Kit needed.
They finished drying him and laughing and dropped the towels on the counter before they re-joined Don at the table. Kit looked at his father's plate and smiled.
"You liked it?" Kit asked, expectantly.
"I loved it," Don said, his voice breaking.
Kit smiled back and sat down with his dad and Linnea. Kit dove back into his food and Linnea started on her second plate of pasta as Don sat back and smiled.
To be continued….