I had been in the hospital for three and a half weeks. I spent five days in the intensive care unit after I had developed a blood infection, but I don't really remember those days. Eddie would later tell me that I was on a ventilator and dialysis. I wouldn't have known if he hadn't told me. Jordan still came to visit me most every night. We would talk about work, the weather, and other benign things. Jordan rarely tried to delve into what was wrong with me; if she did, I managed to shut her down. She brought Calleigh to visit once or twice a week. I looked forward to her visits. Nothing made me happier than watching my daughter try to read abrupt sentences about Jack, Jane, and Spot running. I wished I could trap those moments in a snow globe as to keep them fresh forever.
I was being moved to a rehabilitation facility today. It was hard to be excited about that. The doctors told me it was necessary; I could barely walk and the weakness in my right arm persisted. The doctors assured me that it was no more than a one week commitment. I kept insisting that I wanted to go home; I wanted to go back to my half unpacked apartment. I wanted life to go back to normal. Instead, my broken body was going to be carted off to a glorified nursing home. The nurses called it good news; I called it a dimension of pissed off that I had never experienced before.
"So it's moving day," Jordan commented when she walked into my hospital room. My things were in a small box; I told the nurses to make sure that the pictures Calleigh had drawn for me were moved with special care. I was woken up at six in the morning for my daily sponge bath by a nurse that felt nothing but sympathy for me. I could see it in how she moved my body; I would go completely limp. I would crawl inside my mind to get away from the humiliation of being looked at as broken and helpless. I was dressed in a hospital gown and robe. It took three nurses to help me into the wheelchair where I sat scowling at the world.
"Yah," I replied. I looked at her hopeful that maybe she brought Calleigh with her; it was probably too early in the morning. I wanted to see her just in case the visits from Jordan stopped; the nearest rehabilitation facility that the Boston PD would pay for was twenty minutes outside of Boston. I knew that twenty minutes was a long time for a child to sit in a car. I had already resigned myself to believe that Jordan would not be coming to see me.
"Hey, cheer up. You're getting out," Jordan replied as she pulled a chair up next to me and placed a blanket over my lap, "I'll go get her . . . I wanted to make sure that you were decent."
She disappeared for a second. I could hear the footsteps headed towards my door; they were closely spaced and fast. Calleigh always waited right outside the door while Jordan made sure that I didn't look like death warmed over. The nurses commented that Calleigh was such a well-behaved girl. They said that she was a beautiful girl. I told them that she was my friend's daughter; the one nurse said that Calleigh had my nose. I laughed it off, but I was secretly thrilled to know that I was part of her.
"Woody," Calleigh said as she bounced into the room. That was the only way to describe her gait. It was somewhere between a skip and a run. It was exuberant and free.
"Hi, sweetie," I said as she crawled up on my lap. Calleigh and I had perfected the movements needed to get her situated on my left side. She would wrap her arms around my neck. Several times she had fallen asleep on my lap; a few of the times, I had also fallen asleep. Jordan said she had a hard time prying Calleigh from my arms. Once in a drug induced haze, I told Jordan that I didn't want to let her go. The simple comment made Jordan cry. She apologized to me. She apologized to me profusely for all the lies that her family was built on. The next day, I apologized to her for threatening the balance her family was built upon. I hadn't expected to fall in love with the little girl; I hadn't expected to want the duties that came along with fatherhood. I had begun to think Jordan had counted on me getting scared and running.
"Make sure to be gentle," Jordan reminded Calleigh, "So what time do you leave?"
"Whenever the ambulance gets here to take me," I replied. I tried not to sound angry.
"I need to drop Calleigh off at pre-school, but I'll stop by to make sure you are settled," Jordan replied. I knew the tone of her voice; I knew that it was time to talk. I knew that she had patiently waited until there would be a venue that was more private and neutral. I wondered exactly what she wanted to talk about.
"What are you doing at school today?" I asked. Jordan and Nigel had decided to send Calleigh to a Montessori school. I had no idea what this was; most of my learning was through Calleigh. She would tell me about her weekly goals and the lessons she was exploring. Jordan said it was the best option for Calleigh; Calleigh was intelligent and inquisitive. Jordan said Montessori would foster that. I didn't think to argue that. I smiled and took comfort in the fact that Jordan was so involved in Calleigh's life.
"Math," Calleigh replied. I knew the tone; I used to use that tone with my father when I didn't want to do my homework. I hated math with a passion. I never remember liking math. I loved literature. It was a well kept secret that I would occasionally pull out an old dusty copy of Great Expectations or MacBeth. I was amazed how much Calleigh and I had in common; I wished I could tell her why we had those things in common.
"Woody, your ride is here," Tammy said as she stuck her head in the door.
"I didn't think our visit would be this short. Calleigh, say good-bye to your . . . say good-bye to Woody," Jordan said. I wondered what she almost said; I hoped that she was going to say that I was Calleigh's father. I hoped that Jordan was becoming much more comfortable with that idea. God knows, I was ready to scream it from the rooftops.
The little girl hugged me. I told her to be good . . . to mind her mother. She nodded. Calleigh kissed my left hand; she told my arm to get better. It was nearly enough to bring me to my knees. She was so innocent; I hoped she would stay that way forever. I prayed that she would always be naïve and trusting; I didn't want her to be like Jordan and I . . . I didn't want her to wake up one day and wonder when she became such a cold person.
"I'll pick up breakfast," Jordan said as she helped Calleigh into her winter coat, hat and mittens.
"Thanks, Jordan. Drive safe," I said as they left. Calleigh waved as they left the room. I wondered how she turned out so perfect when Jordan and I were so messed up. We were messed up by the doings of our parents. We were both terrified of becoming our parents. My father was neglectful and abusive; Jordan's father lied and kept secrets.
I numbed myself as I was loaded into the ambulance. I think I fell asleep during the ride. The next thing I remembered was being carted down a hallway that smelled of urine. I knew I wouldn't like this place. If anything, it was motivation to get walking as fast as possible. I was determined to get out of here within a week.
"I guess I beat you here," Jordan said as my gurney was wheeled into what would be my room. It was dank and dark. It reeked of a stench that I couldn't quite put my finger on. She had breakfast; she could have brought me dog food and I would have eaten it . . . I was positive that it couldn't be any worse than the delicacies presented to me at the hospital.
My body was moved into the bed. It was too short and the mattress was too worn. I was uncomfortable the second I was placed in the bed. I no longer had the metal bars to adjust my body position. I squirmed to get remotely comfortable.
"Are you going to be okay?" Jordan asked. I guess I must have looked like I reached my breaking point. Truthfully, I could feel the helplessness begin to surface. I hated feeling that way. I spent five years feeling that way. It hadn't gotten me too far; it turned me into a person that I barely recognized.
"I don't know . . .," I replied, "If I shrink six inches, I might be a little more comfortable."
"Calleigh's going to be tall like you. She's already in the 80th percentile for height. She's going to be a string bean," Jordan said as she helped me adjust my pillow. She had become good at taking care of the broken. She took care of Max and Nigel. Now, she was taking care of me. Her comment made me laugh. I was a late bloomer; it took me awhile to grow into my body.
"Ready for breakfast," Jordan said as she handed me my 'whussy' coffee.
"Fruit and bagels . . . very food pyramid," I commented. Jordan told me to be thankful that I wasn't eating what came on the breakfast tray for me.
"I missed you every day . . . I still miss you every day," I said. I hadn't expected to say that. I'm glad I did; it made me feel a little freer. I was a little closer to pushing the demons out of the forefronts of my life. I was a little closer to becoming whole again. I wanted to be whole again so Calleigh wouldn't always ask me why I was so sad. I was damn tired of being sad.
"I missed you too. Why did you leave without saying good-bye?" she asked. Jordan was leaning over me. I could smell her perfume. She was slicing the bagel for me. Jordan was acutely aware of my limitations. The cast and pins in my arm severely limited my ability to do anything for myself.
"I didn't want to be talked out of running. Jordan, I didn't go because of you. I left because I needed to start figuring things out . . . I needed to grow up," I replied. She was so close to me that I wanted to touch her. I was afraid she would pull away. She had every reason to pull away; she had a family now.
"Where did you go?" Jordan asked. She sounded hurt; I hated it when she was hurt.
"Milwaukee. I didn't find what I was looking for. You were right . . . home was right behind me the entire time. If I had known about . . ., I would have come home," I replied. Jordan lingered close to me for a few extra seconds. I wish she would have stayed longer . . . been closer.
"What made you come home?" she asked as she began to attend to her own breakfast. She looked tired. I wondered why she looked so tired this week.
"I proposed to this amazing woman and she got up and walked out of the restaurant without me and the ring," I replied. That was one hell of a huge slip; I hadn't intended for her to know that. I didn't want anyone to ever know that. My own brother didn't even know about Sara; he didn't even know Sara existed. I figured it might be time to start coming clean; Jordan wanted honesty. She made it clear this week that she wanted to know me again; I was the one that had become a different person. She had called me on that once. I still felt like I knew Jordan; very little about her had changed. I'm glad it hadn't; she was still the woman that I fell in love with, fell out of love with, and fell in love with again and again.
"I'm sorry. She would have been lucky to have you," Jordan commented.
"No, she was smart to get out when she had the chance. I know what I've become. I don't know if I like what I've become," I replied.
"That's a little harsh," Jordan commented, "You're good with Calleigh. She wouldn't love you if she thought you were some kind of monster."
"I missed so much," I replied as I picked at the fruit.
"You're here now," Jordan replied. I squirmed in the bed in an attempt to try to find a comfortable position; no such luck.
"Aren't you going to ask why Sara refused to marry me?" I asked. I continued to pick at breakfast.
"Is it my business?" Jordan asked.
"Sara told me that she could never be you. I never told her about you, but I compared her to you every day," I replied.
"That was a long time ago. We aren't the same people," Jordan commented. I didn't know how to reply to that. I sat mute for a few moments while Jordan and I tried to gather our thoughts.
I know, Jordan. You are so much better than I remember.
"Are you and Nigel happy?" I asked. I knew this was none of my business. I didn't expect her to answer me. I figured I had already begun to tell her my secrets; it was about time that we laid all our cards on the table.
"He's been a great friend to me; he's been great to have around the house. Our relationship is a really great friendship . . . it's not the physical relationship that you are conjuring up in your head. We put on an okay show for people. Garrett and Dad were the only ones that could see through it," Jordan replied. I knew she hadn't intended to give me the long explanation as she just had. Jordan blushed crimson and looked down at the floor.
"Are you happy?" I asked again.
"I have a home and family, but I am so damn lonely," Jordan replied. She sounded choked up.
"Why do you do that to yourself?" I asked. I knew why before I even asked the question; it was all for Calleigh.
"Woody, Nigel's cancer is back. He needs me right now. Nigel was there whenever I needed him," Jordan replied. She set down the bagel that she was picking at. She began to openly cry. I couldn't remember the last time I saw her openly express emotions other than anger and hurt; it was probably the night that I got her pregnant.
"I'm so sorry," I replied. I knew it was an inadequate response. I couldn't even imagine how she was feeling; I couldn't begin to imagine the stress that Jordan was dealing with, "How bad?"
"Metastasis to the brain, liver, and lymph nodes," Jordan replied in a harsh whisper. I didn't know much about medicine, but I knew that was really bad. I knew that Jordan and Calleigh would be hurt badly by the disease.
"When does he start treatment?" I asked.
"Nigel doesn't. Surgery for the brain tumor would paralyze him. Surgery for the liver tumor would cause him to bleed to death . . . he's not producing many clotting factors anymore. It's the end of the road. Neither of us knows what to do about it. Nigel doesn't want to waste away in a hospital bed; I don't want him to be in pain," Jordan replied. I pushed the bedside table away. I tried to move closer to Jordan. She noticed. She sat at the edge of my bed; I pulled her close to me. I ran my fingers down her back; she leaned over onto my chest. I tried my best to hold her as she cried. I was surprised she hadn't pulled away from me; I had expected her to pull away. I remembered what it was like to want to do absolutely anything to protect Jordan. The feelings were more intense now that Calleigh was involved. This was that first time that I knew what it felt to want to trade places with someone; I would have traded places with Nigel if it meant that Calleigh and Jordan would be happy.
"So what's next?" I asked her. I whispered. I almost didn't want to hear her answer.
"He dies," Jordan replied, "I took a leave of absence at the morgue so I could be at home. It's only going to be a matter of weeks . . . maybe four or five." She worked to compose herself. She failed miserably.
"I'm so sorry. What can I do?" I asked.
"I don't know. I don't even know what I need anymore," Jordan replied.
"Does Calleigh know?" I asked.
"No, she knows he's sick again, but I don't think she understands how sick," Jordan replied. She had quieted markedly. Her head rested against my chest. It had been so many years since I felt her skin against mine. I missed it. I missed everything about her.
"You just let me know when you need help. Let me be the one to help you," I said as I ran my fingers through her long, straight hair. It was about damn time that I said that. I should have said that nearly five years ago.
"You need to help yourself heal first. Nigel has a hospice care nurse that stops by the house daily to make sure that he's taken his meds and he's eaten. She helps me. She helps me keep him from feeling pain," Jordan choked, "Nigel is bed bound again. He doesn't walk well. Sometimes, he forgets who Calleigh and I are." I knew I needed to help myself become mobile; I had a whole new reason to do that now.
"I'll be there, Jordan. Just give me a week. When did this all start?" I asked.
"Three weeks ago. Nigel had a migraine headache. I made him go to the doctor . . . it just didn't feel right," Jordan replied as she continued to cry softly. I could hear her occasionally choke on her tears. I didn't know what else to do; I held her until she pulled away. I remember how much it hurt when Jordan pulled away from me. She was another thing that I just didn't want to let go.
"I need to get going. The hospice nurse leaves in a half hour. Take care of yourself," Jordan said as she dried her eyes.
"Take care of Calleigh and Nigel. Don't worry about me," I replied. I reached my left hand out for her. I was surprised she took it.
"I probably won't be around much anymore," Jordan said. As much as I hated to hear it, I understood.
"Don't worry about me. Go home and do what you need to. I'll be back soon enough," I replied. She dropped my hand and collected her things. She began to walk to the door.
"Woody, I don't think you've changed as much as you want to think you have," Jordan said in the seconds before she walked out the door to my room. This was the first time that I was beginning to think that I hadn't changed . . . I had just lost myself somewhere along the way.