LISA
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"How's Rosé?" Felix asks as I exit the plane. He and Rosé used to work together.
I slide my bag over my shoulder. "She finished her last round of chemo."
"That's good, right?"
"Yeah. It's good." I don't tell him it's the last trick in the bag. I don't tell him it didn't get all the cancer. I don't tell him hope has turned into acceptance. I don't tell anyone these things because I can't say them aloud.
"Well, tell her hi for me and that I miss her overly cheerful self."
My mouth finds a small smile as I nod. It's true. Rosé has always been glitter and confetti. Knowing her is a gift. Loving her is life. Saying goodbye will gut me.
On the way home, I pick up a bouquet of fuchsia tulips—her favorite. When I walk into the house, I hear the TV from our bedroom. After removing my shoes, I wash my hands in the kitchen, put the tulips in her favorite recycled glass vase, and carry it to the bedroom.
She's there.
She's alive.
That's all I need for this to be a great day.
"Captain Manoban." My wife grins from her side of the bed that's raised to a forty-five-degree angle.
My gaze attaches to hers while she shuts off the TV as if she can click the button before I notice that she's watching a reality TV show. She's not wearing anything on her head—a peach with a bit of hair attempting to sprout back to life.
She's too thin.
She's too frail.
She's too sick.
But she's always perfect in my eyes. Every time I see her, I have to take a minute to catch my breath and tell my heart to chill because it's impossible not to fall in love with her every single time I see her.
"Trashy TV, Mrs. Manoban?"
"Are those for me?" She ignores my TV comment and acts surprised that I brought her tulips.
I always … always bring home tulips.
"They might be for you. I haven't decided yet." I set them on the nightstand and sit on the edge of the bed.
"Give me those lips." She wets hers, but I'm already leaning in to take them. The way she ghosts her fingertips along my jaw as I kiss her never fails to make my skin tingle all over.
"How were your flights?" she asks, pulling back just enough to put a breath between us.
I used to answer that question with something like "Long and lonely without you," but my fear and impending grief would only steal her happiness. And we have so little time left I don't let myself look forward. I don't let myself feel anything outside of this moment. "Smooth sailing. And Felix said to tell you hi."
She draws in a long breath and releases it with a smile. "Mmm … that's good stuff. Are you going to grab your guitar and play me a song?"
"I'm going to crawl in bed with you." I pull back the covers.
We lie next to each other, spooned like one person instead of two. She's warm, and her chest rises and falls in time with mine.
"Lisa?"
"Hmm?" My lips press to her head.
"You know how you always say I'm too generous?"
"Uh-huh."
"When I die …" She says it so matter-of-factly it sucks all the oxygen from the room. "Will you do something extraordinary for someone else? Someone who needs it? Will you do it and think of me?"
I don't want to talk about this.
"Because I don't want you to ever question life or your purpose in it after I'm gone. So go big. Change a life. Make it your purpose."
"And how will I know what that is?"
She shrugs, hugging my arms to her waist. I feel the sharp bones covered in loose skin, magnifying how much of her I've already lost. "You'll know. It will be a feeling. Or you'll see a sign."
I grin despite the pain in my chest, despite the way it feels like she's melting away in my arms—sand in an hourglass. In a blink, I will be hollow, empty, and out of time. "You and your signs."
"Signs are everywhere. And it's not that people don't see them; they just don't want to acknowledge them. I said yes to our first date because that day we were leaving the rainy terminal, you held your jacket over my head to keep me dry. When I was a young girl, my mom told me to never settle for someone who is anything less than a complete gentleman."
With a laugh, I kiss her head again. "I was just trying to get into your pants."
She laughs so hard it brings tears to my eyes. If I can't hear her laugh, then I might as well be deaf.
If I can't hold her, then why do I need arms?
The thought of life without her cripples me in ways I can't even articulate. And that's why she knows I will question life and my entire existence when she's gone.
"I found you," she whispers as if she can hear my thoughts. "When Tara died, I found you. And nobody could have told me that before she died. The idea of sharing my heart with another in that way was unimaginable. But … I found you. I've told you so many times, we have more than one soulmate."
Nope. I don't buy her soulmate theory. I'm not finding anyone else. But like so many other things, I don't tell her that. It gives her a sense of peace to feel that I might find love again. And I will offer her anything—say anything—to ease her mind and grant her a feeling of peace. "Signs everywhere. Change a life. Go big. And find love again. Got it," I say.
If she turns around, she'll see all the tears streaming down my face. I hope she stays still and doesn't feel my heart in my throat, barely beating and completely suffocating me with grief.
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On Tuesday, Rosé insists on a shower, makeup, and a silk scarf.
"Why the need to do all this for the girl who cleans our house?" I bend down and kiss her neck as she eyes me in her vanity mirror.
She caps her lip gloss and takes one more look at her reflection as I pull on a T-shirt and ruffle my wet hair.
"Her name is Jennie, not the girl, and I like chatting with her. Did you know she has a textile design degree, but her love is photography?"
"Yes, I read her résumé. However, I wasn't aware that she has a love of photography. I'm not surprised that someone with a fine arts degree is cleaning houses. I bet cleaning houses pays better." I wink at her reflection.
Rosé gives me her best stink eye, but she knows I'm right. "Anyway … I don't like to scare her by looking like death warmed over, and I see the worry in her eyes when I'm not looking so great. She's young. She needs to focus on life—being stylishly dressed with great hair and endless possibilities."
"There's more to life than hair and clothes. And you don't care what your sister thinks."
"Alice shaved my head, and before that, she held my patchy hair back when I vomited on the days you were working. I think it's a bit late to save her from my worst side. Besides, she can't quit being my sister. If I scare Jen, she might quit and find a job where death doesn't loom all around her."
The doorbell rings, prompting Rosé to stand slowly. Each day renders her a little weaker.
"I'll get it," I say.
"I'll come with you."
I roll my eyes but offer her my arm just the same. She blows me a kiss and loops her arm around mine. Rosé waves to Jennie through the glass door when we turn the corner.
"Look at her gingham romper! She's just the cutest."
Again, I roll my eyes, even though I can't help but grin at my wife's excitement. I imagine she was a lot like Jennie at twenty-three.
"Good morning. Have you had breakfast?" Rosé asks the second I open the door for Jennie.
"Um …" Jennie narrows her eyes into tiny slits of blue. "Yeah, sort of. Why?" She steps inside and removes her sandals, curling her toes painted in flaking pink polish. Without hesitation, she heads straight to the bathroom to wash her hands like she's diligently done for the past month, leaving behind a scent I can't distinguish. Amaretto and maybe cherries, like a pastry.
"Lisa is making eggs Benedict. Would you like some as well?" My wife follows Jennie to the half bath.
"I should get started cleaning." Jennie dries her hands and turns toward the door and my eager wife, who has befriended our maid in a very unexpected way.
"You don't need to vacuum the spare bedrooms." Chaeng flicks her wrist as if the notion of our maid cleaning what we pay her to clean is absurd.
Jennie's gaze jumps to mine as I hover behind Rosé. She curls her hair behind her ears, a few strands falling back into her face as she digs something from her pocket.
Lipstick. Maybe lip gloss. As soon as she uncaps it, I recognize the scent—cherry and amaretto.
I didn't know I was making eggs Benedict this morning, but I will. I'll make her anything.
Do anything.
Go anywhere.
Be anyone.
I love her beyond words. So I clear my throat and smile. "Jennie, you should have eggs Benedict with us, and if you don't have time to vacuum the bedrooms, so be it."
I'll do it later because it's going to get done one way or another. I thought we hired a maid to clean and allow me more time to spend with Rosé on my days off. Apparently not. If she wants to have breakfast with the girl in cute clothes … if that makes her smile, then that's my purpose this morning.
"Sounds yummy. Thanks. I'll start on the bathrooms."
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When breakfast is ready, I head to the jungle to get Rosé, but her chair holds nothing but a half-folded quilt. I search the patio before heading back inside, lured by the sound of giggling. Rosé's perched on her padded vanity stool with Jennie on the floor at her feet. She's braiding Jennie's stick straight hair.
Has Jennie cleaned anything yet? Lifted a finger to earn so much as a nickel of pay? I'm conflicted at the moment. This hiring-a-maid thing has taken a direction I didn't see coming.
"Jen has the best hair. Don't you think, Lisa? Of course, everyone has better hair than I have at the moment."
I fear my wife looks at Jennie and sees everything she used to be and will never be again.
The smile falls from Jennie's face when she sees me. Her lips curl inward like she can eat it before I see it. I'll likely be cleaning our bathroom later too. Probably the whole house.
"Breakfast is ready." The best I can do is offer Jennie a toothy grin, the kind where my tongue bleeds from biting it so hard. But I'd rather die than say something that wipes that beautiful grin from my wife's face. And Jennie seems to be the reason for it, so … what's I am to do?
"Hold this, Lisa." Rosé nods to the end of the braid in her hand. "I need to grab a hair tie from my drawer if I still have any. I might have given up on ever needing them." She laughs softly like it's no big deal, again making subtle references to her dance with death that inches closer each day.
I take the end of the braid as Jennie continues to bite her lips together, her whole body stiff like she's holding her breath. Caught by the boss … not working. Will she charge me for cleaning the whole house? I shouldn't make her squirm, but I find it slightly satisfying. A reprieve from the heavy stuff.
"Thanks, sweets." Rosé takes the braid from me and wraps the tie around it. "Did you know that Jen's boyfriend manages the fitness club we used to belong to? I remember him. JK? All the tattoos? Do you remember, Lisa?"
I nod several times. "Yeah, I remember him, but no, I didn't know he's her boyfriend. Probably because I let her do her job instead of playing twenty questions with her." My smile escalates to capacity, hiding my sarcasm. Or maybe it's jealousy. Am I jealous that Jennie is the one that's brought Rosé to life today? I might be on the verge of growing more my hair if Rosé finds such joy in braiding.
Jennie springs to her feet and helps Rosé up before I get the chance to do it.
"Stop being such a spoilsport, Lisa. Life is too short to worry about a bit of dust or a few water stains on the shower door." Rosé playfully narrows her eyes at me.
I love this woman so much. That's why I keep smiling despite my thoughts. Sorry. My bad. I just assumed that's why we hired her. Again, I was so very wrong.
While the two women get cozy in the nook by the window overlooking rows of garden beds, I serve them eggs Benedict and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Jennie tracks my every move. I'm not sure if I make her nervous or if she's never seen someone make eggs Benedict. Rosé winks at me when I hand her a cup full of vitamins, her pain meds, and a tall glass of filtered water to go with them.
As if she can read Jennie's mind, she pats the empty seat between them, beckoning me to sit. "Lisa has always been a good cook, but she took it to the next level when I was diagnosed with cancer the first time."
"It's good. Really good," Jennie mumbles over a mouthful of food.
My wife smiles and takes my hand, bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. "She is the best. I'm a lucky and loved woman."
Matching her smile, I swallow more emotion brought about by her tiny verbal reminders that things are coming to an end for us.
"Who has the green thumb?" Jennie nods out the window to the rows of raised flowerbeds and vegetable gardens.
"Rosé. The jungle is all her. The garden. Everything that has life … it's her."
While addressing Jennie's question, I don't miss Rosé flinching at my words. We're good at tiptoeing around reality while leaking our emotions into benign comments. She is truly the person in this house that gives it and everything else life. I don't know what I will look like without her. Will I even see my own reflection in the mirror? Or will I feel so hollowed out that I'm nothing but a ghost of the woman I am now? An empty jar with tiny cracks and a lost lid. Useless.
"Lisa is a good student. There is nothing she won't do or try to do. She's spent hours reading botany books so she can take care of my plants on my bad days. She watched YouTube videos to learn how to give me a perfect pedicure. When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I swear she was on her way to earning a medical degree so she could have intelligent conversations with the doctors about my treatment."
I know it's not her intention, but I hate when she makes me sound like a saint. I'm far from it, just an ordinary girl who loves her wife. It's what my dad has always been to my mom.
"So … you and JK … is it serious?" Rosé makes a quick change of subject. I love her for that. "Is marriage in your future?"
I'm not into girl talk, but my wife is addicted to love stories, romance, and gossip. When she and her sister, Alice, discuss their favorite reality TV shows, that's my cue to get out of the house.
"I hope not." Jennie stares at her plate while relinquishing a nervous laugh.
"Oh, Jen … don't tell me you're wasting time with a guy who isn't worthy of you."
I can't shovel my breakfast down fast enough and get out of here.
"Not every guy is a Lalisa." Jennie's lips pull into a sheepish grin as her eyes turn to me for all of two seconds.
Great. She, too, thinks I'm better than I am when I'm just good at hiding my flaws. My biggest one is loving too hard and losing a sense of control and a grip on reality. I want my love to be some magical solution to everything, but it's not.
"True." Rosé rubs her foot against my calf. "All the more reason to weed out the ones who are not up to par. I don't know JK that well, but he's always seemed nice."
"JK is nice," Jennie says, but there's little enthusiasm behind her words. "And honestly, it might be me. I might not be worthy of him. He's focused on where he's at right now and where he wants to go in the future. He's chasing his dreams, and I'm still just dreaming without direction. And I'm fine with that. It just makes us feel incompatible most of the time. However, I do like him, and whatever we have seems to work for now. So why walk away if neither one of us has anything better at the moment? We're … useful to each other right now." Jennie drops her gaze to her plate again as she moves her food around with her fork, lips twisted as if she's figuring something out.
"Useful." Rosé laughs. "Fair enough. Just promise me you'll never settle when it comes to love."
Jennie nods slowly, but she doesn't look at us.
"Maybe you'll find a younger man like I did."
I smirk, standing with my empty plate.
Jennie grins, her gaze ping-ponging between us. "Maybe. Thank you so much for breakfast. It was too generous … really." She carries her dishes to the sink and rinses them off. "I better get to work."
I take Jennie's dishes and load them into the dishwasher. "You're welcome."
She leans down as I'm bent over the open door. "Don't worry. I'm going to vacuum everything … thoroughly."
Amusement hijacks my twisted lips, and I lift my gaze to meet hers. Something changes between us, and I can't find the right words because this shift throws me off-kilter. She can read my mind like my wife can. Great. Two women reading my mind. Busting my balls. I'm doomed.
As soon as she disappears down the hallway, I saunter toward Rosé, her full glass of orange juice, and nearly untouched eggs Benedict. "How are you going to take your pills without food in your stomach?" I say softly as I pull my chair closer to hers.
"She's beautiful. Isn't she?"
"What?" Did I really hear her correctly?
"Jen. She's beautiful … and refreshing." Rosé's knee playfully nudges mine.
"Should I be worried? Are you going to leave me for the maid?"
My wife giggles and shakes her head. "No, but maybe you should leave me for the maid. Her breasts are delightfully perky."
"Fuck you," I whisper with a manufactured smile. I'm not mad, but that hurt. She knows I don't care about perky tits, and she knows I love her with every fiber of my soul.
"I wish you would. I wish you would fuck me, and if not me … maybe someone like Jen."
"Jesus, Rosé …" I run my hands through my hair. "Where the hell is this coming from? Just…" my hands drop to her lap "…take your pills."
"Maybe I don't need the pills."
I frown, scooping up a bite of food and holding it at her mouth. "Maybe you do."
She pleads with desperate eyes as I maintain my challenging expression for several seconds. With a sigh, she succumbs to my request by opening her mouth barely enough to fit the food into it. Chewing in slow motion, her beautiful face sours into a painful grimace. She's not hungry, and it's all she can do to swallow it, no matter how much she used to love my eggs Benedict. Days have passed since she's taken more than one or two bites of her meals. And if I force her to down the pills with so little food, she'll throw them up.
"Babe … if you don't eat …" I say the words slowly, just above a whisper.
"I'm tired." She rests her hand on my cheek and tilts her head to the side, giving me that loving smile that I can't refuse. She can get me to do anything with this one look.
"Want me to take a nap with you?"
She nods. "Yeah, that would be perfect."
I have a million things to do around the house: furnace filter to change, leaks to fix, a garage to clean, and grass to mow. But all those things will be here later. They are not going anywhere.
The only thing these hands and arms need to do right now are hold my wife.
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