She wasn’t shouting, but it felt like it. Her voice was shrill, cutting into my head like a power saw. Groaning, I rolled away from her and buried my head in the pillows.
“How much?” she demanded, and pulled the sheets away from me.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Not much. Few beers and a couple shots of tequila.”
“You didn’t get home till six— I’m betting you had more than that.”
“Un-uh. Seriously, that was all.”
“Then where the hell were you?”
Well first, honey bun, John, Sherm, and I almost got into a scrap at Murphy’s Place. Then we hatched plans for a bank robbery and took a drive out to York, where we visited the hood. I used the last of our savings to buy two guns, and we almost got our asses killed by the brothers when John decided to prove that he was down with the Rainbow Coalition.
“We went to Murph’s.” That wasn’t a lie. “And then we just drove around. Went out to the lake for a while.” That wasn’t a lie either. “Sherm broke up with this girl he’s been seeing and he was a little depressed.” That was a straight-up, bold-faced lie and she knew it immediately.
“Bullshit, Tommy. Sherm’s a player. He probably just wanted to get into some mischief and dragged you two along.”
I shrugged.
She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head.
“Anything happen at work yesterday?”
I didn’t like the way she was looking at me.
“No,” I hesitated. “Why?”
“I heard the foundry is laying people off. It was on the news this morning. Jenny Orosel told me they’re getting rid of the guys with four to six years of tenure.”
“Yeah, I forgot to tell you about that. It’s pretty fucked up, isn’t it? And the rest of us will get stuck doing twice the work.”
“But don’t you fall into that group? The group getting laid off? You’ve been there five years.”
“No,” I lied. “I was worried about it, but the axe didn’t fall on me. We lucked out, I guess.”
“Tommy?”
“What?”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“Of course not, Michelle. Why?”
“Because Jenny said that you were one of the guys that got laid off. You and John and Sherm.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know where the hell she heard that. We’ve all still got our jobs. We were sweating it, though.”
“I’m worried. Money is already tight. If you get laid off . . .”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of it. Take care of everything.”
“What do you mean?”
Before I could lie to her some more, I belched uncontrollably and grimaced at the taste. Michelle did the same, fanning her nose in disgust.
“God, Tommy, you stink. You stink but I love you.”
“Love you too.” I leaned up to kiss her and she backed away, protesting, which was good, because my head began swimming and I had to fall back onto the mattress before I passed out. She didn’t notice that, but she did notice how pale I was.
“You really do look like shit, babe. Let me feel your head.”
“I’m all right. It’s just a hangover.”
She insisted and I finally gave in. Her hand felt cool and dry against my forehead, and I closed my eyes.
“I think you’ve got a fever.” The worry in her voice had gone up a few notches. “You’re burning up.”
“I’ll be fine. Can you just get me some aspirin and my smokes, and maybe make some coffee?”
“Okay. Why don’t I get you an ice pack too?”
“That’s okay. I’m going to get in the shower in a few minutes. Just need to wake up first.”
She hesitated, caressing my brow, and smiled.
I managed to return the smile, but it felt like my teeth were going to fall out, just like the thing’s in the dream had done. After she was gone, I forced myself out of bed, sitting up slowly and groaning in pain as I put one foot on the floor, then the other. My joints ached and it felt like somebody had kicked me in the ribs. I wanted to go back to sleep, to shut my eyes and forget about everything, just lie there dying in bed. But I couldn’t. For starters, I needed to clean out the trash can before Michelle saw the blood in it— and the other stuff, the black stuff that had come from deeper down inside me. After that, I wanted to make the most of our day. We didn’t have many days left and I wanted to enjoy every one of them.
With a lot of effort, I stepped into a pair of sweats, picked up the can, and stumbled into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and filled the can, then dumped it, watching as little pieces of myself swirled down the drain. After I rinsed it out, I sprayed it with disinfectant. Turning, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and what I saw wasn’t fucking pretty. I hadn’t turned into the thing in the dream, not yet, but Michelle was right. I really did look like shit. I looked old. Not twenty-five but thirty-five. Forty even. The skin on my neck and chin was swollen and puffy, and my eyes were two sunken brown circles. The stubble on my cheeks looked rough and spotty— almost as if the cancer was killing the hair follicles in some places, like somebody had sprayed patches of my face with Michelle’s hair remover. The same thing was happening on my chest. The hair that was left was turning prematurely gray. I followed the silvery trail down to my navel, and noticed just how loose the sweats were around my waist. Michelle had been right. I’d definitely lost weight.
I wasn’t going to be able to hide what was really going on for much longer. Michelle was smart, and soon she’d figure out for herself that this wasn’t just the flu. And when she did, she’d know I’d been lying to her. Then the truth would come out, in all of its ugly glory. I hated myself for lying to her. She wasn’t just the love of my life. She was my best friend, too. I trusted her, and remained faithful to her in a town filled with cheating spouses. I respected her, and she did the same for me. This just wasn’t right, and it hurt me in ways the cancer couldn’t. I showered and shaved, and by the time I finished up, Michelle had my coffee and the first cigarette of the day waiting for me. The combination of the hot water, nicotine, and caffeine took care of most of the aches in my back and sides, and the headache was reduced to a low rumble.
“You look better,” she said, while I sat on the floor with T. J., watching Yu-Gi-Oh. “Want some breakfast?”
“No, I better not. My stomach’s still a little queasy.”
“Okay.”
I tried to concentrate on the cartoon but I couldn’t. A commercial came on for a hair loss cure and I wondered why the hell they were advertising that during the time of day when kids watched television. T. J. stirred next to me.
“Daddy, can we go to the park today?”
“I don’t think we’d better, babe,” Michelle told him. “Daddy’s still not feeling good.”
“I feel better,” I insisted. “That shower helped. It’s just my stomach now. Tell you guys what. Let me have a few more cups of coffee and then we’ll go to the park. Sound like a plan?”
T. J. cheered, then his cartoon came back on and he was completely absorbed. I stood up, walked into the kitchen, and poured myself another cup of coffee. Michelle wrapped her arms around my back and nuzzled my neck. Her breath tickled my skin, and I breathed her in: vanilla-sugar and shampoo. Clean. Healthy. She gave me goose bumps.
“You sure you feel like going out? I can take him by myself. Let you get some sleep . . .”
“No,” I turned, kissing her on the forehead. “Seriously, I’m all right. It’ll do me some good to get out. It’s springtime. Can’t stay cooped up in the trailer watching TV all day. Especially these Japanese cartoons. They all look the same.”
“I love you, Tommy O’Brien.”
“I love you too, babe. I really, really do.”
She pulled back a little and stared into my eyes. Her forehead wrinkled in concern. I wanted to tell her, felt overwhelmed with guilt for not telling her, but I couldn’t.
