Sunday, September 28, 2014
The jets from the Jacuzzi splashed around me, easing the pain from my muscles as I stared out at the lake.
To call the last three weeks a whirlwind would be an understatement, but I barely paid it any attention. Life got busy, and the world became interested in me, but the feeling wasn’t mutual. I understood the article about me upset people. I got it. I really did. Death was upsetting. Facing your own mortality was upsetting—and that’s what the article about me forced readers to do. But death is a lot like birth—you’re afraid at first, and then you’re not.
I listened to Malaika’s fears about giving birth. A gigantic baby was growing in that tiny woman, and the only way it was coming out looked less than pleasant. Hell, I was scared for her—or rather, I was scared for her lady bits. But closer to her due date, Malaika changed.
She was ready—more than ready—and suddenly the possibility of hours and hours of painful, lady-bit-destroying labor didn’t sound nearly as bad as having that baby kick her ribs all day, or not being able to find a position to sleep in, or the fact that she kept mismatching her shoes because she couldn’t see them on her feet.
She wanted to hold her baby, no matter what she had to face beforehand. And wasn’t that what death was? A new chapter, or maybe an epilogue…I’m ready to write my epilogue.
I had another seizure that morning—I didn’t know how many I’d had at this point. I stopped counting two weeks ago. Beast had begun to alert me to them now, which was actually really helpful. When he started barking at me out of the blue, I’d go sit down somewhere my head wouldn’t smash against the floor, or a table’s edge, or God knew what else. Every once in a while, the barking was just because he was bored and wanted to fuck with me, but nine times out of ten, he sensed (maybe smelled? I don’t know how it works.) the seizure coming.
“Tessa?” Kyle’s head popped into the bathroom.
I barely glanced up from the bath. “Mmm?”
He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you think you’ll want dinner? What if I made soup—really light?”
I took a deep breath, assessing my nausea level. I didn’t feel like hacking up my guts at the moment, so I nodded. “Yeah, soup sounds good.”
“Thank goodness.” He smiled and leaned over the tub, kissing my forehead.
I reached out to squeeze his hand. “Why ‘thank goodness’?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been worried. You’re barely eating.”
“I’m working on my bikini body,” I teased.
That made him roll his eyes. “I hope fucking not, babe.”
I just grinned, not letting on if I was kidding. I couldn’t wear a bikini now even if I wanted to. I didn’t have the curves to hold it up, and my skin had already begun to cave in on me as the weight and muscle mass dropped off. There wasn’t one particular reason, more like fifteen—food tasted like nothing, it sat in my stomach heavy and unforgiving, nausea was a constant struggle even if I was just having a glass of water, and the list went on and on.
“Are you getting out of the bath soon?” he asked.
“Ish.”
“The soup will be ready when you come down.”
I gave him an appreciative smile before he retreated. Pulling the plug out of the bottom of the tub with my toes, I then dropped it onto the floor of the bath. The water slowly drained from around me, a loud swirling noise filling my ears for several minutes. I sat still and let the water level lower, my skin breaking out in tiny bumps from the chill of the air.
Once it was finally empty, I pulled myself up and sat on the edge before swinging my legs around to the tile floor. Grabbing at my cane, I hobbled to my robe and wrapped it around my body.
When my hands slid through the thick, plush sleeves, I realized my fingers on one hand were tingling. I stared at them, flexing my hand and trying to wiggle them. They moved—slowly—but all I felt was tingling. I grabbed the door knob, but my hand wouldn’t grip it.
I balanced carefully against the bathroom counter and used the hand I’d been holding the cane with to open the door instead. I changed quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed and using one hand to pull on pants and an oversized sweater.
Beast came rushing into the room and rubbed against my legs, but moved out of the way when I stood to head down for dinner, my slowly numbing hand tucked into pocket.
It was almost time. I was almost ready.