The Fifth Stage Part 34

"Don't be silly. You're not dying. Dr. Powell is so old he can't read an X-ray. First thing tomorrow, we'll go to someone who knows what he's doing and get this thing cleared up."

"I've been to three doctors, and they all say the same thing.

Depending on how fast it grows, I could have up to a year. Chemo might help slow it down, but it would buy me a few months at best."

"Bulls.h.i.t. You can't trust the quacks around here. We'll go to Duke or Vanderbilt. Those people know what they're doing. Yeah, that's what we'll do. We'll drive over to North Carolina tomorrow and see the doctors at Duke. They'll get this cleared up, you'll see. It's all a big mistake, probably a glitch in the machinery. They have much better equipment at Duke, too."

A light rain started to fall, and Lora switched on the windshield wipers. "The best doctor at Duke has already reviewed my case and agrees with the prognosis."

"The people at Duke are idiots! We need to go to Vanderbilt. Yeah, that's it. We'll drive down to Nashville, and after they tell us everything's okay, we'll take in the Grand Ole Opry. That'll be fun, won't it? Maybe we'll see somebody famous."

I looked out the window. We were headed into the industrial part of town, an area dominated by dirty two- and three-story buildings and smokestacks that belched who knew what into the sky. The light rain had lifted a gummy residue from the street, and pa.s.sing cars threw it against the windshield in tiny, smearing specks.

Lora's voice was low, resigned. "I'm not going to take chemo. I don't want to linger on, be a burden to you."

I laughed and sang, "She ain't heavy. She's my lover." The situation was ridiculous, absurd. Lora was thirty-six years old, for G.o.d's sake. She had another fifty years in her.

She smiled, then frowned. "The pain isn't bad yet, but it will be.

Dr. Powell said he'd give me a prescription for morphine when the time comes. If that doesn't work, he's got stronger options."

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Lora kept talking, but I didn't hear. I just gazed at her, scanning the line of her profile. I used to tell her that she looked like Sophia Loren, but she really didn't. Lora's beauty was softer, more delicate.

I concentrated on her lips, those full, kissable lips that took me to ecstasy for the first time so many years before and could still lead me there over and over again.

Lora took my hand and interlocked our fingers. "Claire? Are you listening? Claire, snap out of it."

Somehow I managed to face her. Those eyes. G.o.d, those eyes. And that smile, now turned into a worried frown. I squeezed her hand. "I love you."

She was still looking at me, through me like she always could. She knew what I couldn't say, understood the feelings inside me that went beyond expression. Lora was the only one who'd ever known me, the real me, the scared kid who had fallen in love with her best friend on a rainy afternoon in October. All that love couldn't just vanish, not after all we'd shared, not after all we'd discovered together. It certainly couldn't be destroyed by something no bigger than a grape. It just couldn't.

Lora smiled at me. "I wouldn't change a thing, baby. You've made my life worth living."

I smiled back.

Then I cried.

Lora lived for seven months and sixteen days.

I died right then and there.

CHAPTER 42.

"Lora didn't leave me. She's dead."

I've never said the words out loud before, and they hang in the air, each letter a dagger that stabs at my eyes. I blink back tears.

Here I am, sitting at Rebecca's kitchen table, telling her my sob story, while my lover is lying under six feet of hard-packed earth in a grave I haven't visited since the funeral. The funeral. What a joke. Mrs.

Tyler wouldn't look at me. Can't blame her, I couldn't look in the mirror for weeks. If I had, I would have seen a pitiful sh.e.l.l of a woman with no more concern for her appearance than a bag lady. I probably sounded like one of those poor souls who roam the streets, talking to no one, laughing at nothing, crying at everything.

Rebecca sits across from me, arms folded, shoulders hunched. She dries her eyes. "I don't know what to say. I had no idea."

"I've never told anyone how I cut my hand, not even Fly or Elizabeth. As far as they know, I was cleaning the mirror when it broke.

I never meant to tell you, but then I never meant to... anyway, you have a right to know."

"Why didn't you tell anyone the truth?"

"What was I going to tell them? That Lora was dying and she tried to protect me from it, but I went nuts and accused her of cheating on me? Some partner I turned out to be, huh?"

"You're being way too hard on yourself. You knew that Lora was hiding something, and cheating was the only thing that made sense at the time."

I take a napkin from the sunflower dispenser and mop my forehead.

"She never talked about the day I cut my hand. She didn't bring it up once."

Rebecca sits quietly for a moment, then takes my hand. "Claire, you made a mistake, but it doesn't justify beating yourself up for the rest of your life."

"It's not just the mistrust. I wasted so much time trying to prove that I could give Lora as much as anyone could. I said I was doing it for 223 224.

her, but that's not true. It was all to make me feel better about myself.

My time was what Lora wanted. I should've been with her, taking her on those vacations she always dreamed about. I should've been there." I drop my head. "I begged her to forgive me, but she said there was nothing to forgive."

Rebecca touches my hand. "She was right. You did what you thought was best at the time."

"I'll never be convinced of that. She was the love of my life, and when she told me what she needed, I didn't listen. And in the end, I didn't trust her."

"This sounds corny, but maybe you need to look at the other side.

You had something very special, something most people never find."

"I know I should be glad for the time we had, but I can't help feeling cheated."

"You were cheated."

"It's a moot point. I just wanted you to know."

She gives my hand an easy squeeze. "I wish you had told me sooner. I might have done things differently."

"You'd have pitied me, and I don't want that." I try to clear my throat, but the lump won't leave. "You see, Rebecca, when we were together, you weren't with me out of pity. I felt like you really wanted to be with me."

"I wouldn't have pitied you. Maybe I would have understood a little better what you've gone through. But now I know, and it doesn't change how I feel about you. I don't want to replace Lora, I never did.

But I was hoping maybe there would be a s.p.a.ce in your heart for me, too." She smiles. "I won't take up much room."

"That's the thing, Rebecca. You're the kind of woman who deserves a whole heart, all the s.p.a.ce there is, and I don't have it to give.

I tried to fool myself into believing this could be a casual thing, but it can't. I do care for you, and I want to love you, but there will never be anyone for me but Lora."

"What would Lora say about that? Would she want you to waste the rest of your life mourning her?"

"I never asked." That much is true. During Lora's last months we talked about a lot of thingslife, death, love, fatebut I never let my future without her come up. Near the end, when she couldn't speak, I did all the talking, making grand promises, vowing my eternal fidelity. She heard me. I know she did.

I get up, and Rebecca follows me to the door. We stand in awkward silence for a second, then I say, "Come here."

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Our embrace is tentative at first, but we soon relax and give each other a real hug. Her spicy perfume drifts into me, taking me back to my bedroom on Sat.u.r.day night when her thighs closed around my ears, leaving me deaf and blind in the darkness, only her essence stimulating my senses. Rebecca is as overwhelming now as she was that night. I long to kiss her, but it wouldn't be right.

She puts her lips close to my ear. "If you want to call me, you can, okay?"

I nod, and as we part, she touches my cheek. I open the door and glance back. She's smiling.

A strange feeling creeps out of my subconscious. This is over, right? I'm going home, back to the way things were before Rebecca.

Jitterbug and me. Elizabeth or Tonya over most every night, ragging me about one thing or another. Reggie worrying about sales, and Mary leaving the coffeepot empty.

That's my life, right?

I slip my hand under the faucet to check the temperature. Hot as h.e.l.lperfect. I shrug out of my robe and drop it to the floor. Steam bathes my skin as I shut off the tap and ease into the tub. Jitterbug sniffs my robe and shoots me a c.o.c.keyed glance before curling up on the bathmat.

Ever since I left Rebecca, something's been bothering me. A tiny mosquito darts around my head, barely in my field of vision. But when I turn to get a good look, it's gone.

I reach for my scotch and find it by the tub. One long pull, and the ice b.u.mps against my lips. Four drinks and a hot bath. I'm finally warm inside and out.

I lean back and cover my eyes with a damp washcloth. The scotch is kicking in, and I start drifting away, flying to a place where nothing hurts and no one leaves.

"What the h.e.l.l is your problem?"

I s.n.a.t.c.h the cloth from my eyes. Lora is in the tub with me. Her hair is in a loose bun with stray tendrils dangling around her bare shoulders.

She's frowning.

"What are you doing here?" I'm strangely unfazed by the fact that she's been dead for three years.

"I thought it was time I straightened your a.s.s out." She grins and blows bubbles toward me.

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"Okay, if you say so." I watch her expression go from playful to serious.

"Why did you leave her?" Lora asks.

"Who?"

"Rebecca."

"How do you know about her?"

"I know everything. It's one of the perks of being deceased." Lora glances at Jitterbug. "G.o.d, she's grown."

I look at Lora, watch the way her lips curl around her words and the way her eyes wander over me. It's almost like she's really here. But I'm dreaming, right? It's one of those trite conversations we've had dozens of times since her death. My reply is old hat, the same thing I've been telling myself and everyone else. "Rebecca isn't you, Lora. You're the only person I'll ever love."

"You are so naive." She takes a long look around the room. This is not one of those shadowy hallucinations where she is a smoky apparition skulking in the fringes of my sedated brain. This is Lora, clear as day, being her real self, and knowing me down to the bone.

"Loyal, that's what I am." I try to sit up but can't. Even my arms are useless now.

She smiles. "You want to be with her."

"Do not."

"Liar."

I huff out a long breath and look away. Jitterbug is still lying on the bathmat, snoring like a moose, a calming rea.s.surance that this isn't real.

"I won't cheat on you."

"It's not cheating, hotshot. I'm dead, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I remember all right."

She shakes her head and another strand of dark hair escapes from the bun. Lora's never been like this before. In all my other dreams, she cursed me and blamed me for doubting her. I wonder how long it will take for this dream to degenerate into a nightmare.

"You're good now?" I ask.

"I'm better than good. I'm not suffering, and I still have you."

"Still have me?"

"That's my heaven, Claire. I get to be with you always. I watch you go to work every day, watch you come home at night. I've even seen you with Rebecca."

I blush. "I'm sorry."

"Why? You're happy when you're with her. You don't want to admit it, but it's true."

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