Chapter 15

Somewhere along the way we sunk into this comfortable, domestic routine. We kiss, clean, fight, cook and f**k, together, just like any married couple would and sometimes I have to remind myself I’m not Olivia’s husband. I’m not Olivia’s anything.  

It’s not like we made a conscious decision to combine our finances, though, it’s more like we both had a silent understanding of the needs of the household and fulfilled them whenever we had the means. On a bad day sometimes I paid the electric bill while Olivia slept off unconquerable drowsiness. One month she crumpled into a ball in the middle of dinner and whimpered that she forgot to pay the rent. “It’s okay, I took care of it.” She stared at me, “Oh, thank you.”

But even between the two of us it was hard. Cancer isn’t cheep. Things were piling up and pretty soon we were backed into a corner and there was only one thing left I could do, short of selling my blood. Olivia protested more than I did.

“No, absolutely not. It’s not worth it.” 

But I just told her it was the only way, and in a half hour I was standing on David’s doorstep.

Maria opens the door, and smiles. “Jimmy, what a pleasant surprise!” She opens the door a little wider, “And you’re wearing the shirt we got you!” 

I fake a quick smile, “Hi, Maria--”

“How are things?” She asks, suddenly grave. 

“Uhh, things are alright. . .” She nods and her eyes are full of pity, “Is uh, is David around?”

“Yea, do you want me to get him?” 

“If you would, yea.” 

She goes into the other room, leaving me alone with Katherine, who is in a pen on the other side of their spacious living room, staring at me. I bury my hands in the pockets of my pants. The itchy collar of the shirt that sat in the back of my closet until a half hour ago when I put it on to come here is soaking up the sweat accumulating on the back of my neck. Katherine begins to whimper after a moment, then cry. I stand, still like a marble pillar, holding my breath, praying that she will stop. 

After an excruciatingly long time my brother enters the room, followed by Maria, who scoops up Katherine and soothes her with bouncing and shushing. My brother wears a white collared shirt and a pair of pressed grey slacks. His sleeves are rolled back to reveal his hairy forearms and a thick, shiny wristwatch. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, and in one hand he holds an after work cocktail, which lingers on his breath. 

“Jimmy, what a surprise.” The glimmer in his eye makes me want to punch him, but instead I look at the floor. Maria caries baby Katherine into the other room, so I swallow twice and begin my plea. 

David offers me a drink, but I politely refuse. “Oh right, your condition. Sorry. We have. . . Orange juice, if that would be better.” He sneers, almost imperceptibly behind the facade of good-natured hospitality. 

Every nerve in my body is pressing me to flee, but I dig my heals in. “I’m really not thirsty, thank you.”

“If you say so.” He takes of sip of the whiskey in his hand before continuing, “So what brings you to my neck of the woods, Jimbo?” 

I am buried beneath a mountain of inability, hot and moist and heavy. I search for the words, but my mouth is dry and empty. “I uhm,” The words pile up in the back of my mouth and tumble out in the wrong order. “You know, uh, Olivia is getting to the point where she can’t go to work anymore.” He raises his eyebrows at me above the rim of his glass. “And, uh, I just got a promotion but I can’t go in as often as I need to.”

“Jimmy, get to the point.”

“I need $4000 for her treatment. I don’t know where else to go.” I’m dizzy, this hurts. 

David clears his throat. “Jimmy. . . You just met this girl.”

I feel like I’ve been crushed flat. I’m filled with panic, but willing myself not to cry. Maria appears at David’s elbow and leads him away for a moment. I breath slow and careful, in through my nose, out through my mouth. Vaguely I wonder about the intense conversation Maria and David are having, but they keep their voices low and I can’t catch their words. Suddenly Maria puts Katherine back in her pen, turns and walks toward me. She opens her purse and pulls out her checkbook, but David grabs her arm. I watch his chest heave with a sigh as he retrieves his own checkbook, scribbles a check for $4050, and puts it in my hand, saying “Here. Get yourself a decent pair of shoes too.” 

I step back, clutching the check, wipe tears out of the corner of my eyes because I can’t hold them back anymore. I did it, I actually did it. I don’t even feel Maria hug me, or hear the half-joking “now get the f**k out of my house.” that David spit after me.