PRESENT TENSE
Chapter Thirty-Six

Thursday, July 17, 2003

Rose navigated her car into its usual space across the street from the house and got out. The hot summer sun beat down on her as she crossed the street and headed up the walkway.

Jack was already home, she noticed with a bit of surprise. He usually got home after she did, but his car was in its space in front of the curb. She frowned, hoping nothing was wrong.

The house was cooler than the yard, though it was still warm. The air conditioner had broken the week before, and they hadn’t gotten it fixed yet. Rose slipped quietly through the front door, heading down the hall. She paused at Jack’s room, knocking on the door.

"Jack? Are you in there?" She opened the door and looked inside.

Jack sat up in bed, looking at her drowsily. He was still fully clothed, and, despite the heat, was covered with a heavy blanket and a bedspread.

"You’re home early. Is everything okay?"

He shrugged. "Not really."

"What happened? How long have you been home?"

"I came home around eleven. I had a seizure at work, and Messner told me to go home and come back when I was healthy."

"At least he told you to come back."

"He’d already told me that my job would still be there if I was capable of returning. I won’t be paid for the time I’m gone, but I applied for disability for a short time, so I should be okay."

"How did he know you’d had a seizure?"

"It happened at a staff meeting. I blanked out in front of all my co-workers."

Rose shook her head. "That must have been embarrassing."

"No kidding. Even though my heart didn’t stop, someone tried to give me CPR."

Rose shook her head. "Wonderful."

"At least they tried, even though all I needed was to be left alone. My boss took me aside and excused me from work, and then I went out and slept in the car for an hour before coming home."

"Have you been sleeping all day?"

"Pretty much. I’m tired."

He lay back down, pulling the covers over himself. He was shivering slightly, even in the summer heat, and Rose noticed again how thin he was. He looked almost emaciated, and just didn’t have the resources to keep warm. It must have been eighty-five degrees in the room, but he was still shivering.

"Have you eaten anything today? I noticed you didn’t eat breakfast."

"I tried to eat an apple while I was working this morning, but it didn’t stay down."

Rose wrinkled her nose, looking at him with concern. "Would you like me to fix you something? Some dry toast or something?"

He shook his head. "I haven’t been able to keep down anything solid since yesterday."

"Did you try the ginger?"

"Yes. It doesn’t help. I had some water at noon, though."

"Try to eat something anyway. You need it."

"I can’t have anything for twelve hours before my surgery, and that’s scheduled for six o’clock tomorrow morning."

"I know. I’m driving you over there. But it’s only 5:30 now. Let me fix you some dry toast and some ginger Sprite."

"Some ginger what?"

"Ginger Sprite. It’s Sprite with a teaspoon of ginger added."

"Is this another one of your friend Mari’s concoctions?"

"No. This is my grandmother’s substitute for ginger ale. She likes ginger ale, but she invented this for a party when the store was out of ginger ale and decided she liked it better. She used to give it to me every time I visited her when I was a little girl. I thought it was wonderful."

"Just a little bit, okay? I don’t feel very well."

"You don’t look very good, either. You’ve lost more weight."

"A couple of pounds."

"You’re much too thin." She shook her head. "I hope that surgery works. You’ll starve if you can’t start eating again soon."

"If I don’t have a stroke first."

"Try not to think about that." She kissed him on the forehead. "I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay? Just try to rest." She left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Helga came in as Rose walked around the kitchen, finding the bread, Sprite, and ginger. Helga looked tired, but went down to check on Jack when Rose told her where he was.

Rose sighed tiredly as she put the bread in the toaster and mixed the ginger into the soda. Jack’s illness was taking a toll on all of them. He tried not to be a burden, but he was seriously ill, and the other members of the household were worried about him, Rose more than anyone.

She placed the toast on a small plate and picked up the glass of soda, heading for his room. In contrast to earlier times, when Jack had had trouble sleeping, he now slept fourteen hours a day, getting up to go to work and to try to eat. He tried to participate in the regular activities of the household, but he simply wasn’t strong enough. Most evenings he sprawled out on the couch and slept for most of the evening until Rose would wake him. She had appointed herself his caretaker, something that he no longer objected to, and the strain and the worry were wearing her out. Jack tried to downplay how serious things were, but it had gotten to the point where he could no longer hide it. If the surgery didn’t work, or if something went wrong during it, he would probably die.

"Jack?" Rose knocked on the door, opening it quietly. Helga was sitting beside him, talking in a low voice. She shook her head and stood, heading for the door.

"What were you two talking about?" Rose asked, helping Jack to sit up and giving him the tray.

"She was trying to convince me to go into the hospital early."

"She’s been trying to convince you of that all week." She sat down next to him. "Do you want to go early? I’ll take you over there if you do."

He shook his head. "No. I don’t think a few extra hours will make any difference, and...and I may never come out of there. I don’t want to go there just yet."

Rose nodded, understanding. She thought about the cold, sterile hospital, with its busy, overworked staff, and knew that if there were a possibility that she would die soon, she would not want to spend her last few hours there.

"All right," she told him. "Try to eat this, okay?"

Jack looked at the food before him. He felt nauseous and didn’t want to eat, but at the same time, his starving body craved nourishment. He took a sip of the soda, feeling the ginger soothe his stomach slightly, and nibbled cautiously on the toast.

Rose sat beside him until he was finished. "How do you feel?" she asked him, taking the tray.

He moved slowly, getting out of bed. "I’m just tired right now, is all."

"Maybe you should stay in bed, then."

"No. I’ve had enough of this place for now. I’ll come out there with you."

"It’s probably about time for dinner. Do you want to sit at the table with us?"

"I suppose."

"Do you think you can tolerate the smell of food?"

"I don’t know, but I’m going to try."

"Okay." Rose took the plate to the kitchen, Jack trailing along behind her.

Jack sat with them at the table that evening, fighting off his exhaustion, headache, and nausea, knowing that this could be the last time they would all be together like this. He didn’t eat, but he tried to participate in the conversation, talking about neutral subjects and carefully skirting around anything related to his upcoming surgery.

Later, after spending the rest of the evening dozing on the couch, his head in Rose’s lap, he told the others good night. He and Rose would be leaving for the hospital very early in the morning, and he didn’t know if Tommy or Helga would be awake when they left. He might not see them again, he realized, as he fell into a fitful sleep, his dreams haunted by images of the past.

*****

Rose rolled over restlessly, looking at the clock for the third time in as many minutes. It was past midnight, and, despite her tiredness, she hadn’t been able to fall asleep. She knew that she had to be up at 4:30, but her anxiety over Jack was keeping her from sleeping.

Finally, she decided that trying to rest was useless and got up. Slipping on her robe, she made her way down to the kitchen, deciding to make herself some hot cocoa. That had always helped her fall asleep before.

The house was quiet, so Rose tried not to make too much noise. She was sitting at the table, sipping her drink, when Jack came into the kitchen.

Rose looked up in surprise. "Did I wake you?" she asked, setting the cup aside.

"No." Jack rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I was having trouble sleeping, and I heard someone moving around out here, so I got up."

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to make that much noise."

"You didn’t. I just can’t sleep."

"Me, neither," Rose told him. "I made myself some cocoa, because that usually helps me sleep." She took another sip. "Do you want some?" she asked before she thought about it.

Jack shook his head. "I’m not allowed to drink anything right now."

"That’s right. I forgot." She took another sip, then set the cup aside again. "Maybe you should go back to bed. You need the sleep."

"I’ll be doing plenty of sleeping later."

"Well, as Helga would undoubtedly say, general anesthesia isn’t exactly normal sleep."

"I don’t think I can sleep right now."

Rose stood, setting her cup on the counter. "Why don’t we go outside? That way we can talk and not disturb anyone."

They slipped quietly out the back door, walking in silence to a crooked bench that the previous tenant had built and left behind. Sitting down, Rose snuggled closer to Jack, putting her arms around him.

"I hope everything goes well tomorrow," she told him.

"I do, too. And it’s today, actually."

"Right."

He hugged her. "I can’t believe I tried to kill myself last week. Now, I want to live, and I’m not sure that’s going to happen."

"How is your wrist healing?"

"Not very well. It hasn’t healed much at all."

"You’re in really bad shape."

"I know. That’s what has me so worried about the surgery. I know that it’s dangerous, and that I’m really not healthy enough for it, but I don’t have a choice. If I don’t go through with it, I’ll probably die, but I might die anyway."

In the shadows, Rose couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his tension and knew how nervous he was. The doctor had told him that he had about a seventy-five percent chance of surviving the surgery, but he was so weak, she felt that it might be lower, and she knew that Jack felt the same way. Still, he had faced overwhelming odds before and survived.

Jack reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope. Standing, he gestured to Rose to follow him over to where the safety lights lit up the back porch.

He handed the envelope to her. Rose took it, curious.

"What is this?" she asked him, looking at it. It was sealed, with her name on the outside.

"That...these are my instructions...in case something goes wrong. I...don’t really have any family that I can rely on, and I need someone to make certain decisions, if necessary."

"What decisions? And what does this have to do with me?"

"If things should go wrong...if there is severe brain damage...or something...and I can’t function at all anymore, I need for you to decide when to...to pull the plug."

"Jack—"

He put a hand up, interrupting her. "I don’t want to live for years in a vegetative state like some people have. If there’s no hope that I will get any better, if things are so bad that I can’t live without life support and I can’t make the decision for myself, then I want you to make it."

Rose shook her head vehemently. "No, Jack. No. I can’t make a decision like that. Why did you choose me to decide...to decide..."

"Because after all we’ve been through together, I know that I can trust you, and trust your judgment. You won’t make any rash decisions, and you’ll give it enough time to make sure that things are hopeless. You didn’t give up on me when I was in the coma, and I know that you’ll make the right decision this time, if it comes to that."

Rose raised tear-filled eyes to look at him. "I can’t. I can’t make the decision to kill you."

"If it comes to that, I’ll already be as good as dead." He paused, pulling her into his arms. "Rose, this is very important to me. I can’t live like that. It isn’t really living. I didn’t want it to be this way, but I trust you more than anyone else, and I know that you’ll do the right thing. I wouldn’t have given you these instructions if I didn’t think you could handle it, and I know that you won’t have to make the decision alone. Tommy and Helga will help you, if...if it comes to that."

Rose buried her head in Jack’s shoulder, trying not to cry. "Only if there’s absolutely no hope."

"I wouldn’t want you to make such a decision otherwise." He pulled her closer. "I love you, Rose."

"I love you, too." She sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I always will, no matter what happens. Even...even if something goes wrong, and you...die, or are crippled for life, I’ll still love you, and I’ll be there for you."

"We can never be sure of what the future holds, but...if I get better, I’ll try to make it up to you...for all the trouble I’ve caused you, and the times that I’ve hurt you. If I don’t get better, I don’t want you...mourning...for too long. You’re young, and you have your whole life ahead of you. You’ll find someone else and be happy."

"No, I won’t."

"You will. You’re a strong person, Rose, and you’ll go on with life, if something should happen. I know that you can, and you will. Promise me that you’ll go on."

Slowly, Rose looked up at him, seeing the pleading in his eyes. He didn’t want her to give up if he didn’t make it. "I promise."

He tilted her chin up. "And never let go of that promise."

Rose hugged him tightly. "I’ll never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go."

He pulled her closer as she cried quietly against his shoulder. Slowly, they made their way back into the house, and then, unwilling to be separated just yet, sat together on the couch, still holding each other close.

A few minutes later, Rose realized that Jack had fallen asleep on her shoulder, as he had so many times before, and, unwilling to wake him, she put her head against his and closed her eyes.

Chapter Thirty-Seven
Stories