The Wave by Kristen Crusoe (ebook reader online txt) 📗

the bed, the pillow, blanket would be next. I couldn’t let that happen. I emptied the box, rearranging the cars in Devon’s order, the way he always did it. I found his little red truck. It was his favorite. I picked it up, tucked it safely in my pocket. I carry it with me always now.’

Clair patted a large black tote bag hanging off the back of her chair.

Jet reached across the table, patting Clair’s hand. Clair’s gaze wandered around the coffee shop, noticing people moving about, not wanting to look at Jet, sensing a conversation was coming she didn’t want to have. She looked at Jet. They easily slipped back into patient, therapist mode. Clair didn’t mind. It comforted her.

‘Clair,’ Jet said, holding her gaze, ‘there is a concept in psychology and grief work called ambiguous grief. It is that grief that has no end, no closure. It abides in us. Clair, this is what you are facing. T.S. Eliot said that what we do not know about a missing loved one becomes all that we know. You are facing this new threat, immediate and real. It might help to bring some ending to the past, not closure. We know that doesn’t exist in real life, but it can be a next step. So, you can focus on your treatment now. This is going to take all you’ve got, energy, willpower, hope.’

Clair took a breath. Smiled at Jet, her eyes looking back over the parking lot.

‘Oh, there’s Adam,’ she said, standing up quickly, jostling the tea and coffee cups on the table. ‘I have to go now, Jet. I appreciate the lesson, or session, whatever this was. But, I’m OK, really.’

‘Clair,’ Jet said, standing up to meet her gaze. ‘Call me, anytime. Don’t do that on your own, OK? Let me help you pack the rest of his things.’

Clair didn’t answer, just waved backwards, as she hurried out the double glass doors. Adam’s car was driving into the lot across the street.

Out of breath when she opened the door, wet from the rain, driven hard by the wind, Clair fell into the front seat.

‘Where were you?’ Adam asked. ‘I thought you were in here,’ he said, pointing to the lobby of the cancer center.

‘I was, but we finished up early. I had a tea with Jet, over in the main building.’

Adam was silent for several moments. The car was running, the heater blasting warm air. Soft jazz playing on the radio, tuned to National Public Radio.

‘Is that wise, Clair?’ he asked, his voice tense.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she answered. ‘Wise? Jet’s a friend now, Adam, not my therapist. I can see her anytime I want.’

‘But she is still a therapist, Clair. She can’t not be a therapist. And she has the ability to get into your head, and mine, and well, I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to spend time with her, now you’re out.’

‘What are you afraid of Adam? That I’ll share too much? That I might actually become whole again? Would you want that? Or do you want to keep me sick, at your mercy?’

It surprised her, how quickly this virgin peace could be shattered, returning them to their former state of adversaries. Her anger came quick and hard.

‘That’s not fair, I only want you to get better. I want us to get better. I want you, Clair, however you come, cancer, crazy, healthy, whole. It doesn’t matter to me. As long as we can be together. We’ll find a way, work this out.’

‘Then don’t worry, Adam,’ Clair reached over, placed her hand on his forearm, resting on the gear shift, feeling herself soften. ‘I’m going to be OK. I can feel it in my bones. And we’re going to be OK too.’

He put the car in drive, glancing over at Clair.

She smiled, her eyes shining with anticipation. Of what, she wasn’t sure. But she felt ready. Maybe it was a fool’s paradise, her new-found optimism, she feared, but she’d take it. Anything was better than the darkness looming inside every open space in her mind, every single moment without intentional thought. Points of light broke through, like the sunlight scattering rainbows across the oil slicks in the parking lot, as the black Mercedes eased forward, toward Highway 101 and home.

Chapter 16

Adam

Clair had been sleeping when Adam looked in. She looked pale and thin, insubstantial. Her bare shoulder had shown above the comforter. He gently pulled the duvet up to cover her. He had been sleeping in the guest room, not wanting to disturb her rest. He smiled, remembering their lovemaking that first day home. It had been sweet, gentle. He was afraid he would hurt her, or dislodge the drains again. But she had kept saying to him, ‘It’s OK, Adam, I’m OK.’ It was the first time they had made love in months, maybe even years, since Devon’s birth. Really connected, in this way. Not just sexual release. No wonder she thought he was fooling around. And he had allowed her to wonder. That had been wrong, he knew. Time for a fresh start, all around. He was feeling better this morning than he had in a long time. Their almost argument yesterday on the drive back from her support group meeting was an early alert for him, showing just how fragile their new-found peace still was. He would nurture it, fan it, amplify it until this new way of being together became the only way. Now, he was eager to get back to work, to see his students, right his world.

He slipped around the room, quietly opening drawers, his closet door, extracting clothes for the day. He could hear the rain pattering on the roof, not a downpour but steady enough to need a raincoat and boots.

‘Are you off then?’ Clair’s voice called from the bed.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,’ he said, walking over to the bed, sitting on the side. She was turned on