K. Bromberg - Slow Burn

“Hi, Ms. Montgomery. This is Dr. Blakely. How are you doing today?”

The forced cheer in her voice causes the hair on my arms to stand on end. “That depends on what you’re going to tell me.” My voice is a mere whisper over the line.

“Well, I’d like you to come in and have a chat with me.”

The saliva leaves my mouth, and my heart thunders in my ears. I’d like to think the sound prevents me from hearing properly, but I know better than that. I know that good news is given over the phone when test results are all clear, and meetings are scheduled when the results are bad. And regardless of how pleasant Dr. Blakely’s tone is, I can hear it in her voice, can hear the same quality to it as when she spoke to Lexi about her prognosis before shipping her off to the reconstruction specialist and the oncologist.

“Can’t you just tell me over the phone?” I ask, hoping against hope.

“I think it would be best if you came in so we could talk.”

And I know. Right now I know, but I’m still reaching.

“I can come in whenever it fits your schedule,” I tell her, thinking if she puts if off a week or two, I just might be wrong, that the results are nothing to worry about. I’m playing mind games with myself, I know, but I don’t care.

“How about tomorrow afternoon? I have some colleagues stopping by in the morning to meet with me in regard to your file, and so I’d like to speak with you after, if that’s okay? Say three o’clock?”

And the mind games are useless now. Tomorrow screams urgent. Tomorrow tells me cancer.

Tomorrow says Fuck you , Haddie.

I force a swallow down my throat, working to find the words I need to respond. “Okay.” I’m surprised she hears me, my voice is barely audible. I drop the phone and sit there, staring at the sky.

I have cancer . She may not have said the word, but she didn’t have to.

My glass slips from my hand and falls to the ground. I watch the lemonade spill onto the grass and then slowly seep into the earth. Disappear. Gone forever.

Ring around a rosie .

I wonder if it’s cold down there—beneath the surface of the dirt—when they bury your body.

A pocket full of posies .

I fixate on the thought. Wonder if Lexi is cold.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down .

I close my eyes, unwilling to accept and not wanting to believe that fate has come knocking on my door. So I shut down, welcome the numbness, the disengagement I know is happening from my complete lack of tears and my inability to play the mind games needed to help me deal with the phone call.

I’ll cope tomorrow. Right now I just want to shut the world out.

Time passes. I hear car doors slam as neighbors come home from work. I hear mothers calling their kids inside for dinner. The night fades and eats up any sign of light until it’s completely smothered. Street lights flicker to life.

And yet I sit here. Not wanting to move. Not caring if I ever do because that means tomorrow is closer, and I don’t want tomorrow to come.

My phone rings and alerts me to texts but it sits on the table where I dropped it, and I don’t have enough energy to pick it up, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.

I’m so cold, despite the warm night air. My soul is chilled, and my thoughts are frozen, obsessed with replaying the doctor’s words over and over in my head.

“Hey.” The voice from behind me startles me, despite my having known somehow he would find me. I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting the onslaught of emotion to come, to overwhelm, to break me down, and yet nothing does. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Feelings, emotions, reactions are so dull, so nonexistent, I should be scared, but I’m not. I wait for the butterflies, for the ache in my heart and the tingle between my thighs at the voice that riles them up, but they’re not there.

Because I feel nothing.

“Your car was in the driveway. I kept calling your cell, and you didn’t answer, but I heard it ringing back here, so I came in through the gate,” he explains, his voice becoming louder as he nears me.

I look straight ahead and murmur incoherently at him as his footsteps continue to grow closer. Once his body is beside mine, it takes everything I have to scrape together some semblance of a smile and force my head to angle up to meet his. “Hey.”

He sees it immediately. I know he can see the emotions warring within me, but he recovers quickly, eyebrows drawn together as he studies me. “Everything okay?” he asks as he lowers himself to the chaise, his hip pushing my legs over so he has room.

Am I okay? Ha. I want to laugh at the question. “Hmm,” I say in response.

He reaches out and cups the side of my face, his thumb rubbing over my cheek in that way that usually makes me melt, but I remain unresponsive in every way. “Everything okay with Maddie?” I nod my head, knowing he’s searching for a reason for my silence. “Did the doctor call? Any news?”

I can hear the concern tingeing the edges of the question, and it’s truth-or-dare time for me: lie to protect him or tell him the truth and test the promises he made at the farm. I teeter on that fine edge of my moral compass, but then my split-second decision is one I think I made the moment I received the call.

“No, not yet. She called to tell me something’s held up at the lab, but in relooking at my scans, she’s not too worried.” The lies roll off my tongue just as easily as the relief they cause makes his posture sag.

I’m going to hell. I just lied to Becks. I’m going to hell, and I deserve it. Every damn lick of fire against my flesh, I deserve.

Then the panic hits me. I shift to place my hands under my thighs so that he can’t see them tremor with the adrenaline coursing through my system. My mind spins in an eddy of fucked-up thoughts, and as each one whips out of the whirlpool and hits my conscience, I feel worse with each passing second.

I should confess, make things right. I know I should, but the words don’t come off my tongue because images of Lexi and Danny and Maddie hop on the eddy, collide with every truth I should reveal, and knock them down.

“Haddie?” I’m brought back to the present when Becks says my name again, and I try to focus on him through the tears that don’t even well, but that burn like hell. Hmpf, like hell—that’s rather fitting and deserving.

“I …” I don’t know where to go with this conversation, which path to take to gain some distance so I can process everything without the pressure of what it will do to everyone else. I think of the heavy knowledge so apparent in Lexi’s lively eyes. Her awareness of what she was leaving behind for us to deal with.

I have three options now: Hurt him so badly that I push him away and gain some distance, fess up to the lie and ask for some space, or beg him to make me feel to see if it’s even possible or if I’m already dead inside.

I stare at him, his blue eyes radiating concern as he grants me patience to figure out the words I need to say. And I’m not ready to talk yet.

I reach out without thought and pull his mouth to mine, desperation emanating off me, causing it to crash into him and take hold. If I’m going to Hell, I might as well get a piece of Heaven first. And fuck yes, this makes me the most selfish woman on the face of the earth, but I can’t make a decision yet, can’t voice my feelings yet, so I give into the greed and take.

Within seconds of our mouths clashing together, between a shocked gasp from Becks and his rush to take what I’m offering, I already have my hands on his zipper and am pulling his thickening cock from his trousers.

“Had—what—wait—are—”

“Shh. No talking, just fucking, okay? It’s day three.” I retrieve the excuse, hoping he’ll just go with it and not question me any further.