I see the surprise that flashes across Ida Sue’s face. Maggie hasn’t shown her feelings and public affection is non-existent and has been since we lost Brylee. It occurs to me after watching Ida Sue, that she hasn’t shown them with her family, either.
“I love you, too, Magnolia,” Ida Sue whispers, taking the moment to hug her daughter. She looks at me and I can see tears glowing in her eyes. We share a silent conversation between us. I don’t know what Ida Sue hears in her head as we stare at each other, but all I can hear is myself saying, ‘Maggie’s back and I won’t let her slip away again’.
And I won’t.
34
Maggie
“How you doing, Maggie May?” Bryant asks for like the third time.
I guess his constant questioning and checking on me should be annoying, but it’s not. It’s strangely reassuring. He hasn’t let go of my hand either, which is nice. As if to prove that, I squeeze his much larger hand and do my best to muster a smile.
“I’m a basket case,” I admit. “But I’ll be okay. We’ll face this together, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“I mean, people get diagnosed with breast cancer every day. It’s not a death sentence.”
“It’s not, and honey, don’t forget, you’re not even sure you have it,” I remind her.
“I know, but I’ve got to be honest with you, Bry. Fate or whatever doesn’t like me much. Seems like everything good that comes my way, fate steps in to bring something equally not good.”
“Not this time. I’m positive. If you’re not, just hold onto me and I’ll help pull you through to the other side. Deal?” he asks, the sweetest look on his face.
I move my hand up to gently brush the side of his face that doesn’t have the outbreak—though to be fair, that has shrunk even more since leaving Mason.
“What did I ever do to deserve you in my life, Bryant Matthews,” I ask him, the love I feel for him swelling so high that it feels like a tidal wave of emotion.
“I was a shit husband, so the fact that you can ask me that with everything we’ve been through, Maggie, means everything to me.”
“We’re going to do this, aren’t we? For real this time?” I ask, sounding lame, but still hardly able to wrap my mind around the fact that after all this time, Bryant and I are going to be together like a normal couple.
“We really are,” he says, leaning in deeper to kiss me.
“I might suck at being normal, Bry,” I warn him.
“Don’t tell your mother because she wouldn’t believe me, but you’re really good when you suck.”
His response jars a surprised laugh out of me. I wouldn’t have thought smiling in the middle of the oncologist’s office was possible, and yet, Bryant somehow managed it.
When my regular doctor first set me up with an oncologist, I was scared to death. I thought a routine mammogram was nothing. She said normally she would just redo the test, but with my family history and genetic markers, she wanted me to see the best. I should be grateful, but there’s a part of me that wishes I could have just stayed with her.
I sure never thought I’d be sitting here laughing and actually looking forward to my future.
But I am.
No matter what comes next, I’ll be okay because I have Bryant with me.
“I’m so sorry for the wait, Ms. Matthews. I’ve been conferring with my radiologist on your latest results. I wanted to make sure I had everything together for our meeting. I see you’ve brought someone with you today.”
“Uh yes,” I answer, my nerves pushing the earlier determination aside. “This is—”
“I’m her husband, Bryant. It’s good to meet you, Dr. Hall. Maggie tells me you come highly recommended.”
“Thank you. I don’t know about that, but I appreciate your wife’s faith in me. Normally, I don’t see a patient until after her test results are made conclusive, but Dr. Christopher explained that Ms. Matthews has some genetic markers that make her predisposed to breast cancer. So, I agreed to step in.”
God, I hate that word.
I feel Bryant’s eyes on me, but I keep my attention on Dr. Hall. Bryant squeezes my hand reassuringly, and I return the gesture wondering if he can feel how bad I’m shaking.
“I’m going to assume it’s okay to talk frankly in front of your husband, Ms. Matthews,” Dr. Hall says, and that’s when I get the nerve up to look at Bryant’s beautiful face. He’s staring at me and I smile, pushing away my fear.
“Yes, please do. Bryant will be with me every step of the way. He needs to hear what we’ll be fighting,” I murmur.
I see the relief that moves over his face and maybe it’s because tears are stinging my eyes, but I think I see moisture in his.
“I love you,” he mouths. I’ve never felt surer of anything in my life and suddenly, I feel like I’m surrounded by sunshine.
“Well, then I want to tell you that what I have for you today is good news.”
“It is?” Bryant says before I even get a chance.
“It is. Our second mammogram was much clearer. You have some fibroid issues, and Dr. Christopher will be able to tell you how to treat those and steps you need to take. I am going to suggest that you keep self-exams constant and that you never miss a scheduled mammogram.”
“I can do that,” I respond, relief pouring over me.
“I’m sure you can. I’m so happy for you.” She stands, and I do the same, although my legs feel like jelly.
As we say our goodbyes and Bryant and I walk out of the office, my heart is running away with me. I was so convinced that it would be bad news. I can barely believe the outcome. When we make it out into the hall, Bryant picks me up and spins me around, letting out a shout that is full of relief and joy. I hold on and laugh with him right before I capture his face in my hands and kiss him with everything I am—and everything I am is wrapped up in everything that is Bryant Matthews.
It always will be.
35
Bryant
Two Months Later
“Love you, Terry,” Maggie whispers, kissing his cheek as she pulls the cover up to his shoulders. She carefully avoids Fifi who sleeps on Terry’s pillow. That cat loves him. She’s still not crazy about Maggie, but they’ve called a truce with each other that seems to work.
“Love you, too,” he says and then lifts his gaze up. “Love you, Dad,” he adds, and I smile. I didn’t realize he even knew I was standing there. I look at Maggie and him. Maggie’s sitting on his bed next to him, the light from the bedside table showing me that the circles under her eyes are lightening. She’s not let go of all of her guilt, but she goes to therapy once a week and I can see a difference. We’ve even started going as a couple to one of those sessions each month. It’s painful, it’s hard and we’re both dealing with different types of guilt. She has hers that is completely misplaced and not true and then there’s mine for not being a better husband, for not helping, and not being there. We’re going to work it out, though. I believe that completely.