“Wes, it’s bonkers. You literally just met this girl and you’re acting like…like you’re married, like she’s the love of your life. I’m not questioning how you feel in this moment, Wes, I’m not, but—”
“You are. And that’s okay. I get it. Shit, I question it myself, Dinah.”
Her gaze is speculative. “Sorry, but I have to ask. She’s not, like, milking this for money or attention, is she?”
“No. I don’t blame you for asking, but it’s not that. We’re doing our best to keep this out of the spotlight. I’m sure it’ll get out eventually and I’ll have to put out a statement, but I’m not thinking about that until I have to.”
She nods. “So, then, next thing to eliminate. Is it just the sex? I mean, I know you said she’s sick, but…I mean—can she? Have sex? I don’t know anything about her medical situation, obviously. But I imagine that’s got to be an element.”
“I’m not confusing physical chemistry for emotional connection, no.” I shrug. “That’s about all I’m willing to say, as I’m not sure what Jolene would be comfortable with me telling you.”
“I understand. But you’re sure, though, right? Because that can be really hard to differentiate.” She wiggles her fingers at her beer, and I hand it to her. “Thanks. I’ve been down that road, myself. Me and Gray. God, it was hot between us. And I thought it was love. I really did. And I think he did, too. But then I went through a really intense creation phase, and he couldn’t handle that part of me. And I realized it was just the sex.”
I frown. “It’s not that, Di. I promise.”
She smirks at me. “You didn’t know I can have sex, did you?”
“Dinah, god, come on.”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “I got lucky. The nerves that got damaged took out my legs, but not the sensation in my hoo-ha. So yeah, bro, I’m a fully functioning woman, in that respect. It was weird for Gray, at first, but he figured it out pretty fast.”
I grimace. “I don’t need to know about your sex life, Di, I really don’t. Although I am glad for you, that you still have that.”
She shrugged. “Oh, I’d have it, one way or another. If I couldn’t use my lady bits for sexy times, I’d have figured out something else.” A grin. “I am good with my hands, after all.”
I fake a gag. “Di, stop. Seriously.”
She waved a hand. “I’m just messing with you. Shit was too tense in here, man.” Her expression sobers. “So, then, I guess the last question I have is should I be worried about you?”
I go back to my food, take my time before I answer. “I don’t know the answer to that one. When it’s good, with her, it’s the most incredible thing I could possibly imagine. Emotionally, physically, everything. She’s smart, she’s musically talented, she’s deep. We can talk for hours, or we can just be quiet together. She’s…she’s the toughest person I’ve ever known, Di. Tied up there with you.”
My sister shakes her head. “I obviously don’t know her, but I have a feeling she’d agree—when you’re faced with something you can’t control, it’s not toughness, really. It’s just…surviving. I got paralyzed. It sucked. I was pissed off at the world for fucking me over, and felt like my life was over and I had nothing, blah blah blah, poor me. Eventually, I realized I could keep wallowing in self-pity, or woman up and deal with it.”
“There is an element of toughness, though, Di. To you, and to her.”
“I think it’s…resiliency. Mental and emotional, and maybe even spiritual, resiliency.” She pauses to eat and drink, then continues. “When people talk about going through things like what I went through, what this Jolene of yours is going through, they’re all like, ‘oh, you’re so strong.’ But really, I’m no stronger than you or anyone else. We just…we don’t have a choice, do we? I didn’t ask to be paralyzed. Jolene didn’t ask to have leukemia. But it happened. It fucking blows. I still have days where I’m angry that I can’t walk. I wake up in the morning and I look at my chair and I resent the hell out the damn thing. I look at my useless legs and I’m like ‘work, damn you!’ And I think about how I used to be able to run so freaking fast, and I miss it like crazy. But I’m not getting that back, and this is my life, and it’s who I am. And I refuse to let it define me. I’m not a paralytic, I’m just Dinah Britton, artist, athlete, and woman.” She gestures at my bedroom. “This girl? From what you’re telling me, I think she’s very similar. She’s faced with an intensely shitty situation, and she refuses to let it define her.”
“I’d say you’ve got that nailed down pretty well. That’s her, all right.”
“You don’t pick the easy route, do you, Wes?” she asks, laughing.
“I didn’t pick anything. It was…I don’t know. Obviously, I’ve had a choice every step of the way. No one is, like, forcing me to do anything. She’s not needy. If anything, she’s continually given me opportunities to bail, because she knows shit like this,” I wave at the room, “is going to keep happening. And, likely, get worse. But I can’t. I can’t walk away. I can’t and I won’t. I honestly wish, in some way, that I could. I know this is going to be painful. But it’s just not an option.”
Dinah nods, finishing her beer and handing me the empty bottle to put down. “You know, Wes, an hour ago, if you’d asked me if I thought it was possible to meet someone and fall just completely and totally in love with them and be, like, completely committed to them…all in the space of a week or whatever it’s been? I would have said you’re freaking nuts, no way. You need more time to know a person. That’s what I would have told you. But now?” She huffs, shakes her head, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I know you better than I know pretty much anyone, and this is some real shit for you, brother.”
“It is. The realest.”
“You’re not denying the fact that you’re in love with her, I notice.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Have you told her?”
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t. Not yet. It hasn’t been the right time.”
I hear a scuffle from my bedroom, and Jo is standing in the open doorway, squinting one-eyed at me, the flat sheet wrapped around her otherwise naked body. “Wes?”
I stand up and take a step toward her. “Hey, you. Feeling any better?” I gesture at Dinah. “My sister showed up.”
Dinah waves. “Hey. I’d get up to greet you, but…” a laugh, and a gesture at her empty wheelchair. “I can’t. I hope we didn’t wake you up.”
Jolene shakes her head, shuffling sleepily toward me. “No, I woke up on my own.” She goes straight into my arms. “Hi.”
I wrap my arms around her. “Hi. You’re on your feet—that’s something, at least, right?”
She nods against my chest. “Yeah, I’m okay now. Like last time, I’m not a hundred percent, but I’m upright and mobile.” Still blinking against the light, she sniffs the air. “I smell food.”