Volition
I tossed my duffle bag into the trunk, slammed it shut with more force than necessary, then turned. Daniel stood a scant ten feet away, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, hair rumpled.
"Sneaking away?"
"Getting ahead of rush hour."
His feet were bare. "Are you coming back?"
"I don't know."
He gave a short laugh. "There's something to hang my hat on."
"I told you already--"
"I know what you told me. I heard every word you said. The question is, did you hear me?"
"Yes." I had. Remission or no remission, I love you.
And he did. I didn't doubt it for a moment. Here and now, in the coolness of a spring morning with the ocean's endless heartbeat in our ears, the sun playing in the green of the grass and dancing with the leaves on the trees, he loved me. Remission or no remission. Cancer or no cancer. Statistics be damned. He loved me.
If only I hadn't seen his eyes when I'd told him the truth. If only I hadn't traveled this path before.
"I'm not him," he said.
True. Daniel wasn't Eric. Eric couldn't cope. Maybe, just maybe, Daniel could.
Maybe there'd never even be a reason to find out. But eighty percent survival meant twenty percent mortality. To me, twenty out of one hundred looked like a massacre.
"Emily?" Closer now. Softer now.
I met his gaze. I owed him that much. The corners of his eyes crinkled, not quite a smile, the subtlest of encouragements.
It was so very tempting.
But I had seen his eyes. More than that, I couldn't- I wouldn't put anyone else in a position to have to choose. This time, I would choose. For both our sakes. Whether he'd ever understand that or not.
There wasn't any reason to put it off any longer, so I stuck out my hand in a brisk way. "Take care of yourself, Daniel."
For a moment, I thought he'd refuse, but then his fingers wrapped around mine. "You too."
We disengaged and I went to get into the car, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "Em?"
I turned. "What?"
His arms wrapped around me, his face in my hair, my cheek against his chest. I held him just as fiercely, and when his mouth met mine, I welcomed it.
In the end, I did leave. Daniel, propped against the pillows, silently watched me go.
End
(Please do not reprint without permission, folks. Okay?)
FYI, I've been divorced since 1998. I've had a few very short term relationships and one semi-prolonged bout of seriously pathetic unrequited adoration, but I've long since gotten to the point where I've made peace with my presumption of perpetual singleness. If I get swept off my feet, no one will be happier than yours truly, but no one will be more surprised either.
Having said that, it's Spring and even a middle-aged woman's heart sometimes wants to go pitter-pat for a significant other. And so, semi-academically, the dilemma in Volition interests me even more now than it did back when I wrote it. No matter who you are, I'd love to see some comments and discussion on this:
What the heck does a person in remission do when love comes knocking on their door? Making the ginormous assumption that one's potential swain professes their love regardless, do you simply throw caution to the winds and yourself into their arms? Do you beat them with the "reality" stick for a while? Do you show them pictures of you sans hair? Do you . . . run for it?
How do you know that what they're okay with now will still be okay if the worst should happen? How can you tell?
Taking it a step further (or back, really) is it even okay for the remissionally blessed to seek out . . . a potential someone special? Do you wait a few years to see if you stay cancer-free? Do you go for the gusto now? Putting aside the fact that no one really knows what tomorrow might bring, what do you do when your tomorrow has a forecast of 20% or 30% or even 70% malignancy?
I really want to know.
Interestingly enough, before the lymphoma, I had a profile on a popular singles site. I don't do the bar scene, nor do I "get out much" according to my friends, so it was sort of a passive attempt at letting Mr. Right find me. Yeah, I know, not very pro-active. Better than nothing maybe. I heard from many wonderful Nigerian men, however, who proclaimed that their hearts overflowed with the joy of my great beauty. I suspect Nigerian men need to find themselves some decent ghost writers in addition to someone willing to help them claim their six million dollar inheritances from the recently deceased General Suckabornevryminnit.
After my diagnosis, I left the profile up with the note that I was fighting cancer and off the market, but thanks for looking anyway. I received some really nice messages from people, including a few really supportive comments from cancer survivors. Then I received, "Liked your profile, when can we meet?" (Only not as well spelled.) Bald, ill and dubious, I replied, thanked him for the interest and asked, "Did you actually read my profile?"
"Yes," he wrote back immediately. "I liked the part about the cuddling."
Oh stop staring at me. Everyone likes cuddling. I can put cuddling in a profile if I want to. You'd do the same. It's a dating site. I was just . . . keeping it in the genre, okay?
Anyway.
"Did you," I inquired, "see the part about the cancer?"
This is his reply, verbatim: "yes Just would like to find someone so i'm not alone all the time.Don't you miss cuddling and sex?"
The knee-jerk reply that I didn't send was something to the tune of: "Well yes, by golly, I guess I do! But please excuse me if I don't take a break from driving myself to and from chemotherapy to slap on a wig and canoodle with you so that YOU don't feel alone all the time, you licentious, semi-illiterate, punctuation-deprived, self-absorbed turd-burger!"
What I actually sent was a polite "no thanks, but I wish you the best". This proves that Mom raised me right and that I am mostly a nice person. Luckily, he accepted that without argument. I really don't need an Internet stalker on top of everything else.
But that leads to another question, albeit a very cynical one. Does cancer make one an attractive target to total losers because of a presumed Desperation Factor?
(On second thought, maybe I don't really want the answer to that. )
Thoughts? Comments? Flames? Experiences?
Posts
7 comments:
As one who crossed the top of life's hill a long time ago, I suppose that in many ways the same questions apply to age. Having not taken even a few steps in your moccasins, I'm not at all sure I'm qualified to comment. But qualification has never stopped me before. After all, I might accidentally say something useful.
"Do you simply throw caution to the winds and yourself into their arms?"
Definitely not without some extra time and attention. Passion, lust, infatuation dull the senses. Well, not THOSE senses, but the common sense senses. Give things more than the usual time to simmer before making a commitment. OTOH, if the sort of commitment you are looking for is of the overnight variety, and you are up for that sort of thing, by all means LEAP, knowing that the landing won't really matter. It all depends on what you want. Some people want long-term companionship, some don't.
"Do you beat them with he "reality" stick for a while?"
Same sort of "depends." If you want to be in it for the long haul, a few extra whacks with the reality stick are probably in order. Can't hurt. Well, maybe it can, but that hurt is bound to be much less than the long hurt if you aren't real about it. If he sticks around despite the lumps, then maybe it's going to work.
"Do you show them pictures of you sans hair?"
Yep! That's one of those reality sticks. But watch out. Some guys get off on women without hair. At least that's what I've heard. I, for example saw a picture of a woman in that condition and I ... Never mind.
"Do you . . . run for it?"
Only if you want to die twice. Once of loneliness and unrequitted desire. And again from the effects of kicking yourself because you were afraid to even try.
"How do you know that what they're okay with now will still be okay if the worst should happen?"
You don't. Simple as that. It's a risk. Take it or leave it. No one knows how strong he is until his strength is challenged. No matter what he says.
"How can you tell?"
You can't, at least not for sure. But there are signs. How "responsible" is he? When faced with a choice, does he do the right thing?
Thomas Macaulay said, "The measure of a man's real character is what he would do if he knew he would never be found out."
If you are around a person long enough and are observant, you will get a pretty good idea. Which is another reason not to jump too quickly.
"Taking it a step further (or back, really) is it even okay for the remissionally blessed to seek out . . . a potential someone special? "
Without any doubt, YES! You deserve happiness as much as the next person, perhaps more for the ordeal you've already survived and for the uncertainties that accompany the rest of your life.
"Do you wait a few years to see if you stay cancer-free? Do you go for the gusto now? Putting aside the fact that no one really knows what tomorrow might bring, what do you do when your tomorrow has a forecast of 20% or 30% or even 70% malignancy?"
Go for it. If you find a willing, loving, committed partner, where love is strong between you, you both win. Even if it's only for a short period.
All of life is uncertain. Stuff happens. You--or your partner--might be hit by a drunk driver. An airplane might crash into your house. A gas leak might ... Any number of things can cut a life short. Do you cower and avoid loving relationships because of those possibilities? No. Then don't avoid them because of the possibility that your lymphoma might return.
How would you feel if, instead of being in remission from lymphoma, you were on your late-sixties and had the usual problems of aging? Life expectancy is 74 or so, so you probably (but far from certainly) have at least another five or ten years. Do you avoid relationships because there's at least a 50 percent probablity you won't survive ten years?
Of course not. If love presents itself and you take the time to be reasonably confident that it's real, go for it--with gusto,
I may be niave, but here's my point of view. If love finds you, who are you to turn it away? You cannot make decisions regarding how someone else should feel about you no more than they should make those decisions for you.
Granted, being in remission there are risks. But in any relationship there are risks.
"It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all", right?
All my best to you darlin'!
First, can I laugh my ass off that I was in shock when it was "Emily" (aka a woman) in that snippet? :) Glad you're finding an outlet for that, because there was some good stuff in there.
And I just realized I'm writing aspects of that story again. Whoops.
As for the rest, I'm afraid I don't have any really useful and insightful advice, except that you need to do what feels right and honesty is generally better than dishonesty. :P
But ::hugs:: And yeah, although I've read every word of your blog at this point, commenting is... yeah. You figured it out ;P
Okay. Must feed children.
Briefly ... Wow. Sue, you write brilliantly! In a very indirect way (facebook - Ani Di Franco - Madison) I saw Sue Wentz and thought "could it be?" The same Sue Wentz that I used to speak to more than four years ago? 'Tis. Under any other circumstances, my question would be "How have you been?" but after catching up on some reading, I can see how you've been. I am humbled by your courage, honesty and sense of humor. You make me laugh with a lump in my throat. Thanks .. from the bottom of my heart.
Mary Alice Sullivan
The word of the post is Tedlyb. I really believe, Sue, that these words somehow have deeper meaning in the English language. For example, does this mean that you should hug a Teddy bear? You know, Ted (teddy) dly (cuddly) b (bear)?
As for the love thing, I'm still figuring that one out. My personal question of course is different. It's more along the lines of:
"Do I have the energy to invest in a relationship that must survive the fact that I'm no longer svelte, athletic, and childless?"
Our kids are getting older. Can't we just postpone the question until we have married them off to each other, and have some free time? Then I'll cruise the nonsmoking bars with you looking for handsome, rich cowboys with positive self images and a hunger for older women.
Sue, I see this was posted some two years ago. I hope your remission is holding strong. I haven't had cancer, but have had an illness that was physically difficult. I know what I'd do - what I did - I would pull inside myself and avoid putting myself out there. It might not be the right thing to do, but, for some of us, it's only natural.
What I REALLy wanted to tell you was I loved "Volition." I adore very short stories that tell a complete story. I think "with the ocean's endless heartbeat in our ears, the sun playing in the green of the grass and dancing with the leaves on the trees, he loved me" an absolutely beautiful image. You do have a way with words!
Thank you, Connie! (And everyone who posted, for that matter.) :) Yes, I'm still in remission; feeling good and fulfilling at least part of my bucket list. (That whole college thing you might have noticed on Facebook.) Romance has eluded me, so the questions posed in this post remain moot, but...life moves ever forward.
Thanks for the comments on Volition. Feels like it was written a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, but when I go back and reread something I wrote without cringing, I feel pretty good about it. Volition doesn't make me cringe. Much. ;)
Sue
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