One More Day (8 page)

"I have a job," she reminded him, "and my boss assured me that he wouldn't fire me for getting sick on my fifth day."

"Not gonna happen.  I mean, you don't have to ink it, but finish it.  Shit, if you don't want it, I'll get it done."

"Lemme think about it.  It wouldn't be good for a small piece, and the idea of something that large for my first tattoo is a bit intimidating."

"Yeah.  And we have to wait until your surgery is done anyway.  Would hate to have them cut the wing off and not put it back right."

"You could fix it," she said.

"I would, but easier to wait." 

"I also need to fix your chameleon," she said reaching up to point at his arm.  "Turn this way."

With a shrug, he slid around so that his left arm was closest to her.  With the medication slowly making her feel immersed in water, she traced her finger across his shoulder blade.

"The body should go here, but the tail?  It needs to wrap around this way," she said, drawing a line around his bicep.  "Put it under the frog's branch, and around the gryphon's nest"

"How'd you know that was a gryphon?"

"Because the meaning changed.  From the back, you're saying you need to be what people expect.  From the front, it's nothing but dreams and fantasies."

"You're the first one that's understood," he said softly.  "Now close your eyes, Mack.  Stop fighting it."

"Yeah," she agreed, doing just that.  Man, cancer wore her out.

She wasn't quite asleep when she felt him slip his hand in hers, his thumb brushing against her knuckles as the poison dripped into her veins.  She closed her hand, holding him there, honestly thankful to not be alone in this.

Chapter 8

A warm hand caressed her face.  "Mack," he whispered.  "Time to get you home, sweetie.  How do you feel?"

"I'm ok," she said, releasing his hand to rub at her face. 

"Do you know any other answer?" he teased.  "The nurse wants to take out the catheter."

"What time is it?"  She laid her arm up on the chair.

"Just after noon," the nurse said.  "Ryan, you know she's probably going to be nauseous again, right?"

He nodded.  "Yeah.  Hit her about four hours after last time."

"Just have her take the anti-nausea medication before the stuff in her IV wears off, and it shouldn't be as bad."

Mack looked back and forth between them, her mind trying to keep up.  "More puking?"

"Not if I can help it," he promised.  "We also have to stop by your place."

She shook her head.  "You need to get to work."

The nurse spoke up at that.  "She really should have someone with her, if she was as sick as you said."

He just nodded, his eyes still on Mack.  "Colby's got the shop.  Worst case, you can sit in the office and puke in the trash, deal?"

The nurse tried again, "She really should - "

He cut her off, but kindly.  "My apartment's over the shop.  There'll be two of us.  Trust me, she'll be pampered."

"Fuck," Mack breathed.  "Don't let Colby babysit me.  He'd make me drink the damned kool-aid."

"So will I," Ryan told her gently.

"Yeah, but you're nice about it."

The nurse laughed at that.  "You got a good boyfriend, Mackenzie.  Don't take him for granted."

"Nope," Mack agreed with a little giggle.  "Super Hot Guy's awesome."

"You give her something else in there too?" Ryan asked.

"Valium.  Her doctor requested something for anxiety for at least the first week."

"Gotcha.  C'mon babe.  They're turning you loose, but you have to make it out of the chair."

Feeling as if she was struggling with every muscle, Mack sat up.  She paused, and then pushed herself all the way to her feet.  Ryan was right there with his arm around her, helping her to make her way out of the clinic.  The drive back was a bit blurry, but when she heard the monotonous voice of the GPS lady, her eyes opened enough that she saw her own neighborhood. 

"Turn left," she said.

"Good morning, sunshine."

"It's just up there," she said around a yawn.

He parked the truck in front of her building.  "You gonna come help me?" 

"Yeah," she agreed, climbing out of the truck.

She knew she was walking slowly, but Ryan matched his pace easily, making it feel natural.  With her keys in his hand, she led him to the door.  There was an envelope taped to it.

"I need to sign a new lease," she remembered, opening the letter while Ryan opened the door.

Wobbling inside, she dropped onto the couch, forcing her eyes to work with her long enough to make sense of the words on the page.  She read it twice, and both times it seemed to say the same thing.

"They aren't renewing?  I have two weeks to find a new place."

"K."  Ryan didn't even bat an eye.  "So we need to get you packed?"

"I can't fucking find a new place, Ryan!" she whined.  She heard the tone of her voice, but at that moment she didn't care.  "I'm fucking puking my guts for hours at a time, living on my boss's charity, when am I going to look at a fucking place?"

"I have one in mind."  He jerked his head toward her room.  "Now, come on.  Let's get enough clothes for you for a week."

"A week?"

He nodded.  "Yeah, you're crashing with me.  Someone has to make you drink the damned kool-aid."

"Shit," she muttered as she pulled herself off of the couch.

It was a small place, nothing more than a tiny bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room that bled into the kitchen.  So, when Ryan followed her, she thought nothing of it.  Sitting at the foot of her bed, she pulled open a few drawers, and grabbed clothes, setting them beside her.

"Got a bag?" he asked.

"In the closet."  She pointed over her shoulder.

He opened the door, then glanced over at her.  "You know, I think you're a bit of a clean freak."

"Not really.  It's just easier to keep up with it, and my fucking mom was a damned slob.  Every time dad came home, I had to help clean, so one day I decided to stop waiting for dad and just do it."

"So, you still half stoned?"  He pulled a nylon bag from the top shelf.

"Maybe a quarter," she joked.

"Want to tell me what that was all about back in the clinic?"

"What?"

"What you called me to the nurse."

She thought back, and suddenly remembered.  She'd called him Super Hot Guy out loud.  "Oh fuck," she whispered.  Blushing a brilliant shade of red, Mack hid her face in her hands.  "You can't tell me you don't have a clue," she said into her lap.

"About what?"

"That you're, you know!"

"Just spit it out Mack."

"Damn it, Ryan, you're hot, ok?  Why do you think I noticed you at the coffee shop every day?"

It was the look on his face that surprised her the most.  Complete, total, honest surprise was written on every line.  His mouth opened twice before any words came out.

"Oh."

"I'm sure you get it all the time."  She tried to wave it away.  "I'm going to blame the drugs, and we can both pretend like I didn't make a fool of myself yet again."

"Thanks," he said awkwardly.  Then after a pause, "Really?"

"Why do you think every woman in the room stops to look at you when you walk in?"

"The tattoos," he said, sounding dejected. 

"It's not the tattoos," she assured him.  "They sure don't hurt, but you don't show them off half the time."

"Yeah," he said, trying hard to change the subject.  "So, pack something in case you feel like going out."

She did, then zipped the bag closed and left it on her bed as she made her way into the bathroom.  She collected everything she could possibly need.  Colby had already grabbed her toothbrush, but not the toothpaste, and she'd need her shampoo and conditioner.  Unable to think of anything else, Mack finally made her way back to the living room.

Ryan sat on her couch, his head leaned against the back.  When he heard her, he just smiled.  "Colby's right, this thing is evil."

"I've spent many a night right there because I fell asleep watching a movie," she admitted.  "And you need to sleep.  You were up all night with me."

"Nah, I'm good."

But she wasn't the only one that saw it.  When they returned to the shop, Colby was sipping a coffee in the break room, and peeked his head toward the back door.  He looked Ryan over with a critical eye.

"Damn, you look rough, man."

"He didn't sleep last night," Mack said.

"I just need another coffee.  Gimme long enough to brew one, and I'll come give you a break."

Colby laughed.  "Yeah, no.  It's been dead for the whole half hour I've been here.  Go pass out, both of you."

"Thanks, man," Ryan muttered.  "Gonna need your help later, if you're up to it?"

"Yeah, always."

With a final nod, he led Mack up the stairs, her bag slung over his shoulder.  Without a word, he just walked back into his bedroom and placed it on the top of a dresser, then sat and pulled off his shoes.

"You made me a promise," she reminded him.

He looked at her, and she wagged her finger at his leg.  The deal that morning was that he got to sit through her chemo, and she got to see the tattoo on his leg.  He may have forgotten, but she hadn't.

"Right.  Let me put on some shorts.  How you feeling?"

"Not too bad.  Exhausted, but not sleepy."

"Kinda like laying around and watching a movie?" he asked.

"Thought you didn't have a TV."

"Well, no cable.  I do have one hell of a collection of movies.  Go get comfortable on the couch.  I'll make you lunch if you're good."

"No, not that good," she said.  "Pretty sure that wouldn't be worth the effort."

He yanked open a drawer, and pulled out a pair of nylon shorts, then headed for the bathroom.  Mack went the other way, tossing herself onto the couch, surprised at how truly comfortable she felt.

It wasn't that the couch was that nice, but the people.  She didn't feel like a burden, and while half the time she was embarrassed about one thing or another, it was her, not them, that caused the feeling.  Both guys - especially Ryan - were doing their best to just weave her into their lifestyle. 

Seeing her sprawled across every inch of the sofa, Ryan laughed when he walked in.  He tossed a light blanket at her and dropped a pillow next to the armrest, then moved to stand before her.

"Now, I'm not showing this to you all at once, but you'll get the idea."

He lifted the edge of the shorts, tilting his thigh toward her, exposing the front half of a dragon crawling down his leg.  Each scale was etched in purple and deep blue, and shaded in black and green, making it look nearly iridescent.  The claws looked as if they dug into his flesh for grip, and the liquid eyes were a shocking lavender color instead of the red she would have expected.

Without thinking, Mack reached up to touch it, trying to feel the lines of scales or any indication of the pigment under the skin.  She pushed the cloth a bit higher, looking at the muscling of the haunches, impressed with the way the wings were folded along it's back, looking nearly three dimensional.  When she tried to follow the tail, he laughed and shifted away.

"Yeah, so, the tail wraps around my hips," he said letting the leg of his shorts fall back into place.  "I may have been a bit overzealous in the design, but I like it."

He pulled up his shirt a bit, and pushed the waistband lower, exposing a tantalizing line of short hair that lead to an iridescent tail.  It wove across the top of his pelvis, and he turned, showing her where the pointed tip stopped just at his lower back.  Tugging his clothes back into place, Ryan grinned, and headed into the kitchen.

This time he poured two glasses of kool-aid, setting them on a table at the corner of the couch, and kept going, grabbing a remote from a shelf before opening a cabinet at the end of the room.  Debating for a moment, he tossed a DVD into the player, then returned, gesturing for Mack to sit up.  He passed her the kool-aid, and took a sip of his own.

"Too bad you can't show that off more," Mack said.

"Might get awkward," he admitted.  "It actually was made to cover up my first attempt at a tattoo.  That's why it's black."

"What's under it?"

"Another dragon, but a shit one.  I was a kid and thought a homemade tattoo gun was a great idea.  Fucking piano wire and India ink.  I couldn't control the vibration, so the lines looked like it was drawn by someone with Parkinson's."

He grabbed the pillow from his side and laid it across his lap.  Patting it, he leaned back, encouraging Mack to lay across the couch again, but this time with her head resting on his dragon tattooed leg.  There was no way she was going to refuse that offer.

"Super Hot Guy, huh?" he asked, when she laid next to him.  "That mean you won't beat the shit out of me if I cry at sad movies?"

Mack giggled and looked up at him.  "By the time the sad part gets here, I'll probably be asleep.  Thanks though."

"For what?"

"Not making me feel like a burden?"

"Nah, Mack.  This is the island of misfit toys.  You fit right in."

"Puking in your trash cans."

Ryan sighed.  "I'm just glad I caught you.  I can't stand the thought of you doing all of this alone.  What I just don't understand is why you didn't have some love struck boyfriend willing to walk through fire to take care of you."

"Me?  Ryan, I'm not exactly the catch of the century.  I don't know why you let me cry on your shoulder, and then didn't run screaming from the crazy girl."

He rubbed her shoulder.  "You wear your feelings pretty openly, Mack.  Most days in that coffee shop, you just wanted the world to leave you alone, but that one day, you just wanted a damned miracle.  I get it, ok?  I dunno, maybe it's because I know that feeling, but I figured the least I could do was ask.  Glad I did, too."

"Me, too," she admitted.  "Today was a lot better than yesterday."

"And tomorrow will be better," he promised.  "So, how do you like this place anyway?"

"What do you mean?  The job?"

"Nah, the loft."

She took a long deep breath, and shifted just a bit before answering.  "It's huge.  I mean, it's got to be pretty nice to just walk downstairs to get to work, but you really need some more furniture up here."

"So you like it?"

She made to sit up, but he just held her in place with a gentle hand on her shoulder.