The Edge of Always(78)

“You know what I mean,” I say. I reach out and move the palm of my hand over the top of one flame, just to feel the heat on my skin and to see how close I can get before it’s too much.

“I know,” he says, “but just the same.”

I pull my hand away and look at him; his face looks soft in the orangish glow of the candlelight, even with the stubble he’s started letting grow again.

“Camryn, I need to tell you something,” he says.

Instantly, my heart locks up in my chest at the way he said it.

“What… I mean, what do you mean you have to tell me something?” I’m so nervous. I don’t know why.

Andrew draws his knees upward and props his forearms on top of them. He looks back at the flame once, only for a few seconds, but even a few seconds is too long.

“Andrew?” I turn around fully to face him.

I notice his throat moves as he swallows. He looks me in the eyes.

“I’ve been having headaches,” he begins, and my heart falls into my stomach. I think I’m going to throw up. “Just since Monday, but I set up an appointment with a doctor here. Your mom recommended him.”

I hate her right now for keeping this from me. My hands are shaking.

“I asked your mom not to say anything because I wanted this house stuff to go smoothly—”

“You should’ve told me.”

He tries to reach out for my hand but I inadvertently push it away and rise to my feet. “Why’d you keep this from me?!” I feel dizzy.

Andrew stands up, too, but he keeps his distance. “I told you,” he says. “I didn’t want—”

“I don’t care! You should’ve told me!”

I fold my arms over my stomach and arch over forward a little. I’m surprised I haven’t already puked. My nerves are so frayed it feels like they’re really coming apart inside me. “This can’t be happening…” Finally, I bury my face in my hands and rupture into sobs. “Why the f*ck is this happening?!”

Andrew is next to me in seconds. I feel his arms wrap around me. He pulls my trembling body into his chest and holds me. Tight.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “I honestly don’t feel like I did before, Camryn. I’m having headaches, yes, but they feel different.”

When I tame my sobs enough that I feel like I can speak without choking, I raise my head to see him.

He encloses my face in his hands and smiles faintly at me. “I knew you would react this way, baby,” he says in a quiet voice. “I don’t want you to stress out for the next four days until my appointment on Monday.” He holds my gaze still. “It doesn’t feel the same. Just focus on that, because I’m telling you the truth.”

“Are you?” I ask. “Or, are you saying that to keep me from worrying?” I already have it set in my mind that the latter is exactly what he’s doing. I pull away from him and start pacing the floor, my arms crossed, one hand resting on my lips. I can’t stop shaking.

“I’m not lying to you,” he says. “I’m going to be fine. I feel like I’m going to be fine, and you have to believe that.”

I whirl around to face him again. “I can’t do this anymore, Andrew. I won’t.”

He tilts his head slightly to one side; his gaze is thoughtful, curious, concerned.

I know he wants me to elaborate on what I said, but I can’t. I can’t because the things I want to say would only upset and hurt him. And they would just be words. Words born from pain and anger and a part of me that wants to look God, or whoever, or whatever, in the face and tell It to go to Hell.

I need to calm myself. I need to take a step back and breathe.

I do just that.

“Camryn?”

“You’re going to be fine,” I say to him matter-of-factly. “I know you’re going to be fine.”

He steps back up to me, kisses me on the forehead, and says, “I will be.”





Andrew





35


The past four days have been stressful. Although Camryn said she’d remain positive and not let it get to her, she hasn’t been herself. Her nerves are shot all to hell. Twice I’ve heard her crying in the bathroom and throwing up. Ever since I told her about the headaches last Tuesday night, she’s been acting a lot like she was before we left out to visit Aidan and Michelle in Chicago: faking her smiles and pretending to laugh when something is supposed to be funny. She’s just not herself. Worried about her and remembering what happened after her miscarriage with the painkillers, I flat out asked her if she’s found that “moment of weakness” at all again.

She says she hasn’t and I believe her.

But nothing is going to fix her this time except us leaving this hospital today and me having a clean bill of health.

If I don’t… well, I don’t want to think about that.

I’m more worried about her than I am about myself.

Camryn was asked to wait in another room while the scan is being done. I can tell she wanted to argue with the nurse, but she did as she was asked. And just like the last time, I feel like I’ve been in here for hours, feeling slightly claustrophobic in the tunnel of this huge, noisy machine. Be very still, the technician had asked me. Try not to move or we’ll have to do it over. Needless to say, I practically didn’t breathe for fifteen minutes.