Manuel opens the medicine cabinet; he remembers there
being a bottle of Roxanol. Nothing but electric clippers. His head pounds. The
pain comes in waves. He grasps the sink with his left hand and runs his right
hand through his hair. He stares at his reflection in the faucet. It's still
dripping. Should I call the plummer? he asks himself. His head begins to roar.
He punches the side of his cranium, hoping the blow will knock the pain away.
He immediately regrets this. The roaring only intensifies. He closes the cabinet
and turns the water on. He turns the shower on next and returns to the sink.
Steam begins to fill the bathroom. He removes the electric razor and shaves. He
wipes down the sink. Stepping into the shower, Manuel immediately vomits. A
florescent red follows the current to the drain. Manuel keels over, slowly
sitting in the tub. The water is hot. His muscles slowly begin to relax.
Focus... he says to himself, your
breathing. He grabs the bottle of Doctor Bronners and squeezes a dime size drop
into his palm. The smell of peppermint fills the shower. He inhales deeply and
the roar begins to deafen.
Manuel awakens to the Harlem Shake. His head is resting
on his knees. Outside the shower his partner Louisa is dancing. He realizes he
must have been out for a few minutes. Raising his head he asks, "When did
you get home?" He slowly returns to his knees. She pulls the shower
curtain back and motions for him to scoot over. "How was your meeting with
the oncologist?" Louisa asks. Manuel lifts his head up. "Sweetheart,
in your clothes?" " Get over it." "How was cross fit?"
Manuel asks. "Are you trying to avoid the question? I know you don't give
a shit about competitive exercising." Manuel remains buried within his
body. "Manny, que pasa? Dime me." Manuel lifts his head up. Water
cascades over his brow. The look of concern on Louisa's face stifles any
somatic response. A numbness originating from the primordial void flashes
through his body. There is only her eyes at this moment. Manuel lowers his
head. Meloncholy strangles his soul. "Can we go to the beach
tomorrow?" he asks.
On the way to the coast the next day, with Louisa
driving, Manuel schedules an appointment for a second round of chemo. In Orlando,
the sky is overcast but the temperature still tips 100. As the couple makes
their way towards New Smyrna, the clouds fade to clear blue skies. Kendrick
Lamar bumps on the stereo. "Do you want me to come to the first
dosage?" Louisa asks. She looks over to Manuel. He is staring at the St.
John's River as they pass over. "I don't know yet sweetheart." He
takes a deep breath and begins to rub her neck. "I think when you shut
down, when you don't let others carry some of the emotional burden-- that's when
you begin to die." Manuel turns to Louisa. She wears a half hearted smile.
"What do you want me to say Louisa, that I'll put up a fight until the
very end?" She stops smiling, he keeps rubbing. Manuel continues,
"There is a reality with this stuff. A staunch reality, it spreads
fast..." Louisa begins to cry, Manuel keeps rubbing. He continues,
"...I don't want to be an emotional load for anyone. I'd rather crawl in
the woods and die." Louisa slams on the breaks and jerks the car to the shoulder.
