Jacob's Ladder

Initially, she was "mothering" me, but it soon became something else. I knew that it was impossible for Evie to surrender control of any aspect of her life. That was one of the things that I respected the most about her. But she also had a fierce need to be with me, to be my partner in every aspect of our emotional life. It was a deeper commitment than just love. That paradox was one of the reasons why I trusted her so implicitly.

I was in my home office doing a little telecommuting. It was one of those days in DC when the bad weather sweeps down out of the Alleghenies and the place starts to resemble Sodom and Gomorrah, in more ways than just the behavior of the residents. Evie walked in as the rain was starting. It was 2:19 in the afternoon. I will never forget that time.

I said, "What are you doing home?"

She looked at me sadly, and said, "We need to talk." At that point, there was a clichéd crack of thunder.

I thought, "I KNEW IT!!"

I walked over to the kitchen table. She sat next to me, rather than across from me. She turned toward me, took one of my hands in her two dainty little paws and just looked at me. Finally, she said, "I love you more than I can ever express, but I'm going to be leaving you soon."

She could see the pain in my face. I said, with resignation, "I'd guessed that already. How much time do I have?"

She said, "Six months, to a year." That made no sense.

I said, "Huh? You are giving me a half year to move out? I can do that in a week."

She continued to look sad, and said, "No, I'm leaving you. I just got some very bad news."

It was coming at me like an approaching freight train, but it hadn't quite gotten there yet.

She said, "I'm dying, Jake. I have perhaps a year to live."

That statement ended my world as I knew it. The dinosaurs must have felt the same way. One moment your life is certain. Then the fatal meteor streaks across the sky; and it's all gone in an instant.

I said the stupidest thing imaginable, "We can beat it. I know we can.

She looked at me lovingly and said, "No, we won't. This kind of cancer is a death sentence. The only positive thing is that I will be able to live a fairly normal life until my last days."

I consider myself a tough and pragmatic guy. I survived my dad's unexpected death. I managed to pull through my loss of Kate, but this was too much to endure. I put my head down on the table and wept.

I sensed HER comforting ME. THAT shameful image straightened my spine. I wiped my eyes and looked at her as determinedly as I could. I said, "We'll get specialists."

She said, "I've seen the best."

I said, "I have friends at NIH. We can get you into experimental treatments. I don't care how much they cost. I can afford them."

She looked at me tenderly, and said, "I have more friends than you do at NIH, and they all just told me to accept it."

It finally hit me. This supremely courageous woman was in a battle to the death. I knew that I ought to just face it. But, that simply wasn't possible. A man losing a wife is losing her love and companionship. Evie was also my mentor, and in many respects my only connection with the outside world. She had cheerfully compensated for my innate weaknesses and made me a much stronger man.

Losing her wouldn't just put a hole in my life; it would end it entirely. It is extraordinarily selfish, to view somebody else's death in terms of how it affects YOU. After all, I was healthy, wealthy, and if I wasn't wise, at least I had a presumably long life in front of me. But, that last part was irrelevant. I didn't want a long life without Evie. Losing her would blow-up my emotional foundation and all of my intellectual structures. I had anchored my entire life on her steadfast soul. She was my center, my rock and personal fortress. Without her, I was totally alone and bereft.

I felt the onset of panic. I knew that I couldn't break down in front of her. She had bravely acceded to her fate. I had no right to make it worse by flying off the handle. She saw the effort I was making, and said lovingly, "Let it out baby. I did the same thing when I learned that I would be parting from you for eternity."

I didn't cry when my dad died. I hadn't shed a tear over Kate, but I began to wail like a little baby girl. She held me to her perfect round bosom, stroking my head and making soothing noises. I would begin to stop my caterwauling. Then the awful reality would hit me again and I would start up again.

I finally realized how spineless my behavior was. It made me stop sniveling. I looked into that perfect face, still radiating the energy of her stunning life-force. I said through my tears, "I will spend whatever it takes to make whatever time we have memorable."

And, I did just that.

For a change, I was controlling things. I couldn't pay Evie back for a quarter century of loving guidance, but I could, and would, devote myself to a spectacular end-game. It wasn't a fair exchange. She had given me so much more. Still, I threw myself into taking care of her with the aggressive energy that I put into the first seven years of learning the business.

I cashed out all of my corporate ventures and put the money in a big pile. My mom was gone and I had secured my father's legacy. I set my sister up for life, and then moved on to my only real purpose, which was to do as much as I could for Evie.

She liked history. We toured Italy with a Professor of Antiquities at the American University in Rome. We did the same in Greece. We fucked in our $500 per night room on the lip of the cliffs at Santorini, and then watched the sun set over the harbor. We saw the Great Pyramids, the Great Wall, the Great Barrier Reef and the Grand Canyon. We were at the World Series, the Super Bowl and the opening of every blockbuster show on Broadway.

There were inevitable interruptions for treatment, but the palliative care took place in an advanced facility in the next-door townhouse. I purchased it and joined it with Evie's place so she could go back and forth without leaving our home. The full-time nursing staff stayed in luxury quarters in the other house. It cost, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to Evie's love.

My valiant little Cajun was conducting a fighting retreat. Even though the odds were stacked against her, she was Foch at Verdun, "Hard pressed on my right. My center is yielding, Impossible to maneuver, situation excellent. I am attacking." And Evie attacked life with the kind of ferocity that only she could muster.

Most of the time, she was her old self, intelligent, witty, and above all, loving and giving. We would talk and laugh as we always had. Then a shadow would pass across the face of the sun. I had no idea how much pain she was enduring, because she never complained.

Still, she fought on. The moment finally came when even HER magnificent spirit couldn't hold-off the malicious power of the disease. We maintained her in her own room. It was the room where we had first made love. That was eternities ago, back when the world was young.

She was under the care of a 24-hour oncology team, and YES, it cost a fortune, but I had several of those at my disposal. They wanted me to stay out of the immediate vicinity, simply because I got in the way hovering over Evie's bed. So, I slept next door.

Her beautiful body had shrunk to an 80-pound husk, but lying in the hospital bed she would greet me every morning with a bright sunshiny smile. I would spend the day holding her hand and talking. I would read to her. She liked Twain. I think it was the Mississippi River associations. But, as the time grew closer, she wanted me to read Virginia Woolf.

She slept a lot. I did my crying then; so she couldn't see me. The end came, spiteful as a thief in the night. The head nurse woke me at 4AM to tell me that Evie had started Cheyne-Stokes breathing. I sat at my love's bedside holding her hand as she went through each of those deadly cycles. Peaceful death is for the storybooks. The reality is that it's a vicious and terrifying fight to the end.

I know; I was there.

Evie was in some form of deep sleep, or perhaps unconsciousness as the final battle raged. Ninety minutes passed. There was silence. She slowly opened her striking blue eyes and looked at me with the sincerest and most profound love. Then she left me slowly, dignified and graceful as ever. My unearthly howl of pain brought the nursing staff running en-masse.

We weren't officially married, but Evie had given me power of attorney, which I was going to enforce through a battalion of very high paid lawyers. She didn't have a family to speak of, so she had left everything to me. I immediately cashed it in. I matched it dollar-for-dollar, and used the millions to endow the Evangeline Belle Queneau School of Public Policy at LSU.

I might have given it to a more high-profile academic place like Georgetown, but I wanted the generations-to-come in Acadiana to remember her name.

As for me, I got myself a dog and a boat. I was fifty-three. I didn't know how much time I had left, but I planned to finish my days in the exact state that Evie had rescued me from: solitary.

I am an expert sailor, but solo-sailing anything over 50 feet in your middle fifties still takes some getting used to. I took a year to work my way around the southeast coast and down to a place where I felt comfortable. I had endless resources to draw on, so there was no need to interact with anybody except the people who ran the Marinas.

Once in a while, some misguided soul would try to be neighborly. Buster looks like the hound from hell, even if he wouldn't hurt a fly. Between his deep bark and my surly demeanor, they never stayed long. We just drifted south until we ended up at St. Thomas. I liked it there. People left me alone.

REDEMPTION

That's how I came to be sitting at Tickles; on a very hot afternoon in June, of my fifty-ninth year. I had been living at that marina for five years. I'd read a bit, play on the internet and do all the maintenance needed to keep the boat ship-shape. Sometimes I would run over to Cruz Bay on St. Johns, and even down to St Croix for a couple of months.

The change of scene was nice and I liked the bars in Christiansted. But, I would always end up back at Charlotte Amalie. People ignored me there. I think it's the cold, remorseless effect of the bureaucracy. It encourages personal distance. That's the way it is in DC, too. I wanted to remain nameless.

I stood up, gestured to Buster and began to walk back to the boat. He followed in my wake. His tail-stump was waggling hopefully, in anticipation of feeding time. As we approached, I saw that a stranger was sitting in the cockpit. It was a woman of approximately my age. She must have been stunning when she was younger, because she was still a very good-looking fifty-something.

It irritated me. I don't like my privacy invaded. There is too much cruise traffic into Charlotte Amalie, and sometimes the tourists wander down to the marina to look at the big boats. A couple of times, I had found kids using the bow for a diving platform, but the older, more genteel types, like this lady, were generally more circumspect.

She was gazing to her left out toward Hassel Island, so she didn't see us coming up the dock. Buster's deep bark startled her. She jumped, and turned to face us.

For the second time in my life, I was buried by a tsunami of memories. She was twenty-five years older. Even so, I would recognize those beautiful hazel eyes anywhere. After all, I had gazed lovingly into them all the time I was growing up.

Once again, it was Kate!

She smiled nervously, and said, "Hello, Jake. I was hoping to talk to you."

It was like my brain had crashed and was trying to reboot. Kate was the only person I had ever felt anything for in my whole life; besides Evie of course. Throughout childhood, adolescence and early adulthood, she had been my sole companion. We did everything together and we had plans to spend our life with each other, so it seemed natural for the years to fall away and all the old feelings, associations and memories to flood back.

Kate's loss had been the greatest tragedy of my life; until Evie's death retired THAT trophy for all-time. But, our unhappy parting was forty years ago. I'd led a full life in those intervening years with the most fascinating woman in the world. SHE had made me into the man I was.

I stepped on the side deck of the boat, over the gunnel and into the cockpit. Buster hopped down next to me. He was still eyeing Kate suspiciously. I said, "My God, Kate. It's wonderful to see you, but what are you doing here?"

She said, "I wanted to have a serious talk with you."

I motioned toward the cabin and said, "Come on down to the lounge while I feed Buster. The old boy has his routines." I realized that I was prioritizing my dog over her, but I hadn't invited this visit.

The Beneteau has a luxurious cabin, all high-end wood, leather and chrome. I had gotten the premier package, so the furniture was in the same class as the fittings. The masterpieces on the forward bulkhead were some of Evie's best. Evie loved them. Hence, they were the only things of hers that I couldn't bear to part with.

Kate was impressed by the decor. I walked into the galley, filled Buster's big food dish and water bowl. He instantly buried his jowls in his evening meal. I turned and sat down in the lounge-chair, gesturing for Kate to sit wherever she pleased. She sat on the sectional, knees together, looking even more nervous.

She was wearing the classic preppie uniform; Topsiders, a white pleated skirt and a navy blouse. There was a slight scoop to the top and the requisite set of pearls. It was not intended to show off her boobs, which were still exceptional. Her hair was longer. It wasn't pure chestnut anymore. Now, it was streaked with white.

Her face had held up well, relatively smooth and unlined. Her eyes were as beautiful as ever, sparkling with intelligence and kindness. She radiated an appearance of competence and command; something that she had not displayed in London.

In fact, it was the firmness in the set of her mouth that distinguished this Kate from the woman I had encountered there. Of course, almost twenty-five years had passed, and she was a famous surgeon now. And yes, I knew who she was. Just like me, she had her own Wikipedia page.

I said gently, "You said you wanted to have a serious talk? I'm listening." I was puzzled. People from your past don't just show up on your doorstep unannounced.

She said uncertainly, "I've been rehearsing this for two years and I'm totally tongue-tied, so I guess I'll just say it. Growing up, you were the most important person in my life. I loved you; even more than I loved my parents, and I never imagined being anything but your wife."

She added sincerely, "Leaving home terrified me. Being without you was confusing and frightening. I never stopped loving you in my heart. But, I felt like I was drowning. I was a silly and inexperienced girl back then and I did whatever I could to survive. So, I simply grabbed onto the first life-ring that came my way."

I looked incredulous. She hastily added, "I knew how badly I hurt you. The other boy insisted on coming to that gala and I was too weak to say no. He was out of my life by Valentine's Day. But, I knew that I had betrayed your trust; and I had too much pride to come crawling back. I was afraid of what you might say, or do. So, I moved on, as painful as it was."

I said mildly, "Were you fucking him before you came home? That was long ago and far away so I don't care. I was just wondering how delusional I was at the time."

She hung her head shamefaced, and said, "Of course I was. He was a big man on campus. I was weak and vulnerable. I must have been no challenge to him. It all seems so sordid and juvenile. I thought he was my knight in sining armor, my savior. I'm sorry I lied. But, I did a lot of stupid things back then."

She hesitated and said, "I love you, Jake. I have never stopped loving you. Even when I was married, I kept hoping you would appear on a white charger and whisk me away. Seeing you with that unearthly beautiful woman ended that dream. I even considered suicide after that."

I said a bit harshly, "So whatever happened to old Charlie?"

Kate cracked a vindictive smile and said, "He was 22 years older than me. He's dead now, but I divorced the creep a long time before that happened. I gravitate to men who take charge. The boy you saw me with was like that. So was Charles. He was my clinical supervisor. Then he was my lover and eventually my husband. He was so self-assured."

She grimaced and said, "I know I am not presenting myself in the best light, but I've always been weak." She added glumly, "Then he started making me do things that I simply couldn't justify morally."

I quickly interrupted, I didn't want the confession to go any farther. I said, "I know. He tried to swap you for Evie when we met. Of course, he didn't know who I was, and Evie caused normally rational men to do dumb things. We both suspected that was not the first time."

She looked angry and said, "That happened a few times. It was one of the main reasons why I cut him loose."

I added mildly, "Evie said that you knew."

She said, sounding embarrassed, "I was always too submissive. It took a lot of therapy to overcome my demons. I've worked hard to become a strong and independent woman. I know that I am accountable for my choices now, and I accept that responsibility. But, the worst decision of my life was to give up on you. That's why I mustered the courage to have this conversation."

I said reasonably, "It would have hurt me more to think that I prevented you from becoming the person you were destined to be. I loved you then. I love you now. We've both lived full lives; different than we thought, but that's behind us now."

Then I looked at her and said pointedly, "You never told me why you are here."

She took a deep breath. She was going "all-in" on a single card. She said, "I have never lost my feelings for you. We are both alone and we are both getting older. I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't try to reestablish some small part of what we used to have."

Instead of answering her, I said, "How do you know all of this. How did you find me?"

She said, "They have this little thing called the internet. I would occasionally look you up. I wasn't cyberstalking you. But, for forty years, you have never been far from my thoughts."

She gave me a wan smile and said, "I know that you don't use Facebook, but Evie did. As heartbreaking as it was, I followed your life and I felt nothing but happiness for you."

She added wryly, "I DID have to pay an investigator to find out exactly where you were living. It only took an hour."

She said with regret in her voice, "I know your situation. I know that you never married. I know how much you loved Evie. I respect that commitment, but I'm as alone as you are now."

Then she hesitated, and added forlornly, "I always hoped that we could end our lives together." She stopped talking and sat there looking expectantly at me, waiting for a reply.

My first thought was, "The gods really enjoy fucking with me." There was no question that Kate was the only OTHER female I had ever loved. She had been special to me from the time I had thoughts, so her essence was always tucked in the attic of my mind.

Our parting hurt a lot, inevitable as it might have been. Discovering that she had not been truthful about why she left me was upsetting, but a guy who holds a forty-year grudge because his teenage girlfriend lied to him, needs serious psychiatric intervention.

The problem was that a word like "love" is totally inadequate to describe how I felt about Evangeline Queneau. Her loss hadn't crushed my soul. It had vaporized it. That fact gave me several concerns. I said hesitantly, "I would prefer to be alone for the rest of my life, simply to honor my love for Evie."