Page 86 of Rescuing Mary

Suddenly, finding his wedding ring was more important than reading. Putting the journal aside, Truck stood and headed back into his wrecked bedroom. He went straight to the bathroom.

Instinctively knowing exactly where his ring was, he opened the bottom drawer to the left of the sink, crouched down, and rifled through the junk there, pulling out a small velvet bag in the back. How he’d known right where to look, Truck had no idea, but when he dumped the bag into his hand, two rings clinked together as they landed in his palm.

Their wedding rings.

Closing his eyes, he suddenly remembered everything about the day he’d put them away.

* * *

“I’m not going to wear my ring,” Truck told Mary.

Her eyes were sad, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“Not because I’m not happy to be married to you, but because it’s not smart while we’re on a mission.”

“Okay,” she repeated, then pulled her own off. “If you’re not going to wear yours, then I won’t wear mine either. If you have a naked finger, so do I.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said.

“It is. And this goes for more than just this mission. If you take off your ring, mine comes off too. Got it?”

* * *

Truck remembered nodding at her, but not worrying about it much because he had no intentions of taking his ring off otherwise, except for missions. He’d never cheat on Mary and he’d never willingly leave her. He’d thought the idea romantic, her not wanting to wear her ring if he couldn’t. He’d taken both rings, put them into the small bag, and placed it on the counter. Later, he’d moved the rings to the bottom drawer for safekeeping.

He meant to tell her where he’d stashed them, but they’d both gotten busy and he’d forgotten.

Truck slipped his wedding ring on his finger and couldn’t believe how right it felt. He fingered the smaller band wistfully. Reluctantly, he took his own ring off and put it back into the velvet bag with Mary’s. He wanted to haul her back to his apartment and demand to know when she’d planned on telling him about their marriage, then make her wear the ring proclaiming her as his. Just as he would wear his ring, making sure bitches like the chick from the bar knew he was taken. But instead, he put the bag in his pocket.

He needed to figure out how to get Mary to confess that they were husband and wife, but in the meantime, he couldn’t bear to be separated from their rings. Somehow he felt, if he had them with him, it would somehow make their marriage more real.

Truck went back into his living area and detoured to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He drank it down, then went back to the couch.

His memory was definitely returning. With every word he read, and with every hour that passed, Truck was more and more certain he’d eventually remember everything. His head was throbbing, but nothing could keep him from reading his wife’s words.

* * *

I have to admit that I’m feeling better. I finished the chemo treatments (which sucked) and have started on the radiation again. Every weekday for fifteen minutes, I get zapped. I can’t feel it, which is good, although I have a permanent tan mark on my back from the rays. That can’t be healthy, can it?

And my skin is slowly starting to burn. I remember this from before.

Truck has been super attentive the entire time, and I have to admit I love it (although I’d never tell him that. It would go to his head or something. Ha!).

There are times I just don’t understand how he can love me. I’m a pain in the ass. It can’t be fun to be around me right now with my health issues and the way I’m always so bitchy. He could do so much better than me.

But if he decided that he couldn’t deal with the cancer, or me, it would break me. More so than Brian did when I was a teenager. More so than all the other men who let me down. Truck means everything to me, even though I’ve never told him. I have no idea what I’d do without him.

* * *

Truck closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Mary might only be able to admit to herself in her journal how much she cared about him, but seeing the words meant more to Truck than he’d ever be able to put into words himself. He didn’t like knowing that he had the power to break Mary, but he wasn’t surprised…simply because she could easily break him as well. When he opened his eyes, he had to blink a few times to clear the tears from his vision so he could keep reading.

* * *

Oh, God. I forgot how bad radiation was. I can’t stand for anything to touch my chest, which makes it awkward because I’m basically living full-time with Truck in his apartment. He’s helped me goop up my chest with the lotion they’ve given me, but it burns so bad. And it’s so humiliating having him see me.

Intellectually, I know boobs don’t make me who I am, but how will Truck ever see me as anything but the poor pathetic shell of a woman I am now? Not that I have the slightest desire to have sex, but what about the future? If Truck stays married to me, I’m gonna want to jump his bones, but even I wouldn’t want to bone someone if they had the kind of scars I do. They simply aren’t attractive in any way, shape, or form.

Nights are the worst. I swear I can feel my skin peeling and cracking. I lie in his bed on my back, without a shirt on because that shit hurts, and Truck sleeps next to me. He scoots down until his feet are hanging over the edge of the bed and he throws his arm around my waist. He nuzzles against my hip and tells me how proud he is of me. How strong I am.