Page 35 of Ms. Lead

“That takes away my choice to stay or go. I no longer have any options. Because big, brave, Oliver wants to do everything by himself. Well, gee, thanks for that. Thank God I don’t have to make that big, brave decision. I don’t think my tiny little brain, or better yet, my tiny little heart, could handle something so fucking important.”

My ire is building steam as I talk. It’s my turn to let loose.

“Bianca—”

“No. You had your say, and now I get to have mine.” His mouth drops open, but I go on. “All this time, and you didn’t even give me the courtesy of a ‘hey, by the way, I’ve got this going on,’ or, I don’t know, maybe educating me about it. You automatically assume I know anything about MS? Whatever gave you that idea? And instead of teaching me about it, you hold it against me that I don’t know what you’re going through? How could I possibly know if you never told me you were going through anything?”

“I wanted to try to—”

“Uh uh. Nope. My turn, remember?” I shake a finger at him as my angry tears start to flow. I hate that I cry when I’m mad. It makes me feel weak. I wipe my damp face with the back of my hand and sniffle loudly. I don’t care. “You are not being fair, Oliver. Not only in taking my choices away from me, but you’re holding your choice against me. I don’t know the first thing about MS, but I see your anger, and it makes me just as angry. You probably have every right to be pissed off at the world. I see your utter despair about having children, and again, not knowing anything about it, it hurts me for you because I know you would be an amazing father.”

His head falls into his hands. “Bianca…”

I drop to my knees in front of him and pry his hands away from his face, forcing him to look at me. Every single cell in my body wants to take him in my arms and protect him from anything that would try to harm him. He wouldn’t want that either, though.

What I can settle for is being here for him, being by his side as he navigates his uncertain future. I refuse to let him face this alone.

“Let’s compromise.” I brush the hair off his forehead, exposing his scrapes and bruises, and my heart clenches. I need to be careful not to show pity. Not only because I don’t pity him but because that is the last thing Oliver would want. I know this about him already. “How about I learn what I can about Multiple Sclerosis, and then I get to decide whether or not it’s something I can handle as a partner?”

He searches my eyes intently, probably looking for it being a trick or a ruse of some kind. He’s not going to find anything like that in my gaze. The only things I’m feeling right now are sadness and determination. I can’t get more honest with him than that.

After a minute, he nods.

“Okay.” His emotions are still raw, and he seems unsure and vulnerable. The exhaustion on his face is evidence enough that this has wiped him out. Now I need to do whatever I can to let him know that I’m here for him.

I lean down, untie his right shoe, and gently slide it off his foot. I repeat the same with the left. He had indicated his right leg when talking about it being a problem, so I tentatively roll up his jeans to the knee and start gently massaging his leg and foot. When I glance at him briefly to ensure I’m not doing something wrong, I can’t read him at all, so I continue. If he wanted me to stop, I think he would say something.

After a while, when I look up at him, his eyes are half-closed. He has been through the wringer and is done. I roll his pant leg down and climb into the middle of the bed. He shifts, lays back, and places his head on my chest, his arms wrapping my waist tightly.

We don’t say a word, and I play with his hair and watch him drift off slowly to sleep. He fights it but eventually gives in with a deep sigh.

As I watch him sleep, I replay everything we both said to each other tonight. Every single word. I want to make sure I understand him completely before I go trying to swoop in and save the day. That isn’t something he wants, and it’s not something I would want to do either.

This is his issue. Absolutely. But if I’m in his life, it’s my issue too. I really need to learn everything I can about it. It’s the only way to make an informed decision.

Am I doing the right thing here? Or should I have left it alone? Left him alone like he said he wanted to be? Why didn’t I believe him about that? So many questions rush at me as I watch him sleep. Too many to answer in one night.

* * *

When I awake the following morning, it’s confusing for a second since this hotel room is still foreign to me. Also, it’s just me in the bed with a blanket over me that I don’t remember grabbing. I don’t see Oliver anywhere, and I don’t hear him either.

Panicking for a minute, I glance around to make sure his things are still here, and he didn’t just get up and leave in the middle of the night. Luckily, I see his computer bag by the table, so I know he’s still here somewhere.

I slide off the bed and go into the bathroom. The bright lights make plain the events of last night on my face, as my mascara has left dark shadows under my eyes. I look around for a washcloth to clean up and can’t help but notice a clear bag full of pill bottles. I’m drawn to it by curiosity and pick it up gingerly, careful not to mess up the arrangement of the contents in case they’re placed in some kind of order.

Counting them as I read their labels, I note there are eleven total, but not all are for every day. I put the bag back on the counter and stare at myself in the mirror. Last night was pretty heavy, and I’m not sure everything has completely sunk in yet.

Is this something I want to get involved with? It seems as though Oliver would give me an out if I wanted to take it. He’s said he wants to face it alone, and whether I believe him or not, shouldn’t I respect his wishes? Am I forcing myself into his life?

I take a deep breath. I haven’t agreed to anything other than learning about the disease. I can’t make an informed decision until I know more about it. So, how do I go about this? The internet? Oliver himself? Do I know any doctors? Does anyone I know have MS, or someone in their family?

I’m lost in thought when Oliver steps behind me in the mirror, scaring the shit out of me and making me jump. I didn’t hear him come back into the room I was so lost in thought.

His brow furrows as he watches me. “Are you okay?”

Running the washcloth under the faucet and then wiping under my eyes as if nothing happened, I shrug. “Yeah, you just startled me. I’m not a hundred percent awake yet without coffee.”

“Ah, well, I can remedy that. I’ve brought us breakfast.”

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