by kai
July 2001
"Carpe Diem."
That's what Joe told me when I asked him.
It was late and the bar was empty. The patrons and wait staff were gone, my own shift long over. I sat beside him at the corner table in a soft pool of light, smoothing my fingers over the moisture on the Coke bottle; alcohol and chemo don't mix.
"He's a good man."
And handsome, and kind. A dark prince with a beautiful voice, a wonderful smile, and old, old eyes.
"But I don't really know him, Joe," I said. "I mean, not really."
He took my hand then and rubbed one callused thumb across my fingers. "Do we ever really know one another, Alexa? Can we really?" There was something in his voice, his eyes -- secrets perhaps, and a kindness, tenderness and passion -- that surprised me, made something inside me ache and my eyes tear. "No matter how long you know someone, how well you think you do, they can always surprise you."
I closed my eyes and squeezed his hand. "But I don't love him, Joe."
"You don't. Or you won't?"
I bit my lip hard, but still the tears spilled. "I'm dying."
He was unmoved. "We all are."
"But why me, Joe? Of all the women. He picks me." I gestured down at myself. "Skinny. Scrawny. Quintessential wallflower. Enlighten me."
"None so blind." Joe laughed softly and shook his head. "You're beautiful, Alexa," he said, gripping my hand tightly. "As for why? Because you're you, and he loves you."
"It can't be that easy." I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand.
"Trust me. It can be. Let him show you the world, Alexa. You won't regret it."
"It sounds so Machiavellian, Joe." I pulled my sweater around my shoulders and shivered. "I want to see the world, the Grand Canyon, the pyramids, Greece. Adam falls in love with me -- in love with me, Joe! -- and I, what? Use him to see a world I've given up on? That I always hoped to see?"
"Oh, darlin'. Come here." Joe's hugs are incredible. He surrounds you with love, reminds you of hot chocolate and cookies on a winter day. "He knows. He understands. You're not using him. You're making him happy."
It was impossible to resist his compassion, so I didn't, and let the tears fall, soaking the collar of his shirt.
"You love him, don't you?"
The time for lies was past. "Yes," I whispered. "I think I do."
He pulled back and brushed the hair away from my face. "Then go," he said fiercely. "Go with him, Alexa. Make him happy. And snatch a little happiness for yourself, too."
"Really?" I was smiling a little now, despite the tears.
"Yes," he said. "Really. No matter how much time we think we have, it's never enough. Carpe Diem, my friend. I promise, it will be worth it."
*
Although I can't leave the bed now, when Methos -- no, to me he'll always be my Adam -- draws the curtains, I can see the lovely garden below, its marvelous sculptures, from the window.
Joe was here a week ago.
He stumped in, kicked Adam out -- to think, a five thousand year old man cowed by Joe and his cane! -- and sat on the edge of the bed, taking my hand.
"So," he said, searching my face with his eyes, caught between laughter and tears. "Was I right?"
I was strong enough then to laugh. "Yes," I said, remembering the pyramids at dawn, sunrise over the Mediterranean, the Grand Tetons, the Eiffel Tower, remembering it all. "You were."
Finis.