Free A Small Matter by M.M. Wilshire Page A

I’ll educate you. Rule number one--never challenge
me--you don’t have the mental resources.”
    “True,” he said. “My understanding of women
has never advanced much beyond the dream stage.”
    “I can’t believe it,” she said. “You changed
the subject. And you did it so sneakily, you almost got away with
it. We were talking about you being a huge hypocrite.”
    “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “What you’re
saying to me is that I have no right to ask you to take the chemo
if I myself won’t go for the quadruple bypass.”
    “That’s right,” she said.
    “So what if I agree to take the cure?” he
said.
    “But you won’t,” she said. “And we both know
you won’t.”
    He slammed down his glass. “I will,” he
said.
    “You will?”
    “I will,” he said, “if you will.”
    Vickie was taken aback at this turn of
developments--her intention had only been to goad Mulroney, perhaps
due to her own anguish over her failing body. She’d been taking it
all out on him, who’s chances for surviving his medical procedure,
she reckoned, were measurably better than her chances of surviving
hers. Somehow, he’d turned the tables, putting his fate into her
hands. She felt the heavy burden descend instantly upon her soul.
She now had Mulroney’s life on her conscience, had it in her
ability to save the big, stubborn giant from his worst fears. She
could, at a word, markedly prolong Mulroney’s life.
    “That was a neat trick you performed,” she
said. “Shifting the burden of your life to me at a time when I’m
the one who needs caring-for more than you. But I made a decision.
I’m going to call you on it. I’m going to ascend the scaffold.”
    “What?” he said. He’d heard her clearly, but
the implications of what she’d said short-circuited out when it hit
the wellspring of his fears regarding a possible rending open of
his giant chest.
    “I’m taking the chemo,” she said. “I’m going
to fight for more time, even for the cure, if it isn’t too late.
I’ll even go under the knife and let them cut out my insides if
they want to--but only on one condition.”
    “Oh no,” he said. “This can’t be happening.”
At this point, he was happy, but he realized that the happiness was
soon to be extinguished as he found himself being propelled forward
towards a date with a knife. “What condition?” he said.
    “You go under the knife first,” she said.
“Get your arteries repaired. The day you come out of surgery, I’ll
start the chemo.”
    “I’m lost,” he said. “I’ve spent a lifetime
in command of other men’s destinies, but in the grip of your
psyche, I feel wholly inadequate.”
    “I told you never to challenge me,” she said.
“You built the trap to force me to seek the cure, but now you’ve
fallen into that trap. You said you’d have the surgery if I’d have
the chemo, but you didn’t think you’d really have to go through
with it. But all that’s changed. If you’re going to remain in a
happy union with me, you’ll have to assent to the open heart
surgery. To realize my healing, you’ll have to take a knife in the
chest for me.”
    “I have no choice,” he said. “I’ll go under
the knife for you.”
    They avoided each other’s eyes, the better to
appraise this unexpected and more profound connection between
them.
    "I am scared to have you go first," she said.
"Because right now your support means everything to me. But I also
think it will help me to have somebody to nurse back to
health."
    "Okay," he said.
    “You give up your heart for me,” she said,
“and I’ll give up my guts for you.”
    “I’ll make the arrangements right after we’re
married,” he said.
    “No,” she said. “You have to have the surgery
right away.”
    The big man blanched. “Right away?”
    “Tomorrow,” she said. “I’m sorry to rush you,
my love, but I’m almost out of time.”

    Chapter 12

    Mulroney and Vickie, ensconced in comfortable
leather chairs in a