Anger wells up in me like one of those big waves that crash on you when you’re swimming. I’ve been on a boogie board when a wave hits me, grabbed me, and turned me over and over smashing me down on the sand until it scraped the bottom with me. That’s what it feels like, this anger. It’s actually a friend. If I didn’t have this anger, I would be sad and I don’t think I could survive that. I want to feel that sand scrape me raw. It’s good right now to feel that anger. It keeps me sane.
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It’s July 2004. My partner and I are sitting in Joey’s living room listening to him talk about what he’s doing to help himself. We know he’s going to die. He tells us it might be a year, but we know that he knows it will be much sooner. I want to jump from my seat and scream, pull my hair out, kick and break things, stick hot forks in my eyes. I want to beat someone up. Instead, I just sit there and nod.
Joey has his own business; he’s a real estate appraiser. Business has been good. He is telling us that it costs him $1500.00 a month to provide health insurance for him and his wife. I know that he is barely able to work anymore and I’m worried. His wife hasn’t worked in years. They have no children. She’s just incapable of holding a job because of her dependence on marijuana. I really want her to be the one who is dying. She’s not dying though. She’s sitting next to Joey now, listening to him.
My sister in law is listening and talking. She tells us that Joey goes on the Web and talks to other liver transplant patients. She says she “doesn’t believe in that.” As if the Web is imaginary or the other people with liver disease don’t really exist? I’m wondering, what does she mean? She doesn’t like Joey to talk to strangers on the “computer.” Ignoring her is getting harder.
Joey starts to tell us how he’s been going to a psychiatrist to help him through his despair. He has also begun visiting a faith healer. As he is saying this I see his wife rolling her eyes and making that trashy, low life money sign with her hand. She is telling us that money is just flying out of the window. I am imagining myself flying through the air at her. I push her down. Once she’s on the floor I choke and beat her. Then I kick her over and over again until she stops talking. My head shakes, I try to focus on Joey.
Joey continues talking. He wants to go to Port Charlotte, Florida to spend his last few months. He has even found a house he wants to buy. His wife is telling us she won’t go without making sure that everything is “wrapped up” in Virginia, no matter how long it takes. She is concerned about her furniture and leaving any bills unpaid. She also does not want to live anywhere near my family who lives in Ft Myers. She is worried they might be too close and will visit too often. Joey tells us he won’t go without her and quotes the Book of Ruth.
During this visit I reach a breaking point. I know that I hate Joey’s wife so much that it will be difficult not to sock her in the jaw whenever I see her. This is it. With complete certainty a door has closed in my heart. That woman will never again be a part of my life once Joey is gone. I will wish her dead. It pains me that she is not the one dying. I am not sorry I feel this way. Joey doesn’t deserve to die like this and she doesn’t deserve to live.
Joey lived one more month. He never made it back to Florida. The day he died, I took one last look at his wife. She was Joey’s big mistake. I wasn’t going to add to it. She was out of my life.
