Page 14 of Coyotes Ever After

A weak, single note of laughter comes out of Colby’s mouth. Ford meets my gaze.

“I’m gonna move him onto the shower chair and we’ll get him undressed.”

He puts an arm behind Colby’s knees and scoops him up like he’s about to carry him over the threshold. Gently, he sets him in the shower chair that Colby has to use for showering these days.

Colby has so little strength that he can’t hold himself up, so I get in the shower and close the bar that surrounds his lower torso like the safety bar on a roller coaster.

Ford is still supporting him beneath his arms. Our eyes lock.

“How do we get him undressed?” I ask.

“I can still get his shirt off.”

“Sorry, guys,” Colby says softly.

“We’re good, don’t apologize.” Ford looks at me. “Get the water and I’ll get him to drink some. Then grab scissors and a trash bag.”

I nod, grateful for his calm, levelheaded demeanor. It’s hard for me to think of anything but how much it kills me to see my husband covered in his own vomit, unable to stand on his own.

The cycle of chemo he’s on is powerful. The doctors told us it would be the most brutal yet.

I bring Ford Colby’s glass of water with a curved stainless straw in it. He takes it.

“Alright, man. Drink some and get that shitty taste out of your mouth.”

I’ve never been more grateful to another person. I have to leave the room so neither of them sees the tears in my eyes. Ford has a way about him that I’ve always admired. It’s why he made such a great team captain. He makes the people around him feel comfortable and respected.

Five minutes later, I come back into the room with the supplies. Ford has already taken off his own shirt and Colby’s. I cut off everything he’s wearing beneath the waist and scoop the clothes into the garbage back, adding his socks, too.

Colby can’t see Ford’s grim expression at the sight of his visible ribs and collarbone, but I can. It’s a special kind of hell seeing a war raged on the body of someone you love.

“He’s kept the water down,” Ford says, his expression neutral again. “You keep that up and we’ll be bringing you chocolate shakes soon.”

Ford slides his pants off, only his boxers left. He locks eyes with me.

“No reason for us to both get wet. I’ve got this. Go hang out with the girls.”

I give him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, but I want to stay.”

“Okay, get a clean towel and clothes for him and I’ll get him cleaned up.”

I nod, hearing the flow of the water as I leave the room. This is something I truly couldn’t do without help. We’d have to hire home health nurses if Colby’s former teammates weren’t willing to do it. At first, Colby hated his friends seeing him looking like he does, but he’s used to it now.

When I return to the bathroom with two towels and clean clothes from our closet for both Colby and Ford, Ford is just finishing up using the detachable showerhead to rinse Colby off.

Together, we dry him off and get him dressed. With Ford’s supporting most of his weight, Colby’s able to slowly walk into our bedroom. Once he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, I move his legs into it and Ford helps him get into a comfortable position.

“Thank you,” Colby says, giving Ford a solemn look.

“We’re brothers, man. You’ll be doing this for me someday.”

Colby can barely keep his eyes open. I pass him a pill and bring the glass of water up to his mouth, angling the straw so he can reach it.

“Two swallows,” I say.

“Role reversal,” he mumbles, his lips quirking in a small smile. “You usually swallow.”

“He’s still got the jokes,” Ford says with a grin. “I assume you’ll be here all week?”

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