“Is that why you kissed me that night? It was all because of the stubble?”
“No.” I shot him a knowing smile. “I guess Riley was right. I’ve been drawn to you all this time. I was in love with you, but it took me a while to realize it.”
We became wordless and rocked the bench with our feet at a steadily decreasing rate. The air became more frigid, or maybe it was just in my head.
“I wish I would have realized it sooner,” I said and looked at River with dry eyes. I wasn’t sure I had any more tears left inside me after all the crying I’d already done.
River laboriously positioned his arm back around me and pulled me into his body. He felt thinner, bonier, similar to the physique he had possessed as a child.
“Drew. Everything is the way it’s meant to be,” he said.
A ribbon of hot anger twisted inside me. “No, it’s not.”
“I just mean, I wouldn’t change anything about our past. It got us to this point—you being my wife. You being with me.”
I wanted to have the same peace he did. I wanted it to invade my body like the darkness had and expel all of my fear and anger and regret. But it didn’t come. I leaned against my husband’s tenuous frame and prayed, Don’t take him.
◈ ◈ ◈
It got to be too difficult to get up and down the stairs every day. I told my mom about it on the phone one day, and she said that she and my dad would come over later in the day to help us move the bed. Four hours later, I opened the door and found not only my parents and River’s mother on our front porch, but River’s father, as well. He had flown over from Phoenix that same day. His eyes were red, and his hug was a desperate clasp around his son.
Our fathers worked on moving our mattress downstairs while River’s mom helped me clear a space in our front room, beside the fireplace. My mom had brought with her dishes of casseroles and pot pies. She worked in the kitchen, stocking up our freezer and getting one of the dishes cooking in the oven.
We all ate dinner together that night on the two sofas that had been pushed off to the edges of the room. My dad had kindled a fire, and we ate my mom’s shepherd pie with our feet propped up on the mattress. We relived old memories, and River’s parents told stories from his youth that I’d never heard before.
River tired out around eight o’clock, so our mothers cleaned up the kitchen, and River’s father explained that his girlfriend was still in Phoenix, but that he would be staying in Rockwood indefinitely. We said our goodbyes, and when it was just the two of us again, I curled up next to River in bed, Milo at his feet, the crackling fire just feet away. River slept and I stayed there beside him, staring into the flames.
◈ ◈ ◈
River woke up one morning feeling better. He wasn’t as tired, wasn’t as sore, he wasn’t even nauseous from the treatment. On top of that, we had a few days off from going to the hospital. River told me he wanted to take advantage of all of this and go somewhere, get out of the house. A small daytrip to get some air, he said.
I was hesitant at first, afraid to leave the safeness of our home, afraid to put greater distance between us and the hospital than might be wise. River tried to convince me it would be okay, but then I noticed something apart from his assertions that sealed the deal for me:
Milo was nowhere to be seen. Ever since River’s diagnosis, the cat had been surrounding River nonstop, as though he radiated a magnetic force. Now, on this still, quiet morning, I had to go searching through the house in order to find Milo’s gray, fluffy presence.
Milo was tucked away in our guest bedroom, right in between the two pillows at the head of the bed. He was lying with his head craned upside-down, his legs twitching every few seconds—completely asleep, and completely unconcerned for River. I slid out of the room quietly, trying not to wake the serene feline. I returned downstairs to River with a change of heart.
I drove us north, up to the waterhole—the one we had visited years ago as teenagers. The one River had taken me and Cambria to on my eighteenth birthday, the day before he left for New York. I had to do some research on the computer before leaving, that way I could be sure to find the right spot after all these years. My research paid off, combined with River’s help, as he vaguely remembered its location. I parked on the side of the road where the trail to the body of water began.
I must have asked River fifty times if he was doing okay during the hike to our destination. He confirmed that he felt fine each time I asked, and really, he seemed it. He trudged on ahead of me at a decent pace and never appeared to be short of breath or even a little sweaty.
When we arrived, we sat down on a large rock that was able to accommodate both of us. The last time we had been here, it was late August. This time, in November, the scenery looked quite different. The trees were merely gray skeletons surrounding the water. The sky was also gray, but several shades lighter than the trees, creating a contrast that was, in its own Winter-ish way, beautiful.
There was one thing that hadn’t changed, though: the water, just as blue as ever, a pool of sapphires. I remembered how refreshingly cool it had felt that summer day. Even Cambria had joined us in the water, and then we had all dried off on the rocks and talked about the future as though it were only filled with days just like that one—days of golden light and gemstone water and shrieking laughter.
We had been children then, and things had been simpler. We could enjoy days like that without putting much thought into it. We could talk about the future without infusing too many of our worries into the conversation. River and I had been friends then—just friends. Now, I thought to myself, look at us. We had grown up, we had fallen in love, our friendship had transitioned into a real romance, a full commitment. And with all of that—the growth, the love, marriage, sex, commitment—had come complications. Pain. Fear. Darkness.
River spoke, and I turned to face him.
“This was a great day, wasn’t it? It was your birthday.” He took a deep breath of the fresh air as he looked out upon the water.
“It was great,” I agreed. “I remember thinking it was just right. We swam right here in this water, we had a barbecue with my parents, and . . .” My voice trailed off before I could say it. The apple tree. I didn’t want to think about it. Not now. River gave me a soft look with a closed smile. He knew what I was thinking.
“But then you left the next morning,” I continued. “That was the only bad part of the day. When you told me you would be leaving so soon for New York, and we had to say goodbye.”
I heard River take in a breath and let it out. The sound of it was easy, unstrained, actually healthy. “I was more restless back then. I guess I wanted to make sure I wasn’t wasting my life. I wanted to go out and see places that Julian never got to.”
“Maybe I should have gone with you.”
“Drew. It all worked out. We both had to go through our own journeys for a while, that’s all. And now, we’re together, and the last two years, I’ve never been more certain.”
“Of what?”
“That I haven’t been wasting my life.”
We made it back to our house in Deerfield without any problems. River fared astoundingly well throughout the whole trip, never complaining of fatigue or soreness or chills or any of the symptoms he had been plagued with over the past several, drawn-out weeks.