Her nails dig into my stomach. “I waaant you tooo. I wanttt you to see how much I looved my lifffe with you. Hooow much I cherrrished everyyy minute of ittt.”
I close my eyes and suck in a quiet breath. When I open them again, I stare up at the ceiling. “Okay.”
“Annnd I waaant you to reeead to the kidsss the onesss they’lll enjoy.”
I grit my teeth and take a moment to answer. When I do, my voice is raw. “Yeah, baby, I will.”
We lie in silence for several long moments.
“I’mmm almossst done with Clarra’ss journals. Wheeen I’m finissshed, I want too find herrr and Charrrles’ family.”
“You want to give them the journals?”
“Nooo.” She pauses a moment. “I shooould give them to theeem and mayybe I’m being selllfish, buut those jourrrnals are minne nooow. I truuuly believe theeey were in our atttic becaussse I was suppposed to find anddd readdd them. I juuust want to meeet their fammily. Or attt least see themmm.”
“We’ll look them up as soon as you finish.”
“Thannnk you.”
I kiss the top of her head.
Thinking of Clara’s journals brings back the conversation Molly and I had the other day about reincarnations. Even now, the idea that we could be these other couples in another life is preposterous, but it’s an idea that I’ve clung to. From the first moment I met Molly, when I was eight years old, I felt a weird connection to her. Even before I talked to her for the first time on that playground. It was when she walked into the room, her head bent as she looked at something and I couldn’t see her face. I had no clue what the odd familiar feeling was, and I had forgotten about it until the idea of us living and meeting in previous lives was formed.
To know there’s a possibility that we’ll meet again one day, to get another chance at love, doesn’t make the thought of losing Molly in this life any easier. But it gives me something to look forward to.
I love my wife so irrevocably, that it wouldn’t surprise me if our love stayed alive through several lifetimes. What we have is too strong to die once we’re gone.
Beside me on the nightstand, my phone pings an incoming email, snatching my attention away. I grab it and pull up the app. My heart skips a beat at who the sender is.
I haven’t told anyone about the email I sent to Dr. Doscher, the doctor in Africa. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. My hopes are already high enough for all of us.
Feeling guilty for doing so, I use her inability to turn to look at my phone and keep the screen out of her line of sight.
“Whaaat is it?”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “An email from an old client.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
I click the email to pull it open.
Dear Mr. Bradshaw,
First, I want to apologize for taking so long to reply to your email. It’s been quite busy at the village I’m in.
I am terribly sorry to hear about your wife. Gerstmann-Straussler-Scheinker is a harsh disease to deal with. Not only for the patient, but for the family members who have to watch their loved ones deteriorate.
As you found from my studies online, I came to Africa several years ago to study the disease in hopes of helping a family of six who has GSS. I truly believed I found a natural remedy to quell the disease.
It is with much regret I must inform you that was not the case. You see, the reason for my delayed response is because the father and grandfather died recently. I also believe the remedy I thought would help the children, sped up the progression of the disease.
I will continue my research, because I do believe this disease will one day be manageable. Unfortunately, now is not that time.
I wish you all the best with your wife and family. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you good news.
Sincerely,
Anthony Doscher
My heart plummets to my fucking stomach, and I feel the last of my hope die. It’s this very reason why I didn’t want Molly to know of my contact with Dr. Doscher. The letdown is devastating. I knew the chances were slim, but it was all I had that kept the intense grief at bay. Now there’s none. Not even a shred.
My beautiful wife is going to die, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to prevent it. How in the hell am I supposed to live when a part of me will die with her?
Although her warm body is lying right here in my arms, I feel like I’m already grieving the loss of her, like that email just took her last breath away from me.
Molly’s slow breathing and her body lax against mine, tells me she’s asleep. In this moment, I’m glad she is. My emotions are too raw, and she knows me too well. She’d immediately know something’s wrong by the stiffness in my body.
Gently, so I don’t disturb her, I maneuver my body so I’m lying on my side with my arms wrapped tightly around her. I pull her so close that we’re touching everywhere possible.
Maybe if I meld our bodies so tightly, I can absorb some of the vicious disease that’s slowly taking her from me.
I lie there quietly for a long time, listening to her even breaths and feeling her heart beat against mine.
By the time I fall asleep, the pillow below my cheek is soaked with my tears.
I’m lying in our grassy backyard. Both of my arms are pillows for my girl and my beauty. Gray is lying down on the other side of Molly. All four of us are staring up at the blue sky with thick pillowy clouds.
Lifting my forearm without disturbing Gemma’s head, I point to one of the clouds. “What about that one?”
Gemma hums for a moment before she says, “Giraffe.”
“Nah. It’s an elephant,” Gray chimes in.
“It’s totally a giraffe,” she argues.
“Okay.” I point to another fluffy cloud. “What about that one?”
We all look at the weird shaped cloud for a moment, unable to decide what it looks like.
“The sssplatter of puddinnng I droppeddd on the floooor last summmer,” Molly finally suggests.
Gemma giggles, and I chuckle along with her. On the other side of Molly, Gray snorts.
“Or it could be the ball of ice cream that Gray dropped on his shirt a few months ago,” I insert, stretching my arm out to ruffle his hair.
“Nope. It’s the birthday cake Gemma threw at me when I snuck behind her that one birthday.”
We all laugh as we remember Gemma’s reaction when Gray scared the shit out of her. Her cake went flying over her head, and to Gray’s utter disappointment, landed smack dab on top of his head. Not how he pictured that scenario would turn out, I’m sure.
“You really scared me. I think I peed my pants a little.”
Gray pelts out a belly laugh, and we all join in. It’s moments like these I’ll miss the most. The four of us, as a family, enjoying the fresh breeze, laughing, and just being together. I’ll still have Gray and Gemma, but our lives will never be the same without Molly with us.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MOLLY
This will be my last entry. My fingers pain me too much to move, let alone hold a pen for fifteen minutes. I spent so much of my life writing in these things, it’s going to be so strange to no longer do so. They’ve been my outlet, my confidante. Of course, I have Charles, who has always been a good listener, but there are times I need to write my private thoughts down. A husband can’t know everything that goes through his wife’s head.