Lauren tried to inhale her familiar mom smell. “Sorry,” she whispered. Sorry to make you lose a child. Sorry to give you more pain. Sorry if I ever disappointed you.
Her mother’s face contorted. “I’m sorry, too, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“Love you . . . Mama. Be . . . brave.”
“You’re my best girl. So strong. I love you, honey.”
Lauren tried to smile, but the fatigue and pain were pulling at her, even as tears slid down her cheeks. A low moan came out of her without her consent, and she gave herself another hit of morphine, barely able to press the button.
Then Jen. Oh, Jen. This was the hardest yet. “I love you so much, Lauren,” her sister whispered fiercely, holding her close, and Lauren managed to turn her head and kissed her sister’s cheek twice.
“Best . . . sister. Best . . . friend. Love you.”
Jen clutched her hard and let out a horrible wail, and for a second, Lauren couldn’t bear it, she couldn’t stand the pain, and she felt herself slipping away from the unbearable grief.
Then Josh pulled Jen back. “Don’t let that be the last thing she hears from you, Jen,” he said firmly, and Lauren loved him so much in that moment. His kindness, his strength, his understanding.
“You’re right,” Jen hiccuped. “Shit! Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” And Lauren couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, no matter how it hurt her chest.
“Perfect,” said Josh, and somehow, her family laughed.
“I love you, sissy,” Jen said, her face crumbling. Then, because she was Super Jen, so amazing and strong, she pulled herself together and smiled, bright as the sun. “See you on the other side.”
Lauren gave her a thumbs-up and smiled back.
Then Josh showed them to the door.
Lauren could hear them murmuring, the soft sobs. Her own eyes streamed with tears. She was so loved. She loved them all so much.
Pebbles was warm against her side, the sweet dog, her fur silky under Lauren’s hand.
Then Josh was climbing into bed with them and wrapping his arms around her. “You did great, honey. My brave, brave wife.” He felt so good. So much like himself.
“I . . . love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too. With all my heart. With my all lungs and liver and pancreas.”
“Kidneys . . .”
“And kidneys. Both of them.”
She felt him crying, felt his warm tears sliding against her temple. The breathing was harder now, and she tried to sneak the air in around the scars, the fibers, the fluid. Don’t pant. Don’t fight. Don’t scare him. Die gently. Another hit of morphine so he wouldn’t hear her gasping, feel her body struggling. Help me, Daddy. The urge to struggle passed.
“I’m so . . . lucky,” she managed, and Josh sobbed then.
“I love you, Lauren. I love you so much. You’re everything to me. I’m the lucky one.”
“Beautiful . . . life.” Her chest wasn’t working anymore. “Love . . . you.” One more breath. Just a little more air, please, Dad, for her last words.
Go for it, baby.
With what felt like a superhuman effort, Lauren pulled air into her poor battered, exhausted lungs, hearing the squeak and rasp, and willed those last remaining spaces in her lungs to open. She looked at her husband. “Thank . . . you.”
Because what else was there to say?
And though his eyes were wet with tears, she saw that flame in the dark, saw all the feelings he had for her, and she truly was so lucky, the luckiest woman on earth, because she had been loved by Joshua Park.
“It’s okay if you go,” he whispered. “You’ve fought enough. I love you. I’ll always love you, Lauren. Rest now, honey. I’m right here with you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
* * *
THOUGH HER EYES are closed, Lauren can see the strange, liquid golden light, so warm, so alive. She hears her father’s voice, feels him close to her. She knew he would come. She knew it.
She can see herself, lying in the bed, Josh holding her close, Pebbles on her other side. Her husband looked so ruined, holding her against him. Her own face, Lauren notes, is white. But she isn’t gasping. She isn’t clawing and scared. She’s . . . quiet. Not quite gone yet, though.
Her poor body. It had worked so hard. It had done so well. She’s proud of it, grateful to it for putting up with all that it had. So many healthy years, so many happy times, walking, swimming, cuddling, holding, carrying. Images flash through her mind—jumping rope with Sarah as kids. Hiding in Jen’s closet and scaring her. Pushing Sebastian on the swing. Holding Octavia. Swimming in the ocean with Josh. Hugging Josh. Making love with Josh. Laughing with Josh.
That body deserves to rest now.
Her new self is strong and warm. There’s no pain, no weight, no fatigue, no chest pain.
I’ve been so happy, she tells her father. He knows this.
Everyone should get to die like this, in the arms of the person they loved best. Josh’s love shines out of him. Lauren watches as he pushes her hair back from her face and kisses her lips, and the light in her new self bursts out, filling her, filling the room.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
It’s time for her to go now. Her father agrees.
One more second, one more for Josh. She wills her love into Josh with the last beat of her heart, and then she is ready.
She sees the knowledge hit Josh. He crumples, laying his head on her chest. Her old body is done, but she’s more here than ever.
He’ll be all right. She knows this.
The light grows even brighter, so bright she can’t see Josh anymore, but she feels him inside every molecule of her, the pulse and thrum of his life.
She is the light now, and though her old body is done, and her old self is gone, her true self would never leave him.
He was, and is, and always would be, the love of her life.
36
Joshua
Month seventeen
July
IT HAD TAKEN some time to get over that final letter. To remember her last day in all its excruciating, beautiful detail.
In some ways, it was like losing her all over again. But when he reread the letters, when he saw the scope of what she’d done, he was so, so grateful for her kindness, her forethought. She had spent her last months thinking about his life after hers, and how to help him.
And she had. Because of her, he had Radley as a friend. He had a new job because he’d gone to that conference. He was part of the community, more than he’d ever been. He owned a new house that, someday, would be his children’s home. He knew karate.