“I’d rather have one hour with you than a million days with Beyoncé.”
“Oh, please. You’re lying. I’d take Beyoncé in a heartbeat.” She traced his adorable ear with one finger. “You’re married to a woman with a terminal illness. Our life is a catastrophe.”
“Now that you bring it up, you are kind of a loser.”
She snorted. “Ah, well. What was on that card from Mean Debi? ‘It’s not about counting the days; it’s about making each day count.’”
“I just threw up in my mouth.”
“I hear you. Let’s stop talking about death. It’s a beautiful day. I’m sorry I’m so maudlin today. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You have a grave lung condition,” he intoned.
“Right, right, I forgot.”
He turned to look at her, and his eyes were full of tears. “I love you with all my heart, Lauren Park.”
“I love you with all my pancreas.”
“I love you with both kidneys,” he said, smiling just a little.
“I love you with all my liver. And the liver is very important, as you know.”
“Go to sleep, wife. I have plans for you later involving a certain magical car that can somehow induce orgasm.”
“Oh, my God.” She fell asleep, still smiling.
She slept. And when she woke up, they went inside to the big bed and got naked and turned on the porno. A UPS man appeared on the screen, knocking on the door of a woman wearing a red thong and sparkly pasties, holding a broom.
“What?” Lauren exclaimed. “That’s what I wear when doing housework, too!”
“What is it about UPS?” Josh asked. “Do they know what their drivers are doing all day? And where is the magical car? I was promised a magical car.”
They lasted four more minutes into the film before their laughter made watching it impossible. It served its purpose, though . . . they made love afterward, and it was gentle and filled with laughter and smiles.
On their second-to-last night there, they sat on the patio sofa, her back against his chest, his arms around her, and they watched the sun sink into the cream-and-orange clouds. When the sun slid behind the ocean, the water turned cobalt, and the clouds faded to purples and pinks, then gray. Herons, sandpipers and pelicans gabbled as the waves shushed against the shore, and the stars came out, one by one, growing brighter as the sky turned indigo.
If she could choose where to die, she’d pick here. Just one gentle last breath, then nothing.
Unfortunately, the odds were against her in that respect. She’d Googled the videos. She’d seen the documentaries. Dying of oxygen deprivation was not pretty.
She sat up and wrapped the blanket more snugly around her shoulders. “Josh, we need to talk about something.”
His face locked. “What?” he asked, but she knew he knew.
“Stuff.” She stifled a cough and swallowed. “End-of-life stuff.”
Josh bent his head. “It’s too early to think like that.”
“Well, honey, it’s obviously on your mind, or you wouldn’t have gotten so mad the other night. And it’s on mine. This is the perfect time to talk, because then we can put it away and have fun tomorrow. I want to go swimming again.” Tears were thickening the back of her throat. She coughed to clear it. The last thing she needed was mucous gunk choking her. A nice yoga breath, a conscious relaxing of her neck and throat muscles. But her eyes stung nonetheless. “Please, Josh. Let’s get it out of the way.”
He looked away. A night bird trilled, then fell silent. “Okay,” Josh said, and his voice was flat and expressionless. “Go ahead.”
Her heart hurt. It hurt like a dull knife was pushing through it, a centimeter at a time. “So I’ve been thinking about it a little, here and there. And I know it’s probably a long way off, but just in case . . .” Her voice choked off as she swallowed a sob.
He took her hands and studied them, the diamonds of her engagement ring winking like a star.
That had been such a happy day, the day he proposed. It seemed like decades ago, in another life. A healthy life.
She took a careful breath, as deep as she could. “I want it to just be you and me at the very end. Not my mom, not Jen, not anyone but us.”
He nodded and swallowed, his perfect throat working. His grip on her hands tightened.
“I’d like to say goodbye to everyone, if that’s possible. You know . . . if I can tell I’m winding down but can . . . but can still talk and stuff.”
He nodded, then bent so his head rested on their joined hands. He was crying. Of course he was. It was impossible not to, and she was, too.
“I don’t want heroic measures,” she whispered. “If it’s the end, it . . . we have to let it be. I don’t want to be a body kept alive by machines just for another day or two. When I go, I want to be . . . me. I know there’ll be drugs and stuff, but I want to be able to look at you.”
Her hands were wet from his tears. He nodded, unable to speak.
Given the choice, she’d pick his life over hers. Any day, every day. If one of them had to die, it should be her, because he was such a gift to the entire world. He was. He was everything.
She bent over so her head rested on his, the two of them folded together like origami. She pulled one hand free and stroked his black hair. Oh, she loved him so much. So much.
“Are you done?” he asked, his voice thick.
“Well, a couple more things.” She straightened up. “I don’t want to die at home.”
He looked up at her. “You don’t?”
“No. I don’t want you to remember me dead in our bed, or on the kitchen floor, or . . . I don’t know. On the toilet.”
He half laughed, half sobbed. “Okay. No toilet death. If you do die there, I’ll move you so you look dignified, and lie to everyone.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” She smiled, but her mouth was wobbling. “I want a big-ass funeral, too, where everyone is sobbing, but laughing, too. And really good food and music. None of that church stuff. I want Beyoncé and Bruno. In person, if possible.”
He laughed, and his laugh was a sign of his love, because he knew she couldn’t take it if he broke. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Eulogy by Jen, toasts at the after-party from anyone who wants. And then I want to be cremated and mixed in with soil and have a tree grow out of me. They have these urns for that.”