“You just look like you’re in so much pain.” He’s sitting upright, facing me, cross-legged. Naked, the flat sheet draped over his hips and legs. “I just wish I could help.”
I reach out a hand and find his, hold it. “This is what you signed on for, buddy. Welcome to the shitshow.” I wince. “Sorry, that came out kind of bitter. I’m used to this. It hurts, and I won’t be able to travel. Not today, at least. Maybe not for a few days. Unfortunately for you, there is nothing you can do.”
His frown deepens, becomes not just a frown, but an expression of deep sorrow, angst, and worry. “So I just…have to…I have to just sit here and watch you suffer?”
I smile. “Yup. Welcome to loving someone who’s dying of cancer!” I close my eyes. “God, I’m not handling this well. I get kind of morbid when I’m like this.”
“Please don’t apologize.”
“I just…it’s my way of coping. Sick, dark, disturbing jokes. Sarcasm to hide my bitterness.”
“And you…you don’t want to take the pain meds?”
I shake my head carefully. “No, not yet. I have a limited supply, for one, and I want to save them for when it gets really bad.”
“This isn’t that yet? Really bad, I mean?”
I shake my head. “No, not really. So far this is—” I cut off, grimacing and rolling over as a sharp lance strikes my joints, sending waves of pain radiating through the rest of me. “This is within the range of what I’m used to.”
He hangs his head, hands raking down through his hair to cover his face. “Fuck.”
When the sharpest spike of the pain has dulled to a rolling ache, I roll back toward him, take his hands. “Wes, listen.”
His eyes rise to mine—his are…not quite damp, as in he’s not outright crying, but they glisten with overwhelmed emotion. “I’m listening.”
“I know you didn’t really understand what you were agreeing to, before. You couldn’t. I looked okay, right? On my feet, smiling, all that.” I swallow hard, gulping around the emotional burn of what I’m about to say. “This is the reality, and if you…” I pause, start over. “I’m telling you right now, Wes, it’s not going to get better from here. I’ll still have good days. We’ll have fun. We’ll do more like we did last night. Which was—last night was the best night of my life, bar none, and I could die right now, today, a blissfully happy woman. You gave me such a gift, Wes. You’ll never understand what you gave me, last night.” I blink away tears. “What I’m saying is, you don’t owe me anything further. I know what you said yesterday, but…you have an out, okay? I’m giving you the out. You don’t have to…stay. I know—your pride and your human decency won’t want to let you give up. So I’m not saying, like, just leave me here. But I’ll call Dad and they’ll come get me and take me home, okay? This is more than you could ever be expected to stick around for. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Much less someone as amazing as you.” I taste tears on my lips. “So take the out, okay? You don’t deserve this. What we’ve had so far has already been more than I could have dreamed of. I’m not greedy.” I squeeze his hand, pat it. “You can go, okay? It’s okay.”
He laughs, a bitter bark. Stands up, paces away. Grabs his jeans off the floor and stabs his feet into them, hikes them up, buttons them. Yanks his shirt on, arms and head appearing through the sleeves and neck hole at the same time.
“I’m not leaving.” He has his hand on the doorknob. “I just…I need a minute. To think. To process. To figure out…god, I don’t know. Everything? But I’m not leaving.”
He flips the latch so the door won’t lock him out as it closes, and strides outside barefoot. Hair a mess, eyes red.
God, Wes. I should never have involved him in this. I’m so selfish.
Once he’s gone, I close my eyes and let myself wallow in the agony, emotional and physical. It hurts too much to even move. Breathing hurts. My phone is in my bag, so I can’t even call Dad—I’d need Wes to get my phone for me.
I doze.
I’m woken by a racket, a ruckus of voices overlapping and shouting. I hear Wes’s voice mixed in among them. “One at a time, please. Back up—please back up, give me some space. I’ll sign everything, just please…back up. Okay, yeah, you, miss. What’s your name? Rachel. Hi, Rachel. Here you go. Micah, got it…” and on it goes.
How many people are out there? Sounds like a lot.
“Wes.” I try to raise my voice, but it comes out weak. “Wes!”
I should never have done this.
I try again, but as loud as my voice will go isn’t loud enough to be heard over the clamor of shouted questions and requests.
Finally, after twenty minutes, I hear him raise his voice, sounding panicked, if not quite angry. “I’ve signed everything. I have to—I have to go.” He’s trying to keep his cool. “Thank you, all. Please understand, I have to go, now.”
Instead of Wes coming inside, however, the noise fades, moving down the hallway.
A few minutes later, he bursts through the door in a rush, moves the latch, closes the door with a slam, and locks it. Falls back against it.
“Lost them, finally,” he pants. “God, that was dumb of me. I should know better.”
“What happened?” I ask. “Are you okay?”
He nods, rubbing his face. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a dumbass. I walked straight into the lobby in the middle of the continental breakfast rush, and I got mobbed. I managed to lead them away from the room.” He marches toward the room phone. Dials the front desk. “Hi, this is, uh…Room one-twelve.” A pause, as he listens. “Yeah, it’s really me, which is why there was the commotion a minute ago. I just need to make sure you don’t tell anyone which room I’m in. No one, for any reason. Don’t put any calls through, either. Just play dumb, say you don’t have a guest by that name, or something…Great, thanks. I appreciate it.” Another pause. “Yeah, I’m actually going to need another night. Perfect, thank you.”
He hangs up. Braces his hands on the edge of the nightstand. “That was the last thing I needed. I was just…I was thinking I’d bring you a bagel or something, and I just…I wasn’t thinking.”
“I couldn’t eat anyway, but thank you for thinking of me.”
He pushes away from the nightstand, perches carefully on the edge of the bed. “I want to help you, I just…I don’t know how.”
I smile and pat his knee. “I told you—you can’t. I’m going to be okay, all right? Short term, I mean. I’m not…I’m not going anywhere today, literally or metaphorically. I’m going to need to rest for right now. I may be hungry later, but don’t not eat on my account. You just do whatever you want. Watch TV, or something.”
He hesitates. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you, if you’re resting.”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “By resting, I just mean laying here enduring the crippling agony.” I sniff a sarcastic laugh. “You know, as one does.”