“Okay, baby,” he says quietly, once again squeezing my hand.
I look over at him.
“Aren’t you going to say something, tell me how stupid I am for running, beg me to go back?”
“No Val, I’m not,” he says quietly. “I’m just going to go with you wherever you want to go, and I’m going to be there for however long you want me to be there.”
“Stop the car,” I yell suddenly, and the driver screeches to a surprised halt right in the middle of the road. I get out and stumble away.
“Val,” Logan pleads, grabbing my arm. I turn around in his arms, and I start beating on his chest with my fists as angry tears fall down my face.
“Stop being so fucking nice,” I scream at him. “Why are you still here? Why do you three want to watch me die so fucking bad?”
He grips both of my arms and gives me a small shake. “You think I want to watch you die? That’s what’s going on in your head?” He lets go of me and throws his hands up in the air. “I watch your chest rise and fall when you’re not looking. I can’t sleep at night because when I close my eyes, I see you on that surgery table. We’re here because we’re all so fucking selfish that we can’t bear to just let you go. Our love story isn’t supposed to end with you fading away into the distance. We’ve always had to fight for this, and I just wanted you to fight for us one more time.”
He grabs his hair, pulling so hard, I’m surprised he doesn’t pull it out when he finally lets it go. Taking a deep breath, he grabs my hands and pulls me back to him. “But if that’s not what you want, then I’ll hold your hand and I’ll watch you die, even though it means that I’ll die too.” He lets go of my hand and smooths my hair away from my face, taking my face in his hands. “There’s no other sadness that I want in this world, other than yours, Val. I’d do anything not to lose you, but I promised myself at the beginning of this journey that this time, I would follow you no matter where you went, and this is no different.”
He puts his forehead on mine, and for the first time, I wonder if fate doesn’t hate me.
Because this love sure does seem like the kind of miracle that could only happen to the luckiest of people.
A once in a lifetime surgery suddenly doesn’t seem so daunting in the face of a once in a lifetime love.
Back at the hotel, with the surgery still going forward, I write a letter to them.
I tell them to be brave. I tell them to find a way someday to let me go enough to find happiness again. I tell them that their love was the greatest privilege of my life. I write until my hand cramps, while they pretend to sleep nearby.
Soulmates are eternal. Be it in this life or the next, I will always love you, I write.
My words aren’t enough to tell them what I feel, but it’s all that I have left. And I guess that just has to be enough.
Morning comes too soon, even though I didn’t sleep at all. I’m getting dressed when my phone buzzes on the nightstand. Looking over, I see that it’s my mother. I don’t pick up, since I’ve run out of words to say. The phone finally stops buzzing, and a beep signals that she’s left a voicemail.
Trembling, I pick it up and hold it to my ear.
“Valentina, I know you were fighting against this decision. And maybe me pushing you to do it made you not want to talk to me. But I just wanted you to know that I love you. I only wanted what was best for you. You will survive this. You are your father’s daughter, Princess. You’re a fighter, the best parts of him in every way.” She takes a deep breath in the message, and I can hear the emotion in her voice, something that I’ve experienced so rarely, it catches me off guard. “Kara and I will be here when you wake up. Because you will wake up. You’re too stubborn not to. I love you,” she says again quietly, and then the voicemail ends.
I can count on one hand the times that my mother has told me she loves me. So it hits me hard.
I turn and see Quaid leaning against the door, watching me.
“You called her,” I hush out tiredly.
“I did. She and Kara are on their way. They’ll both be here when you wake up.”
They’ve all been careful to use terms like that. When you wake up. When we’re back home. When we start our life together. Who knew the word ‘when’ could have so much power?
“Thank you,” I tell him quietly, and his shoulders drop with relief.
I feel better somehow, too. Her voicemail was a closure that I didn’t know I needed. And if I never wake up, at least she was able to say what she wanted to say. And I actually let myself hear it.
A quick look at my phone shows that it’s time to leave. There are no butterflies today. There are just rocks, sitting in my body, where my stomach should be.
We don’t say anything in the car ride to the hospital. I gave them the letter this morning, telling them to read it when I go in for the surgery. I’m glad that they will have it, because my tongue feels like it’s made of lead and I know that I would never have been able to give them the pieces of my soul that they deserve right now.
I hold hands with Carter as we walk, Logan and Quaid right by us. Each step feels like a monumental effort. I’m really tired. I’m tired of my head hurting. I’m tired of my hands shaking. I’m tired of forgetting words and moments.
I’m just tired.
The hallway spins briefly as we walk through it, and I have to stop and hold on to Carter’s hand.
“Are you alright?” he asks worriedly, and I nod, even though I know that I’m not.
My nose starts bleeding then, and Carter lets go of my hand to run ahead to make sure the front desk is ready for me. As soon as I get there, a wheelchair is brought out for me and I’m wheeled to a room. It’s a clinical, white color, except for one pink pillow. For some reason, I fixate on that pillow, not paying attention to anything going on around me.
I change into a hospital gown, needing the help of Quaid to do it. I stare at my reflection in the mirror as he ties my gown. For a second, I close my eyes and let myself imagine that wildflower wedding again and Quaid’s hands on my back for a different reason.
A dizzy spell hits me as soon as I open my eyes though, and Quaid has to pick me up to walk me back in the room. I start giggling nonsensically because he’s carrying me over a threshold of sorts, just not one that I ever envisioned.
Or might ever get.
My giggling changes to tears as it often has these last few days. “I’m scared,” I admit to the three of them.
And they nod, because they’re scared too.
A nurse comes in to put the sensors on me. A steady beeping of the machine fills the room, permeating the heavy silence between us.
Another nurse comes in. “Ready to go?” she asks, all friendly like, as if she’s taking me to my massage instead of my most probable death.
I panic.
This is it.
I’ve run out of time.
“Don’t forget to read that letter,” I tell them urgently, not able to let go of Carter’s or Logan’s hands. “Don’t forget,” I beg again, but this time, I think they understand that I’m asking for them not to forget much more than reading that letter.
“See you soon,” Carter says firmly, a million other words in his gaze. Logan opens his mouth to say something else, and I shake my head.