Slide over,” I whisper, crawling into the hospital bed that’s turned our living room into a dying room.
“What are you doing?” Tommy asks through a yawn.
“It’s lonely upstairs.”
Tommy lifts his arm and I curl into his side, my head on his chest, the way we’ve lain for thousands of nights together. My head rises and falls along with his chest, and I try to block out the hollow rattle. His breaths are getting harder and harder to take.
I can’t.
I prop my arm up and lean my head against my hand so I can look down at him. My husband.
In the week since the wedding, not much has changed. I don’t know what I expected to be different—we have a daughter, a house, a life together. We’ve practically been married for the last fifteen years. We would have been, if I hadn’t been so damn stubborn.
Tommy reaches up and brushes his hand over my cheek. “What are you looking at?”
“My husband.” The word feels strange on my lips, but I like it.
“My wife,” Tommy says.
“I would hate us if we weren’t us,” I say. “So cheesy.”
“Mmm, cheese.”
I laugh. “You want some?”
“Nah, you’d have to get out of bed. And I like having you here with me.”
“It’ll just take a minute.” I pull the blanket back and climb out of the hospital bed that isn’t meant for two.
Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I quietly open the fridge. It feels like we’re sneaking around, although there’s nothing wrong with eating cheese in bed with my husband. My husband. I’m too old to swoon, but I can’t help myself.
I slide the cheese drawer open and consider the options, grabbing two sticks of string cheese before going back to my husband.
Turning the corner into the living room, I wave the cheese sticks around like they’re the glow sticks people dance with at those raves Becky goes to.
“Tommy?” I whisper when he doesn’t react. “Babe?” I hold my breath and lean closer until I see his chest rise ever so slightly. He’s just asleep. Thank god.
I put the string cheese on the coffee table and climb back in bed next to him. I yawn and reluctantly close my eyes.
Sometime later, I feel his hand on my shoulder, his breath in my ear. “I missed the cheese.”
“Hmm?” I mumble, not fully awake.
“The cheese. I’m sorry.”
I open my eyes and turn to face him. It’s not quite morning yet; the room is still dark. “It’s still here if you want it.” He shakes his head and I reach out to stroke his cheek, the stubble rough against my fingers. “Can I get you something else?”
“All of the papers, everything you’ll need is in the top left drawer of my office at home. For the house, insurance, my will.”
“We don’t have to talk about this now.”
“I think we do.”
My breath catches in my throat. “I’m not ready.”
“What was the quote Gran had embroidered on that pillow?” he asks before taking a labored breath. “‘You’re braver than you think, stronger than you seem’?”
I smile at his mention of my grandmother. I’m not sure how much of the heaven story I believe, but I hope she’ll be there to greet him, wherever he’s going.
But he’s wrong, I’m not strong. I lean down and kiss his lips. “You’re the strong one.” I kiss him again. “You’re the brave one, the kind one.” Another kiss. “You’re the calm one, and the patient one.”
He lifts his hand, bringing his finger to my lips, stopping me. “I’m also the selfish and the stubborn one,” he says. “But I guess love filters the way you see people.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone who knows you would agree with me,” I tell him. “Then again, to know you is to love you.”
“Oh, stop,” Tommy says with a smile.
“I believe you told me once that the proper response to a compliment is to say thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kisses my forehead and I try to memorize the way it feels, his lips on my skin, his hand on my hip.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” I whisper. “It’s not fair that I have to go on without you.”
“You’re right,” Tommy says. The softness is gone from his voice and it chills me to the core. “None of this is fair—it’s not fair that I won’t be able to grow old and gray with you. That I’m going to miss seeing the amazing woman CeCe’s on her way to becoming. It’s not fair that I won’t be here to play with our grandchildren and laugh about how much they remind us of CeCe at their age. None of it’s fair.”
The tears I’ve been holding back come crashing down in fits and waves. I give up trying to control them and let my body shake with grief. Tommy pulls me closer, running his hands over my hair, trying to comfort me when I should be comforting him. “Shhh,” he says as he rocks me back and forth like a baby. “Shhh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He holds me until my tears run dry and my head hurts as much as my heart does. “I’m sorry,” I tell him this time. I wipe snot away from my nose, hoping this isn’t the last picture he’ll have of me in his mind. “I told you I was the selfish one.”
Tommy brushes the tears from my cheeks. “You’re the only one. My only one.” He kisses my eyes, then both sides of my face before his lips find mine. His kisses are hungry in a way they were when we were young and in love and thought we had forever.
I still want forever.