The second first time I saw you, you were carrying a bouquet of flowers for somebody else,” I tell Tommy. His eyes are closed and his breathing is labored, but I know he can hear me. I’ve been sitting on his bed, talking to him since the sun came up this morning, and I don’t plan on stopping even now that it’s starting to set. There’s a pink cast to the room, and I wish he could open his eyes to appreciate it, but they’ve been closed since early yesterday.
I keep talking and rubbing circles with my thumb on the back of his hand in time with his breaths, because if I stop, I’m terrified he will, too.
“I was at Publix looking for aloe and you made some comment about tourists and sunscreen. I turned around, ready to defend my local status, but you caught me off guard. I recognized your eyes before I knew they belonged to you.”
I laugh at the memory, as clear as if it happened just yesterday. “I was so jealous of whatever lucky woman was going to be getting those daisies.”
I hear a noise behind me, and I turn, not letting go of Tommy’s hand. It’s CeCe, standing as close to the room as she can get without actually coming inside. She looks terrified, with her toes at the edge of the door, hanging on to the wall as if she’s standing on unstable ground at the edge of a cliff.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m just talking to Dad; want to come sit with us?”
CeCe bites her lip and shakes her head no.
I nod because I understand and don’t want to push her. Dolly told me it is best to let CeCe process everything in her own way, in her own time.
“CeCe’s here,” I tell Tommy, looking back over my shoulder. “She loves you so much.”
Tommy inhales sharply and exhales a strange, grumbling noise. “It’s okay,” I repeat, both to him and to CeCe, but when I look back behind me, she’s gone.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to finish everything on your list,” I tell Tommy. “I know I gave you a hard time about it, but you knew what you were doing, didn’t you? You always do.”
I bow my head and close my eyes, trying to think of the stories I have left to tell him. We’ve lived a lot of good ones, but there are supposed to be more. In the past few days, I’ve covered them all, some more than once.
“How we doing?” I hear Dolly softly ask.
“He’s doing okay,” I say without lifting my head.
“I’m talking about you, dear.”
I sigh, because the words for how I’m feeling don’t exist. Seeing him like this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Every breath he takes is a struggle; the very thing keeping him alive is causing him pain. With his paper-thin skin, hollow cheeks, and suddenly deep-set eyes, he doesn’t look like himself. It hurts seeing him like this, but it will hurt even more having to say goodbye. I’m not ready.
I hiccup back a sob and Dolly lays a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“We could use some air in here,” she says. “I know Tommy likes the breeze.”
As Dolly opens the window, I hear the familiar creaking of the porch swing swaying back and forth on the other side of the wall. CeCe is out there, strumming Tommy’s old guitar.
The breeze carries her soft voice to us. “Saying I love you,” she sings, her voice wavering.
A tear slides down my cheek and I don’t bother wiping it away. I look down at Tommy and let go of his hand just long enough to lie down beside him. I wrap an arm around his chest and bury my face in his side. I try to keep my eyes open because I don’t want to miss even a second. But my eyelids are so heavy. I’ll just close them for a minute.
“LEXIE, LEX.”
My eyes fly open; it’s dark and I have no idea what time it is.
“Lex,” I hear again.
I prop myself up on an arm and look down at Tommy, whose eyes are open. He looks alert and lucid, focused clearly on me for the first time in days.
“Hey, you,” I whisper back.
His lips look so dry and chapped, they can’t not hurt. I reach for the side table and take an ice cube from the bucket Dolly’s made sure has been full all week. The ice is cold on my fingers, but Tommy smiles when I bring it to his lips.
“Thank you,” he mumbles.
“Want another?” I ask, my hand already reaching toward the bucket.
“Not for that,” he says. “For everything. For marrying me, and making me a dad.”
“Not in that order,” I tease. My eyes well with tears. I’ve missed this—our banter and the sound of his voice. He’s still here, but I already miss him so much it’s hard to breathe.
“Will you tell them for me?” Tommy asks.
“Who?” I whisper.
“We should have danced more,” he says.
I nod, grateful that Dolly warned me it might get like this. I remember her advice: just let him talk, don’t try to make sense of it all. It might not make sense, and that’s okay.
“You made me happy,” he says.
My heart swells. “Not as happy as you’ve made me.”
“Monica’s not so bad, you know,” he says.
I grimace at the mention of her name. She doesn’t belong here, not now.
“We don’t have to talk about her.”
“The baby,” he says so quietly I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or himself.
“Shhh.”
“No,” he says with more force than before. “I want to tell you.”
“I know,” I tell him, kissing his forehead. “You don’t have to tell me again.”
“Our baby. CeCe.”
I take a deep breath, relieved. His lips still look dry, so I bring another ice cube to his lips. Once it’s melted, he looks up at me, locking his eyes with mine.
“I know you think I should hate her for hurting me.” He pauses to take a rough, shallow breath. “I’d go through it all again because it brought me to you.”
He looks at me intently to make sure I’m hearing him, and I am. I’m focused on every word in case this conversation is our last. I don’t want it to be our last.
“I’d go through it all again because it brought me to you.” Tommy pauses for another moment to catch his breath. “I wouldn’t trade our life for anything in the world.”
“I know,” I tell him. “I know.”
“Of the two of us, me and Monica, I’m the one who won.” He inhales sharply and I worry this is too much for him, but he presses on. “Her life hasn’t been easy, and it’s not as perfect as it looks from the outside.”
“Shhh,” I say, partly because I don’t want him to wear himself out, and I don’t want him to waste any more energy on that woman.
“I forgave her a long time ago.”
“We both know you’re a better person than I am,” I tell him.
“Let me finish.”
I nod and take Tommy’s hand in mine, waiting until he’s ready to continue. “There’s been enough sadness. If she can help CeCe, promise me you won’t hold the grudge for me. It was mine, and I let it go.”
I nod, relieved that it’s CeCe, not Monica, who was so important he woke me to talk about. Still, for him, I’ll try not to hate her so much. If he could forgive her, at least I can try. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Tommy Whistler, but I’m so glad you married me.”
“You know,” Tommy says, his voice soft and low, “I used to think you didn’t want to marry me so it would be easier to leave if you needed to run.”
“Never away from you.”
He smiles through the pain of his ragged breaths. “Stay with me tonight?”
“Always,” I promise.
Tommy smiles and as his face relaxes, his breathing does, too. He closes his eyes and I kiss them both before giving the love of my life a kiss good night.