Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Go let Michelle know you’ll stay inside and wait for Suzie to wake up. She’s in the laundry room mending a button on Suzie’s pants.”
I nod while slowly turning, feeling unavoidably weak. Taking two steps, I glance over my shoulder just as he reaches for the switch to turn on the Shop-Vac. “Zach?”
He lifts his head. “Yeah?”
“You’re a good man.”
After a few beats, he gives me a tiny smile.
So handsome.
So unexpectedly kind.
So … broken.
If one’s soul can leave its body before death, I’m certain Zach's soul is slowly slipping away, chasing Suzie’s fading existence in this world. I can’t imagine what that kind of love would feel like.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Michelle finishes her sewing project and leaves just as Zach fills a bucket with soapy water to wash my car. Round two of embarrassment.
I curl up on the paisley blue and white chair in the corner of the bedroom and watch Suzie sleep. She’s so peaceful. What visions fill her dreams? Does she dream of things in this life? A past life? Maybe she dreams of leaving her sick, frail body and reuniting with her previous love.
“Are you going to watch me sleep all day?”
I grin as Suzie’s eyes flutter open. “Only if you’re going to sleep all day.”
She eases onto her side, facing me. “Why the sad face, Em?” Her voice is different. Not as strong. It’s a reminder that she’s dying.
And here I am, adding something to her life that she doesn’t need. Tears burn my eyes, but I will them away while I pull in a slow, deep breath. “Zach caught me at the park.”
Suzie’s eyes narrow, making the carved lines around them deepen even more than her lack of proper nutrition has already done. “Caught you? Were you falling?”
On a tiny grunt, my head inches side to side several times. “He caught me napping in my car.”
Suzie blinks a few times. “Okay …”
Averting my gaze to the side, I blow out a shaky breath before returning my attention to her. “My epilepsy has landed me in the hospital several times. No insurance. And … I had to choose between rent and medication. And student loan debt is on top of that as well. So I’ve been temporarily living out of my car. But before you decide how to react to this, just know it’s not the first time I’ve lived out of my car. And the fact is I have a car and a job. So I’m not as homeless or … desperate as it might seem. I’m actually quite fine. This is temporary. Nothing lasts forever. Right? I mean …” My nerves have hijacked my thoughts and sent jumbled words spilling from my lips. “It doesn’t make me less courageous. If anything, it’s made me more courageous and resilient. So …” I bite my lips together to stop the incessant rambling.
Something changes in Suzie’s expression. I can’t decipher it. Easing to sitting, with her back against the padded headboard, she folds her bony, wrinkled hands on her lap. “Okay.”
I wait for more.
She doesn’t say more.
One word. That’s it.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Did Zach offer you one of our guest rooms?”
I nod slowly. “He … well … he thought you’d insist I stay, but I’m fine. I don’t need to—”
With another wistful smile, she nods once. “Then you’ll stay as long as you need to stay.”
“That’s just it. I don’t need to stay.”
She shrugs, her body slumped, her smile weak. “Then don’t. But make the decision that’s best for you and Harry. Don’t let your ego make the decision. Don’t let pride rob you of the chance to have a bed, a shower, air-conditioning, and more time with your feeble friend before she dies. I would’ve been too proud. Don’t be me. Be better. Live better. Embrace humility because it will make you stronger than the most stubborn pride.”
“Suzie …” Now the emotions come. I won’t cry for me, but I’m not strong enough to hide my feelings about the inevitability of losing her. In one blink, a half dozen tears escape all at once, and I brush them away just as quickly.
“It’s fate.”
I shake my head. There’s no fate in cancer. No fate in dying young. It’s tragic. She doesn’t want to hear that from me because I'm her escape until it’s physically impossible for her to escape the end. If mind over matter gives her a few more breaths, maybe several extra days or weeks toward the end, then swallowing—choking—on my real emotions and suffering this chronic heartache is worth it.
“Fate’s a courageous word.” I sniffle and wipe my eyes one more time while making my way to the bed and crawling up next to her.
She takes my hand, interlacing our fingers and resting her other hand over them. “Zach is going to struggle with this.”
This. She’s referring to her death.