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)
He glances over his shoulder and offers me a sad smile, standing again to give me the space next to her. “Look who’s here? And she found your dreamcatcher.” Zach rests the dreamcatcher on the flat top to their padded headboard just above her.
Her head slowly tips back to see it. “It’s for you, silly,” she says in a weak, pained voice. “P-put it on your side.”
Dagger to my heart …
Of course it’s for him. It’s so he only dreams of her life, not her death.
Her comment obviously catches Zach off guard because he swallows hard and clears his throat as I approach the bed.
“Here,” he says, extracting a dose of morphine from the bottle on her nightstand and syringing it into her mouth—which means she doesn’t have long before she’s disoriented and groggy again. He shuffles around to the other side to move the dreamcatcher as Suzie pats the edge of the mattress. I take a seat.
“Thank you,” she whispers. She’s speaking with the most clarity I’ve heard from her in the past week. Again, she’s giving us hope. False hope.
I nod, allowing hope back into my heart as my jaw remains locked to keep from losing it.
If Zach looks fifty, Suzie looks eighty right now. There’s nothing flattering about one’s organs shutting down. There’s nothing flattering about starvation and dehydration. Yet, I, like Zach, see the beautiful woman beneath the thin, wrinkled skin that’s awfully gray and mottled tonight.
“The answer is yes,” she says in a raspy tone.
I narrow my eyes. “What answer?”
She feels for my hand, and I give it to her. Pulling our hands to her chest, she rests them there, a frail smile pulling at her dry lips. “You know. We talked about it. Wh-when the question pops into your head someday…” she blinks heavily “…you’ll know the answer is yes.”
The only thing worse than a ghost haunting me is living with the answer to an unknown question. We talked about many things. I can’t think right now. Something tells me a million questions will pop into my busy mind in the future. Is she saying the answer to everything is yes?
“Okay.” I nod. That’s what you do for people on their deathbed. You agree to absolutely anything without question.
Take care of my ten cats.
Don’t get a tattoo.
Follow your dreams.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Of course. Anything to grant a dying wish.
She’s not dying!
My heart and my head battle with so many emotions.
“And keep an eye on Zach.”
I glance up at Zach as he takes way more time than should be required to lay that dreamcatcher on the headboard. Those jaw muscles of his pulse as he flexes them. It’s his turn to fight all the emotions that a forever goodbye creates. I’m twenty-three, so I can only imagine, but what I do imagine is the definition of unimaginable.
What does he think of her request for me to keep an eye on him? I’m sure he’s thinking, “Just what I need, the maid keeping an eye on me.”
To appease all parties involved, I return a simple nod before leaning down to hug her. Is this it? Is this the last time I’ll see her alive? How will I know when she’s dead? Will Zach come tell me? Will I hear him crying? Will an ambulance come to get her body? Maybe a text is sufficient, so I’ll know when it’s okay to come out of my room. It’s not like I can ask him now, right here in front of her.
“Yo. Mind shooting me a text when she passes?”
Grief and fear do weird things to a person. I can’t believe this shit is going through my mind. I don’t even say the word yo.
I should feel grateful that I’m only losing it on the inside. Outwardly, I’ve managed to present the resemblance of an emotionally stable human being.
It’s time. Goodbye is not the word I want to say. I said it to my mom, knowing I might never see her again. But I can’t say it to Suzie. And it’s silly if I’m going to see her in the morning anyway.
“Okay,” Suzie whispers. “You say o-okay when you d-don’t know what else to say. It’s … i-it’s acceptance.”
I squeeze her hand, not wanting to accept her impending death.
She returns a weak squeeze. “You don’t … have … to l-like it. I accept my fate … b-but I don’t like it.”
Zach clears his throat, sitting on the opposite side of the bed with his back to us. Is he hiding his emotions too?
I slowly stand and just as slowly release her hand. Tears fill my eyes again, so I know it’s time to leave. “Okay.”
“Okay,” she repeats.
I turn and blink, setting free a new round of silent tears as I exit their bedroom, holding my breath until my chest burns.