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)
A pilot. I can only picture him in sweats and a tee, not a captain’s uniform.
“And you? What do you do?” I bite my lips together. “Sorry. Of course, you’re …”
Sick?
Dying?
She pours more cereal onto the counter. “I was a flight attendant, and that’s how I met Zach. We had known each other for years before we ended up together. When we met … I was with someone else.”
My eyebrows inch up my forehead. I think this might be a good story.
Popping more cereal into her mouth, she smirks. “It’s not as forbidden as it sounds. Zach is five years younger than me. I didn’t give him a second look when we met because I was over the moon for my first love … Tara. My first soul mate.”
She lets me blink slowly for several seconds before smirking. “Love is fluid for me. Ya know?”
I nod. Maybe I don’t know it precisely as Suzie knows it, but I understand love comes in many forms. Sadly, I’ve felt very little love in my life, not even a mother’s love.
Suzie’s smile wanes. “Tara died of an aneurysm. Just … poof …” Her gaze stays affixed to the cereal. “We had breakfast together. Oatmeal. Berries. Coffee. I kissed her goodbye and headed to the airport. When I landed in Boston that afternoon, I got a call from her boss. An hour after returning from lunch, she …” Tears glisten in her eyes. “Well … it was fast.” Suzie clears her throat. “And that’s how we all deserve to go. My biggest fear isn’t dying; it’s suffering. It’s comforting to believe that Tara didn’t suffer.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I should be working, scrubbing, and thoroughly doing my job, but I can’t move. Suzanne mesmerizes me, and it’s hard to explain. I feel like she thrives on optimism while still keeping reality in focus. But I’m not sure anyone dies quickly from cancer like an aneurysm bursting. And that makes me sad for her.
“Everyone said a year plus one day. That’s how long I needed to grieve Tara before I’d be ready to move on—whatever that really meant. I took a week off work, and I did nothing but look through every photo we’d ever taken together. Some days I didn’t get out of bed; I just stared at photos. An unbearable empty, hollow feeling in my chest. Then I slept so I could dream of us. She never dies in my dreams.” When Suzie glances up at me, I don’t blink. I can’t. “When my time off ended, I packed up all the pictures and put them in a box. All the recent photos on my computer went into a folder on my hard drive. I donated her things, put on my big girl pants, and went back to work. It was a step forward. Sure, I looked back. I still look back. But I took a step. I moved on. A year plus a day, my ass. I don’t think love is expressed through wasted time. What a waste of time to sulk for that long. Sorry … I know I sound insensitive. Everyone’s needs are different. But it pissed me off that everyone else thought they knew what was best for me. Ya know?”
I nod slowly. It’s the only thing I seem to be able to do.
“When I die,” she continues, “I want Zach to give himself a week. Hell, I’d like him to walk away from my grave the day of the funeral and just get on with life, but that’s probably too much to ask. A week is good. After that, I want him to walk out the front door in his uniform, get on a plane, and never look back.”
“You don’t think the chemo is working?”
“At this point, it’s like trying to drive across the country on one tank of gas. I’ll go a while, but I won’t make it the whole way. Even Zach knows it’s when and not if.”
“Are you scared?” I whisper.
“No.” Her face relaxes, and it calms me—but only a bit.
I don’t know why I’m afraid for her; I just am. It’s probably because I’ve thought about my own mortality since the epilepsy diagnosis. Nobody knows how many tanks of gas they have to make it to wherever their final destination is in life.
“Tara is waiting for me. And as crazy as it sounds, my believing that is comforting to Zach too.”
“He’s not jealous? It doesn’t make him feel like Tara was the love of your life and he’s second place?”
Closing the box of cereal, Suzanne winks at me. “I know you’re young, but I’m going to give you a spoiler alert to life. Soulmates are not S O L E mates. Without one, we are not alone. Many souls feed our own. Humans are interchangeable puzzle pieces; we fit into more than one space. I fit with Tara. And I fit with Zach. I’ve never had children. Still, I imagine it’s how a mother can love all her children equally, even if differently. I don’t love Zach more or less than I loved Tara. I love him differently.”