Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
I couldn’t contain the rush of air that left my lungs. We’d reached the park, but instead of walking, I led Christopher to a stone bench between two trees. As soon as we sat, I pulled him against me.
We sat there in silence for a long time, but I never loosened my hold on him, and his grip on me never wavered.
“What made you decide to come home?” I asked. “You were just starting your treatment at that time, right?”
Christopher nodded. “When the count went up instead of down, I knew I needed to go home. Even if I couldn’t be with my family the way I wanted, knowing they were nearby helped. It reminded me that I had something to live for. But I still wasn’t willing to put them through the not knowing what was going to happen. It’s something that consumes my thoughts day in and day out. I look at things like these trees, but I can’t see their beauty. All I can think about is will I be here next year to see them? It’s like that with so many things.”
“Christopher…” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Is that’s why it’s so hard for you to see your family?”
Christopher let out a half sob and nodded. “Every time I see any one of them, I just want to tell them the truth so they can tell me I’ll be okay, that I’ll be here next year.”
I closed my arms around Christopher hard and kissed the top of his head as he sobbed against my chest. “You will be here next year, do you hear me? And the year after that and the year after that. You’re going to be around to help me to remember to put my dentures in, and you’re going to yell all the stuff from the news into my ear because I can’t hear the damn thing and am too stubborn to get a hearing aid. Do you hear me?” I asked almost angrily.
Christopher nodded despite the fact that he was still crying. When we’d both managed to calm down, Christopher sat up and used his sleeve to wipe at his eyes. “Do tears on the first date mean there probably won’t be a second?” he said with a laugh. He seemed a little lighter. Some of the color was returning to his skin, and his eyes seemed brighter.
“The way I heard it is that whoever cries on the first date is the one who has to propose.”
The comment had Christopher laughing. He leaned against my side and put his head on my shoulder.
“Where do things stand now with your count?” I asked. I hated to have to bring the issue up, but I needed to know. Not just so I could support him but so I could join him on that roller coaster that had two potential outcomes.
“It’s stayed the same despite changing the medications. Dr. Kleinman added in a couple more drugs. I get tested next week to see what the count is. If it hasn’t gone down… I guess… I guess I don’t know what will happen then. My life has kind of been on hold, so I haven’t enrolled in the BSN program, and I haven’t gotten my RN license. Why start something I might not be able to finish?”
We both fell silent. A gamut of emotions was coursing through me. It reminded me of the seven stages of grief. I was certainly dealing with several of them, including bargaining, anger, and denial. I understood why Christopher didn’t want to put his family through this, but I also knew they would want to know so they could support him. Not knowing and pretending life was normal or trying to figure out why their loved one had returned home so very different had to be nearly as torturous as dealing with the truth.
It wasn’t a decision I could make for him. I could only decide for myself how I’d deal with it, and that didn’t even require any thought.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
But I was also clueless as to how to help Christopher. It was just one big waiting game.
“Tell me what you need me to do, Christopher,” I said as I held his hand and stared at the people across the street who were going on about their lives while the beautiful young man next to me waited to see what his own future would be… or if he even had one. If we had one.
Christopher sighed and squeezed my hand.
“You’re doing it, Rush. You’re doing it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHRISTOPHER
I was nervous.
No, not nervous.
Terrified.
I’d only been in the nervous stage for the last half an hour of our day of sightseeing. The terrified part had come in shortly after we’d returned the Harley to the hotel parking lot and checked on Rush’s bunnies.