He pulls me in, and I try to fight him, but I’m too spent now. “I wish I could . . . ,” he says.
“No, no, no. Don’t say that! Don’t say that! Please, just this one thing! You’re magic; you can find a way.” Now I am crying again, because I know that I’m being crazy and asking the impossible.
“I would do anything for you. I would. This just isn’t something I can fix. God, I’m so sorry.”
I fall apart. For hours, I cry and choke on anguish while Esben holds me. Eventually, my tears give out, my voice goes, and my throat is so raw that my body battles against my mind and shuts down my crying. There is nothing left in me now.
CHAPTER 25
RESCUE
It takes three weeks before I become emotionally functional again. Though I’ve been going to class and getting my work done, outside of that, I’ve alternated between being numb and grief-stricken. The wind has been knocked out of me, and it’s taking forever to breathe again, but I’m trying. I know it’s what Steffi wants. She would hate knowing the impact her illness is having on me, so I’ve got to pull myself out of this despondency however I can. Kerry and Carmen have both been great, being patient with me and letting me cry when I need to. It’s so important that I have these new friends, but I am constantly reminding myself that I’m not replacing her with either of them. That thought does try to push through more often than I’d like, though. And Esben’s friends Jason and Danny are bear-hugging me so often that I’m surprised I’m not bruised. And with each bit of comfort I’m offered, I think how Steffi has no one comforting her. Just because that’s her own doing and her conscious choice doesn’t make her isolation any easier to swallow.
Three days after Steffi called me, I told Simon. He’s been wanting to come up, but I’ve been putting him off. It almost feels as though seeing him would make me break down again, because our shared love for her is so great.
I wake up this Saturday morning in February, and I’m determined to treat it like any normal day. I must.
The spare room is again full of unopened packages from Simon, and the scene reeks of emotional backlog. It’s time to clear out some of my pain, so I start with something simple and open the biggest box first.
A few days after Steffi’s call, I learned I’d smashed the coffeemaker and glass pot and also overturned the minifridge, shattering bottles inside. I don’t remember this, and Esben cleaned everything up before I saw the shambles I’d created. I think I broke more than I know, but I really don’t care. The coffeemaker, however, I have actually missed, and every time I automatically look for it and it’s not there, I am hit with yet another reminder and another hit of pain.
Methodically, I now unbox the new coffeemaker and mugs and set them up. Everything looks as it did before, but that’s just a trick of the eye, because nothing is the same.
I will be brave. I will be brave. I will be brave.
I will keep going.
It’s still early enough in the day for me to feel as though it’s salvageable. That maybe I can try for one day in which I don’t break down every minute. Esben left while I was still sleeping, and I’m not sure where he’s gone. I spend an hour cleaning up my space, changing the sheets, taking a shower, and drying my hair, and then I make a pot of coffee, as though my entire soul is not shredded.
It’s a little after eleven when Esben lets himself into my room, still shaking snow from his hair.
He brightens when he gets a look at me. “Hey, baby. You look good.”
“I showered and put on something besides sweatpants.” I try to smile. “I figure it had to happen sometime.”
Esben hangs up his coat and then takes me in his arms. “I know this is a nightmare.” He rubs my back for a bit. “Still nothing?”
He checks in all the time, even though we both know that I won’t hear from Steffi.
I lean against him and shake my head. “No.”
Every day, I call her. Every single day. I’ve been hoping that she’ll change her mind, that she’ll let me in, but she won’t pick up my calls, and I always go right to voice mail. Half the time, I leave messages, and half the time, I don’t, because none of my words so far have changed her mind. I’ve had Esben and Simon try to call her, too, but she’s simply cut herself off from the world. Her social-media accounts are all shut down, and e-mails bounce back as undeliverable.
I take a very long breath. “I think it’s time to stop. This is what she wants. I have to accept it.”
“Yes, I think so,” he says gently.
“But I imagine what she’s going through, how she’s feeling. I wonder if she’s in pain, who is taking care of her.” It hurts to breathe when I say this. “How bad things are now. How . . .” I start to choke up. “How long she has. Is she scared? Is she lonely, sad, angry? Will . . .”
God, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. That I have to prepare myself this way.
“Do you think someone will call me when . . . when she’s gone?”
“Yes. I’m positive. Steffi will make sure of that.” The confidence in Esben’s voice helps to reassure me some.
“Steffi has always been like a selfless mother who would do anything to take care of her child. She has always worried about me, watched over me, more than she would let me worry about and watch over her. Always. It’s not right. I got to save her from pain once before, when I ripped that guy off of her. I want to do the same now. Rip the cancer out of her. Rip the hurt away. Esben, I would trade places with her in a heartbeat, I would.”
“I know you would. But this is who she is, and you can’t change that, especially not now. How she’s handling this is her choice. If pushing you away and taking this on alone gives her some kind of comfort, then you need to allow her that.”
I nod and focus on staying calm. “I need distraction. I need to think about something besides this. Just for a while.”
“Okay. What do you want to do?”
The feel of being in his arms, the now-familiar safety, makes me want more. More of him. So, I lift my mouth to his and kiss him. “This. I want to do this.” My hands rub over the front of his shirt, up to his shoulders, and then I untuck his shirt.
Esben catches his breath when I move my hand to the front of his pants. “Allison, you sure? We haven’t since . . . since that morning.”
I touch my lips and tongue to his neck, and, in one quick movement, Esben picks me up, and I clamp my legs around his waist while he carries me to the bedroom. His touch, his sound, the way he moves and breathes and makes me feel so alive are exactly what I need. Instead of losing myself in him and in making love, I do the opposite. I find myself again.
After, while I rest on his chest and my body is still racing, he asks, “You doing okay?”
“I think so. As much as I can be.” I roll onto my stomach and hold myself up on my arms. “I feel better than I did earlier today.”