I take a minute to look behind me and find six nurses, some that I’ve never seen, and four doctors standing behind the desk. There are tears in the eyes of the nurses and curious stares on the faces of the doctors. Some are even smiling.
“Dirk?” I look back at Saylor, who is waiting for my thoughts on Marcus. Hell, I didn’t even know the boy. All I knew was that he couldn’t have been out of his teens, and always asked for extra Skittles.
But Saylor wants something, so even if I have to make it up, I’m going to give it to her. When determination steps in, she is impossible to argue with. But, I do remember something about Marcus, and it’s not a lie.
“He always made you smile.” I watch Saylor fall more in love with me. She nods, brushing her tears from her eyes and laughing before leaning down to write my answer.
“Yes, he did.” When she looks back up, she is even more determined as she looks at the doctors and nurses. I move out of the way so she has a full view of them. “I don’t care how long you say I have left. As long as I live, I will honor every person I share this room with if they leave here before I do. So, either you can jump on the celebration-of-life bandwagon, or you can be soul-sucking, coldhearted demons. It’s your choice.”
I feel my dick swell in my jeans. It’s wrong. Fuck, it’s wrong. But I can’t help it. When Saylor takes on bitch mode, it makes me horny as hell.
Dr. Marks, who I haven’t heard say one word ever since I’ve known him, walks up to Saylor and squats down at the side of her chair. “You, Saylor Samson, are an incredible young woman. The world needs more people like you.” He kisses her cheek, then shares his favorite thing about Marcus.
By the time her treatment is finished, Saylor’s poster board is full. On our way out, she stops to tape it to the wall for everyone to see. When I open the door for her, I glance up and see the signatures at the bottom, including my own, with a title above it that reads In Loving Memory of Marcus.
Saylor is sent home Saturday morning. When we arrive, the house is full of people waiting for us. Donnawayne, Jeffery, Shady, Rookie, and Carrie. Knowing that this might be the only good day she has this week, we take the time to do something she wants. And what she wants is to go bowling. So that’s what we do.
Saylor wears another one of her head scarves and even puts makeup on. Donnawayne assists her in drawing on fake eyebrows and even though she is superthin, she looks like herself. I try to encourage her not to overdo it, but she stops me by saying, “The bad days are gonna be bad regardless, so I’m gonna enjoy the good while I can.” So I just shut up and kiss her.
We bowl and eat, and I show Saylor how to shoot pool. I don’t let her win, because she asked me not to. And by the fifth game, I’m trying like hell to beat her. When she lines up a perfect combination shot and puts just the right amount of English on it to sink the eight ball, I know I’ve been hustled. “My teenage years were spent in a pool hall. It’s kinda my thing,” she tells me. Little shit.
It’s after midnight before we get home, and I’m more exhausted than Saylor is, although I don’t let her see it. We shower together, then lay down, and I rub Saylor’s back while she writes in her diary, trying to fight the heaviness of my eyelids.
“You want a back massage?” Saylor asks, and I’m reminded once again how unselfish she is.
“No, baby. But I’ll massage yours,” I offer, thinking that would wake me up and have me beating off in the bathroom.
“Turn over,” she says, jumping out of bed and disappearing into the bathroom. She comes back holding a bottle of lotion and makes a motion with her finger for me to turn over. “Please?” she begs, poking her lip out, and I can’t argue with that face.
I roll onto my stomach and Saylor climbs on top of me, her weight barely noticeable. When she digs her fingers deep into my shoulders, I can’t help my moan of appreciation.
“I know you’re exhausted. I know you’re tired and sore and I know the sacrifices you are making for me. And I don’t know if I’ve told you, but thank you.” Her thanks aren’t necessary, but it feels good to hear her say it.
“There is no place I’d rather be, and nothing else I’d rather do.” I wish I could look at her when I say this, but she knows the sincerity of my words. And as I drift, not only do I feel her hands on me, but she is singing and her voice is the perfect ending to this perfect day.
—
Sunday morning I wake up to the bed shaking. I picture Saylor jumping on it, trying to get my attention, and smile. But then, I feel something hit my back. And again. And I turn over to find Saylor seizing beside me with white foam running out the side of her mouth.