He lets me know with his body how very much I mean to his heart. He whispers his love into my ear, he moans it against my flesh, he strains with it between my legs.
And when our release finally comes, and Nate is buried deep within my body, I hold him to me with every ounce of strength I can muster. I draw him into me—his body, his seed, his love—and tuck away the memory of it, far into one corner of my mind, knowing that every breath and every heartbeat we share are some of the best of my life.
And some of the last.
Seven
Someday Just Might Be Tonight
Lena
Six weeks.
It’s already been six whole weeks since we left the States. To me, it feels like the blink of an eye. London, Paris, Germany, Switzerland—I’ve explored them all with my favorite person by my side, and each location was just as amazing as I expected. While it could be my mindset, the kind rife with the determination to enjoy every millisecond Nate and I are afforded, I suspect that Europe is, all in all, just a great place, full of beauty and charm.
The only less-than-ideal moments begin on our first morning in Rome when I wake to a debilitating bout of nausea. Since being diagnosed, it has never been this bad. My heart fills with dread and disappointment.
Again, I pray. I pray that it is transient. Maybe even something I ate. Because I know that if it is related to the progression of my disease, it will officially end our vacation. I know I won’t be able to go on like this for six more weeks. And that makes me feel emotionally sick.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call for some crackers or some juice? I think if you get something on your stomach it—”
With eyes still closed in an effort to keep from having to race to the bathroom again and heave up nothing more than bile, I reach out until I feel Nate’s hands. I take his fingers, fingers taut with the helplessness I know he’s feeling, and I quiet him.
“No, but thank you. It won’t help. This is…this is just part of it.” It’s all I can do to keep my voice strong, without waver. I turn my face further into my pillow, hoping he won’t be able to see the fine tremble of my chin. It’s one of the many things about my body that has sprinted beyond my control—my emotions.
“I know, baby, but…” Nate kneels by the side of the bed, resting his mouth against our entwined hands. “I just thought we had more time. I thought for just these three months, we’d be enough ahead of it that you wouldn’t feel this way. I just wanted to give you a few weeks of peace and freedom and happiness. Three months of perfection.”
I crack an eye and find my husband’s worried gaze on my face. “I know you did. I had hoped for the same thing, but the progression is unpredictable. Doctors can estimate and give educated guesses, but no one really knows. Maybe this will pass, though. Let’s just wait and see. Give it a few days. We don’t have to give up yet.”
“I know,” he sighs. “It just…I’m just… It makes me mad as hell. Can’t we have this? Christ Almighty, can’t we just have this?”
I’m surprised by his sudden burst of anger. Nate hasn’t gotten angry even once since the diagnosis.
Maybe he’s due.
Still, my response is calm. I don’t need to add fuel to his fire. “I hope so. I’ll do everything I can to make it work out for us, babe.”
He visibly deflates. “That’s not what I meant.” Another sigh, another shake of his head. “I don’t want you to be dragging yourself around Italy, Greece, and Prague feeling like shit just because you think this is what I want. I can still give you the royal treatment at home, where you’re more comfortable. I just…I just wanted to give you this. Give you Europe.”
“I know. And I love you for it.”
At the mention of home, I feel a stab of wistfulness. I’d give anything to be in my own bed, surrounded by my own things. Everyone is like that when they’re sick. But I would never tell Nate that. This trip is as much for him as it is for me. Maybe even more so.
I didn’t need this. Not really. Soon, I’ll be gone, floating in a void on some other plane where memories have no place. But Nate will remain. He will benefit the most from a big stash of wonderful memories, things to detract from the awful ones that we both know are coming. He’ll need a million good things to overcome the bad because they are bound to be very bad.
So it is for Nate that I smile.
“As long as I’m with you, I’m happy. Let’s just lounge around for a while today and see how I feel later. Maybe go get some authentic Italian food for dinner. How’s that sound?”
The thought of greasy Italian food makes my stomach roil, but I hold my expression steady. For Nate. I’d walk through fire for him. Fighting through some nausea ought to be a walk in the park. And maybe, later, it will be. But right now… I’m miserable.