Crossing back to the window, I turn on my phone’s camera, flick it to video, and switch the perspective until my face pops up on the screen. I position it in just such a way that the breathtaking towers at my back can be seen in the shot, and then I hit record.
There’s a long pause before I start talking. For an instant. I wonder if I should’ve taken some time to think of what I’d like to say, but rather than stopping, I simply speak from the heart, smiling directly into the camera.
“Hello, my beautiful child. I just found out about you today. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see you to tell you this in person, but I hope you get to see this. I want you to know that you made me so happy today. You changed everything. For the better. Already. I don’t even know if you’ll be a boy or a girl, but I feel complete today.
“I’ve wanted you for all of my life. All of it! I’ve dreamed of feeling you kick for the first time. I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms for the first time. I’ve dreamed of what your face might look like—your smile, your hands, your little feet. You’ll be perfect, I know. I know in my heart that you’ll be the most perfect thing in the world. The best thing I’ve ever done. And I’ll die happy if I can see you just one time before I go.” I sniff, trying to hold back the tears that sting my eyes. “I love you. Today. Tomorrow. Always.”
I hold my wavering smile for a few seconds and then hit the red button to stop the recording. Covering my mouth, I sink to my knees, cupping my belly with my free hand, and I pray.
For all I’m worth, I pray.
********
Nate
Waking to an empty bed is hard. When I roll over, the first thing I do is look for my wife, only she isn’t there. The covers have been thrown back, and the sheets are rumpled yet cold. She hasn’t been in bed for quite some time.
My first thought is that she’s sick again, so I run to the bathroom. The door is open, and the interior is dark.
Empty.
At this point, I should be relieved not to have found her crouched in front of the toilet, heaving what’s left inside her stomach. But I’m not.
Instead, I feel panic.
For an instant, my worst fear plays out in my mind.
What if something has happened and she’s dead?
What if she suffered some rare complication and she woke up in the middle of the night, in distress, and died before I could help her?
What if she’d tried to wake me and couldn’t?
What if she got out of bed and fell to the floor then passed away, all alone?
Jesus God!
My pulse throbs like a prized stallion at the track as I race to the adjoining room in search of my Lena.
Relief, bone-melting relief floods me when I spot her. My frantic gaze sweeps by the couch and stops. I see the familiar form of my wife, curled on her side, fast asleep.
I listen to the soft swish of her breathing and count to ten, calming my erratic heart rate. I remind myself that there is no reason to think that I’ll one day wake to find her dead, unexpectedly. Cancer is, if anything, somewhat predictable when it comes to the end. At least it should be in a case like Lena’s. I’ve read the reports. I’ve heard the stories. I know it’s likely going to be slow and agonizing, and that it will end in a coma before she actually slips away.
But still…the thought of finding her already gone…of losing her sooner rather than later…
I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing the tightness in my chest and the worry in my head to the back of my consciousness. Ruthlessly, I cram those godforsaken skis back into the closet.
I can’t let my emotions ruin what time we have left. I won’t do that. Not to Lena. She deserves the very best of me—the strongest, the surest, the most confident—right up until she draws her last breath, and I’m damn sure going to give that to her. I’ll put on a brave face, a happy face, for her. I’ll never let her know that nearly every one of my thoughts are centered on losing her, on the gaping emptiness that will haunt me for the rest of my days.
I can’t let her know that.
I can’t let her know that I already know the panic that will move in to occupy my stomach. I can’t let her know that I already know the overwhelming heartbreak I’ll feel. I can’t let her know that I already know that, one day, I’ll die still feeling devastated and lost and alone.
Only half alive without her.
Despite having found her, safe and breathing and still with me, I can’t shake the feeling of fear and dread that looms over me. It’s like a shadow cast over my life, over every day of my existence, only it doesn’t go away when the sun comes out.
It lingers.
Always lingers.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I look at the bed. It mocks me. Haunts me. Like the emptiness on the right side is a living thing, breathing cold air down the back of my neck. A predator hunting me, gaining speed.
Coming for me.
Coming to take from me.