“It’s mesmerizing . . . captivating. There are buildings of all different colors around us, with tile roofs. The sun is blasting them, making them all look a different shade of yellow, and the water is so clear I can see the reef below the surface. The sailboats look painted, as do the thousands of tiny people on the small stretch of beach below us. It’s magical. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I wish I could paint you like that,” he said.
I turned around to see Adam in his chair, watching me as I stood in a flowing white skirt on the balcony. My hair was dancing on my shoulders in natural, reddish-brown waves. I hadn’t worn makeup since we left the States. It just didn’t feel necessary anymore. I smiled at him. “You’re sweet. You like Charlotte au naturel?”
“I like Charlotte any and every way.” He wheeled himself toward me and looked out at the ocean. “You weren’t lying, were you?”
I reached for his hand. “It’s beautiful, Adam. Thank you for bringing me here.”
His hand squeezed mine painfully. I looked down to see the familiar sign of him beginning to have a seizure.
“Mark!” I yelled. He was at my side in a moment, trying to get Adam on the floor.
“Get a pillow!” Mark yelled to me.
Adam was thrashing on the tile floor. The only thing you can do for a person having a seizure like that is to try to prevent them from hurting themselves or you. Mark had no more stops to pull out. He had been giving Adam more medicine than he thought a person could even handle. Still, Adam was holding on. At times, he could barely speak or walk, but whenever I looked at him he still tried to smile. We had to get back; I knew that.
When the seizure was over, while Adam lay in Mark’s arms, Mark looked up at me and said, “He’s in pain, you know?” Adam didn’t say anything. He was still out of it.
I knew he was in pain. I would see Adam wince every now and then, but every time I asked, he would blow it off. He hated the seizures, I knew that. He would be so sore afterward that he would groan in his sleep. He was taking thirty different medications, which all had adverse side effects. I think the only thing truly keeping him alive was maybe the same hope I was holding on to.
“I know he’s in pain. What do we do?” I started to cry. “How can we help him? This doesn’t feel merciful.”
“God is not always merciful.”
I thought that to be a strange comment from a doctor.
“I mean, isn’t there something we can do?”
Mark shook his head and looked down at Adam. “It’s unethical . . .”
“I’m not asking you to do that, Mark! He’s going to do that trial at Cedars. There’s still a chance for him. I just don’t want to see him in pain. We should get back to the States.” I was angry, but tears were still pouring from my eyes. It was so painful to watch Adam suffer.
When he started to come out of the seizure fog, Mark looked up at me thoughtfully and said, “What trial were you talking about?”
“He hasn’t told you?”
“If you’re referring to what I think you’re referring to, he applied for it but was rejected.”
I started shaking my head.
“Charlotte,” Dr. Mark pressed on, “do you know why we’re here?”
“No,” I squeaked out. I couldn’t hear it. I ran into the bathroom where I collapsed against the door and sobbed.
Half an hour later, after trying to collect myself, I came out of the bathroom to find Adam watching me from his chair near the balcony. “You should . . .” He stuttered painfully. It felt like my heart was being ripped out when he struggled to talk.
“Take it slow, Adam.” I moved closer to him.
I could see he was trying to find the words. “Ch-change,” he said. “Wh-wh-we’re going sailing.”
I smiled sadly.
“Aren’t you hap-happy about that, Ch-Charlotte?”
“Yes, very.”
“I–I don’t like to see you upset.”
“This is hard.” The lump was growing in my throat. “It’s hard to watch.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Adam, how can we even go sailing in your condition?”
“I’ve hired people to-to-to help. Mark knows how to sail, that was one of the pre-pre—”
“Don’t, Adam. Just wait until you feel better.”
“I’m okay. I was going to say pre-pre-requisites for taking this j-job. Also, he’s a genius.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mark said. “But I can teach you how to sail, Charlotte, and for some reason this guy really wants that to happen.”
I knew Mark had a wife and small children waiting for him at home; I thought what he was doing was noble. I can’t imagine what his interview must have looked like. Will you take care of this sick man on the French Riviera while teaching his new wife how to sail? Seemed too bizarre to be real, but I guess every moment with Adam was like that from the time we met.
Adam, Mark, two deckhands, and I went out onto the perfect blue water of the French Riviera and sailed in a beautiful forty-foot yacht for three days. I learned how to raise and lower the sails, change directions, anchor, steer, and all the strange lingo to go with it, while Adam watched in awe from the cockpit. “Charlotte, let’s head that way and anchor a bit!” Adam shouted over the wind.
I went to the steering wheel and took over from Mark. “Ready about?” I said. Mark rushed to let the lines out and crank the winch. Adam reached back and helped the best he could from where he was sitting, but he had grown much weaker in those few days. He could hardly do anything anymore. Yet I was still in denial.
We found a calm cove and anchored. Mark jumped in the warm water and swam around before climbing back on board and making lunch for us, all while Adam and I took in the beauty of our surroundings. Later, I sat with Adam on the deck while Mark took a nap down below. Adam was wrapped in a blanket. Even though it was seventy-five degrees, he was getting the chills. I held him.
“You’re a regular, pro, Charlotte,” he mumbled. “You picked it up really fast. A quick study, just like I predicted.”
“It’s captain to you, buddy.”
“Charlotte?”
“Yes, Adam.”
“Mark and my family already know. I want to be cremated.”
“Then why are you telling me if they already know?”
“Here, in France.”
“No.”
“Please, listen to me. I like this spot, for some of my ashes.”
“No.”
He gripped my face with his trembling hands and said, “And I want to ask you to take the rest to my mother.”
“No.”
“Then move on, okay? Move on.”
“No.”
This was the only mercy I could give him, but I was too selfish.
“Charlotte, I’m in a lot of pain.”
I began sobbing. “Okay, okay, I’ll do whatever you ask.” I told him what I knew he needed to hear.
“I love you. You’re the love of my life. No one could mean it more.” He was struggling so badly to talk.
“Shh. Don’t talk.”
“I have to tell you that I thought a lot about it and I do think I’ll see you again . . . I know I will.” I still didn’t know if Adam was saying it for me or for him.
“I love you, too, and we will be together.”
“We will,” he said.
I kissed his face, then pulled him closer to my body and held him to my chest. He closed his eyes finally. I felt him relax.
“Mark,” I said in a resigned, beaten-down voice. I had nothing left. Mark came up the ladder from below and saw me holding Adam on the deck.