Love Letter Duet: The Encore Edition

by Callie Anderson

  I kissed the hollow of her neck. “I’ll make sure she never forgets you.”

  “They’re life lessons, things I wish my mother had left for me.” Her voice cracked. “Make sure she does well in school. And that she marries a nice person. Make sure she travels—”

  “Emilia.”

  “I’m serious. After today, I don’t want to talk about these things anymore. I want to live every day to the fullest. But for right now, I need to make sure I tell you everything.”

  “Okay.”

  “Make sure you take her to the doctor often. Let her dance in the rain, even though it rarely rains here. Teach her to be both school smart and street smart.”

  “Your list keeps growing, huh?” I kissed her cheek.

  Emilia leaned her head back, her eyes squinting from the sun’s glare. “Make sure she falls in love. Real, unconditional, crazy, stupid, love.”

  “Like ours?”

  “Yes.” She traced the outline of my face with her hand. “You made my life better. Against everything I ever believed in, you, Weston Carter, you gave me the craziest, most consuming love I never knew existed.”

  I covered her lips with mine. Pulling away, I whispered, “I’m not done loving you.”

  “I’ll never stop loving you.” Her lower lips trembled. “I’m so, so sorry that I was stupid and naïve and never told you about Lyra.”

  “Shhh.” I brought my lips down to hers once more. “Unconditional, crazy, stupid, consuming love. That’s all that matters now.”

  Emilia tucked her head into my chest. Her breathing changed and I could hear her soft sobs. “I want everyone to remember me as me. I want to say good–bye to everyone before my days get worse,” she whispered between sobs. “We should have a good–bye party, just us and a few friends.”

  “Okay.” I kissed her forehead. “I need something from you, too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need you to forgive Jeremy.” Emilia pushed away from me. “He’s been worried, and I’ve kept him in the loop about what’s going on. I don’t want him to think you left us hating him. I know you, Emilia. You don’t know how to hate.”

  She sighed. “I don’t hate him. It was easier to blame him than accept the truth. ”

  “You need to talk to him.” I pulled her even closer.

  “I know. Jeremy didn’t deserve what I did to him.”

  “He doesn’t deserve to be shut out of Lyra’s life either.” I chuckled. “As much as I hate it, it’s true. He’s been in her life since day one.”

  “Why are you such a good person?” Emilia bit her lower lip when she looked up at me.

  “Because you make me good.”

  81

  EMILIA

  I knew I was dying.

  I had fought cancer as hard as I could, but in my bones, I knew my future wasn’t something I would have; I was dying.

  It was before Dr. Marino said that the IP chemo wasn’t working.

  It was before they told us it had spread to my ovaries.

  It was like everything just clicked together and the realization set in.

  Intuition.

  Something was wrong. I was certain of it the morning I’d collapsed in the bathroom. My world shifted. And right before I passed out, I looked at myself in the mirror and saw and saw, sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, transparent skin . . . and beneath it all was death.

  The next thing I remembered was waking up in a hospital room, and all I could think of was the dream I’d had of meeting my mother. She had told me the end was near, but it would all be okay and not to be afraid of the unknown. So with that fresh in my mind and even with what I knew deep in my gut, I couldn’t quit. I gave it one more try, one last fight with everything I had in me. I wasn’t ready to throw my towel in yet. I wanted to make it to Lyra’s birthday. I needed to watch her blow out her candles one last time.

  Then, there was Weston. God, I gave it my all to have more time with him. Every minute, second, ounce of time was more precious to me than I’d ever realized time could be.

  So we tried IP chemotherapy, and I fought like hell for more time, but the cancer fought harder and spread to my kidneys and spleen. The realization of this killed what bit of me was left. I didn’t want to spend my last few months in hospital beds with tubes and machines connected to me. I wanted to enjoy life, make every second count. Hold my daughter and kiss my husband. The things that seemed so small, but were everything to me.

  It wasn’t ideal to leave Lyra behind without a mother to lean on, confide in, and spend days with. It wasn’t fair to be so young and be dragged down and beaten by a disease that killed so many before me. But with what little was left of me, I had finally accepted what was in the cards for my life. And it wasn’t much. On the bright side, the only thing keeping me afloat, was the fact that Lyra had her father, her protector, and even when my heart stopped beating, I could and would love him until our souls were united once again.

  It would all be okay.

  82

  WESTON

  Bargaining

  We sat on the beach until my mother brought Lyra home from school. Together we decided we would sit Lyra down when the time was right and tell her what was happening.

  Leslie came by with dinner, so I sat with Lyra in the living room while she played on her iPad with headphones as Emilia told her best friend she was dying. I made sure I sat where I could see them.

  “How was your scan?” Leslie asked as she pulled back a barstool.

  Emilia sighed and looked back toward me before returning her gaze to Leslie. “I decided to stop treatment,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Leslie’s head snapped toward her. Her hands pressed on the hard granite countertop.

  “My cancer is aggressive and its spread. There isn’t much they can do.”

  “No.” Leslie shook her head in disbelief her voice ricocheting through the house. “You’re so young. You can’t be . . .” Leslie covered her face and began to weep. Unable to watch, I turned my head.

  Emilia was so young.

  Healthy.

  Why had this happened to her? Why had this happened to us?

  Maybe if we had gone to the oncologist sooner. Or maybe if they had performed a full hysterectomy, things would have been different. There was still ten percent. I could try to change her mind.

  “It’s okay.” Emilia’s voice brought me out of my thoughts. I turned my attention back to the kitchen where Emilia had her arms wrapped around Leslie.

  “You can’t die!” Leslie cried. “You’re my sister. My best friend.”

  Their faces were both buried in each other’s shoulder, but I could see how they trembled as they cried.

  “I’m so scared.”

  “Emmy, this isn’t fair.”

  My vision blurred with tears. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to tune out their cries.

  “Daddy?” Lyra’s voice startled me.

  Clearing my throat, I answered her. “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I am,” I lied. I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t ready to be a single parent. I would never be ready to lose the love of my life.

  There were so many things I still wanted to do with them both.

  Life was cruel.

  God was unfair.

  83

  EMILIA

  Mentally, I tried to prepare myself to tell everyone that I’d stopped treatment, but it still wasn’t easy. I was hesitant about telling Leslie. It was hard to see the pity in your friend’s eyes, but Leslie was so much more to me than a friend. She was my sister. We had been through so much together. We’d had our fights, and we’d even gone a few years without speaking to one another, but that's what family did. You fought hard, and you loved harder. And Leslie was my family. Telling her that the chemo hadn’t worked, that I was dying, was among one of the hardest things I’d ever done. . She cried. I cried. We hugged each other through the tears and then we cried even more.

  The
realization that death was on its way changed a person . I felt like I had gone through the seven stages of grief and I was beginning to accept my fate. Weston wasn't there yet. He hadn't reached acceptance. It would take him some time, but I didn't want him to linger too long in the depression stage.

  I had cracked a bottle of wine for Leslie and me to share after I’d dropped the bomb that I was dying on her. She wanted something stronger, given the situation, but I couldn't drink hard liquor. It made me too sick. I wasn't even supposed to be drinking wine, but I was fucking dying so I guess in the end, who really cared?

  We sat on the deck staring out at the gentle waves in the ocean. “Are you scared of dying?” Leslie asked, her gaze never leaving the open waters she had been staring at since we sat down.

  “I was at first.” I sighed watching the waves. “I was petrified of the unknown. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm not scared now. But I'm just not as terrified as I was before. My biggest fear is Weston,” I admitted, my lungs deflating with the pierce of my heart. “I know Lyra is going to be okay. She’s a tough cookie. But Weston… I'm afraid once I'm gone, he'll change with Lyra. It's what my dad did. That scares me.”

  Leslie’s eyes finally found mine and she reached over and cupped my hand with hers. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I promise I will not let him do that. I promise to take care of your little girl.”

  My lower lip quivered and tears lined my lower lids as I tightened my grip on hers with what little strength I had left.. “Don't let him sulk in the house. Don't let him quit his music. Don't let him quit living.”

  She sniffled hard. “I think you need to tell him that yourself.”

  I glanced down at my frail hand inside her healthy one. “I don't think he’ll listen to me. Not now.” My voice was as weak as my body felt. I so badly wanted to tell Weston that it would all be okay. That in my heart, I knew it was going to get better.

  “You have to find a way.” Leslie insisted.

  I nodded. We sat on the deck as Leslie polished off the bottle of wine. She had brightened up a bit, but the pain was still swimming through her eyes. I watched as she sighed and brushed her hands through her long brown hair.

  “What's the matter, Les?” I asked. We had lived together for a long time. I knew there was more to her sigh than just what was going on with me. Her actions spoke louder than her words. .

  “It's nothing.” She shrugged, massaging the back of her neck with both hands. “It's something.”

  She laughed and looked over at me, her brows pinched together. “It's like everything I love goes to shit. Everyone ends up dying. It's you, it's Harry, it's my entire life before I came to California.”

  “Leslie…” I scooted my chair closer to her and offered her some comfort. Leslie had never spoken to me about her life prior to when we’d first met. I knew that she was originally from Arizona. She had come to Brazil for an internship, where we became fast friends, and we had both majored in international business.

  I didn't necessarily enjoy talking about my past, and neither did Leslie, so we clicked. But I knew there was so much more about her that I didn't know and maybe it was time for her to let it out. “Do you want to talk about your life before California?” She closed her eyes and nodded. “I do, and that's the problem.”

  “How so?” I cocked my head to the side, confused by her answer. Her lids popped open and I bit back a cry at the sadness sweeping across her face. “Because I'm losing my best friend. I have no one to talk to. No one I want to talk to.” She wiped away her tears.

  “You can still talk to me even when I'm gone.” It was harder to say than I ever imagined, but she needed to know when I was no longer here, it didn’t mean I wasn’t around to still listen.

  “It’s not the same and you know it.” She released a strangled breath. . “It’s all broken dreams…”

  I nodded because I knew it would never be the same. Whatever she held in her heart was her own story to tell and I would never hear it. I only hoped one day she got it out so she could be free from whatever chains were holding her down.

  84

  WESTON

  Emilia sat out on the deck, her chin held up to the sun that has beginning to set on the horizon. She hugged a decorative pillow as I walked toward her with Lyra. This was it. The moment we would destroy my little princess’ life by telling her, like all other Disney princesses, she too wouldn’t have her mommy anymore. How the hell do you tell a kid their mother is dying?

  “Mommy?” Lyra questioned and Emilia looked down toward her. The tears had already begun to pool in her eyes. “Daddy said we needed to have a talk. Am I in trouble?”

  “No, sweetie.” Emilia cleared her throat and reached for Lyra. “Mommy and Daddy need to tell you something.”

  I sat on the other side of Lyra, my gaze locked on the pavers at my feet. “Lyra,” I cleared my throat and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Remember how we told you about how your mom was sick?”

  Lyra looked over at me and nodded her head.

  Emilia grabbed Lyra’s hand and brushed her hair away from her face. “Lyra, the medicine that the doctors gave me didn’t work.”

  “Are you still sick?” Lyra asked.

  “Yes.” Emilia held back a sob. “Mommy is really sick, sweetie, and there’ll be a few things that will change around here.”

  “What’s going to happen?” Lyra’s question broke my heart.

  Emilia cleared her throat and inhaled slowly before exhaling. “Lyra, I love you very much and I hope that you never forget that. I’m sorry, sweetie, but Mommy isn’t getting better.

  “Are you going to die?”

  Emilia gave her a hesitant nod and Lyra threw herself into her arms. Tears blurred my vision. I couldn’t take it.

  “My sweet baby girl.” Emilia’s voice was hoarse. She moved from the chair and knelt in front of her. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you. But I want you to know that every day we spend together is going to be magical.”

  “I don’t want you to die, Mommy!” Lyra cried.

  I wiped my tears away and wrapped my arm around Lyra’s small shoulders. “Lyra, we both love you very much, and we want you to understand that this isn’t something we can control.”

  “I may not be here with you Lyra, but I’m in here.” Emilia pressed her hand to Lyra’s chest. “I promise I’ll always be in there.”

  Lyra bowed here chin and tears dripped onto her thighs. Emilia draped her arms over Lyra and kissed her tears away. “I’m so sorry, Lyra,” she cried softly.

  My hand rubbed Emilia’s back, and my own tears dripped from my face.

  Emilia convinced everyone to come over one last time.

  Her rules were simple: there would be no crying and everyone was to wear something colorful. We were not to talk about her dying, only remember the good times we shared with her.

  Emilia sat on the patio furniture with Cinthia and Travis as I stood off to the side, looking out at the ocean. Her smile never left her face, and though I tried to be optimistic, I was dying inside. I sipped on my lukewarm beer, trying to drown out the noises in my head.

  Leslie approached and handed me a new beer. A sympathetic smile appeared on her face. She shrugged and sighed.

  “Thanks.” I said and took the replacement.

  “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “You really want to know?” Leslie nodded. “I’m her husband with no legal right to force her to try to live, and I can’t help but feel useless. We had to tell Lyra that Emilia is dying and that conversation tore me up inside.”

  “I’m sorry, Weston.” She spoke calmly, with no lightening of her eyes, no smile of tenderness.

  “I’m not ready to lose her, Les. Every single morning I watch her sleep to make sure she’s still here. I’m constantly waiting for her not to wake up.”

  Leslie rubbed her hand on my shoulder. “Hang in there. If this is how you feel, imagine her feelings. She must be terrified.”

  The
chatter around us died down. Leslie and I turned to Emilia. Her eyes were glued on Jeremy, who had walked in with a bouquet of flowers. Emilia’s gaze pulled away from his and landed on my mine. Closing my eyes, I nodded slowly for her to go to him. Emilia pushed off the couch and walked over to Jeremy. The sight of him with her used to cause my blood to boil. Now it didn’t even faze me. Now I understood where he was coming from.

  When Emilia pulled away, Lyra ran toward him. “Jeremy!” She jumped into his arms.

  “Sweet pea!” He hugged her briefly and then placed her on the ground. “Look how big you’ve gotten.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

  “And I’ve lost two teeth.” She tugged on her lower lip to show him the empty spot in her mouth.

  I took a sip of my beer and walked over to them. “Hey, man.” I reached out to shake his hand.

  “How’s it going?” He pulled me closer and patted my back.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked and held up my beer.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Leslie walked over to greet Jeremy and took the bouquet from Emilia. She walked off with Lyra and the three of us stood there looking at each other. I knew that Emilia needed to talk to Jeremy. Leaning in, I kissed her cheek. “I’ll be by the fire pit if you need me.”

  Emilia and Jeremy sat on the edge of the pool. Her feet kicked the water as they spoke. From afar, I observed her brush her tears away, hug Jeremy and kiss his cheek. When she was ready, she would tell me about their conversation.

  I forced myself to converse with other guests. This was how Emilia planned to say good–bye to everyone, and I would allow her to have this day.

  The following morning, the sun rose on another beautiful California day. I lay in bed watching Emilia sleep peacefully. The sound of her softly breathing was heaven to my ears. She would need all the rest she could get before our trip. A peaceful night’s sleep wasn’t a priority when you knew your future wasn’t long.