34 Seconds

by Stella Samuel

  Before I knew it, I had boxed those things neatly up, with pretty little ribbons wrapped around ones I didn’t need to mentally open for many years to come, if ever. And before I knew, I was standing on the sand in front of a boat. This boat was different than the one Will had years ago. And it wasn’t in the boathouse, it was sitting on the beach, leaning slightly away from the water. I climbed aboard, finding footing along the backside. Inside I did find fresh sunflowers soaking in a yellow vase, and Will’s Takamine G Series red guitar. It wasn’t the guitar I was expecting to see. Will had played a Taylor for the past several years. I had expected to see the Taylor. But then the memory of him playing this guitar the year before for me and Chris crept into my mind. I had given him this very guitar for his twenty-first birthday. He was giving it back to me. I dropped to my knees and cried, burying my head into the neck of the guitar.

  I sat there, my knees on the floor of Will’s boat, my mind and my heart in the same boathouse so many years ago laughing with Liza and Will and Brian. Will’s grandfather was setting the table in the dining room of the main house while Will explored the liquor cabinet in the boathouse. He’d said he had waited a long time to legally take his grandfather’s liquor, and he’d let everyone know he was going to try it all. It didn’t take long for me to follow him, and then for Liza and Brian to follow me. I walked up behind Will as he was standing in front of the liquor cabinet looking like a kid standing in front of a Christmas tree after Santa had paid a visit.

  ***

  “What do you want to try, Nikki Jay?” he asked me.

  “I’ll have a Coke, Will,” I said sighing. “I’m only twenty years old, not of age, not an old man like yourself.” I put my arms around his waist from behind. He spun around on his heels so quickly, I barely noticed until his hand was cupping my chin, and his lips were finding mine.

  “You are made of such purity, you must be an angel in disguise,” Will whispered into my lips. Then he spun back around and grabbed a bottle of tequila from the cabinet, and started singing a Jimmy Buffett song.

  “Ahh, Jimmy,” I sighed, “Now it’s a party. But I don’t need the tequila. I just need to see you smile.”

  “I always smile, baby. When I’m with you, that is,” he said in an especially cheesy way.

  “But I want you to smile like never before,” I said, grabbing his hands and pulling them up to settle between my breasts, while winking at him.

  “Oh, Nikki Jay, you know I’m ready to smile, baby,” his lips were kissing my ears and tickling my neck. My whole body tingled. I loved how we could be playful with one another.

  “Whoa, ho ho!” Brian said from the doorway. Liza was standing next to Brian with a smirk on her face.

  “Busted!” she said.

  “I wasn’t suggesting smiles like that anyway, Will,” I whispered to him. “I have something for you, for your birthday,” I said louder so Brian and Liza could hear as well.

  “That’s the kind of present we came in here to stop. Granddad said to grab the light rum and a six pack of Cokes and head back to the house.” Brian always seemed to call Will’s grandfather Granddad. I loved the comfort he felt with Will’s grandfather. I felt the same.

  “The present I have is back at the house, Brian, and we are on our way,” I said as I grabbed Will’s hand and dragged him back to the cabinet for the rum and cans of soda.

  Back at the house, Will’s grandfather had dinner ready. Steaks cooked on the grill, roasted corn on the cob, grilled shrimp, and crab cakes. Liza had baked Will a cake, and Brian was doing rum shots by the minute until Will slapped Brian in the arm and told him to slow down.

  After dinner, I brought a box out from a back bedroom no one ever used. It was a rather large white box, unwrapped, but with a big blue bow wrapped all around it. Will looked at it, and by its shape knew exactly what it was. He looked at it a few seconds longer, took a step toward it, a step back, and stuttered.

  “B-b-baby. You didn’t!”

  “Get you a box full of rocks? Maybe I did!” I said to him, holding back laughter. I could tell he was really moved knowing I had gotten him a new guitar. He’d been playing an old Gibson, which was beautiful, but it was one he’d picked up at a garage sale years before and it wasn’t in the best shape. He fell to his knees that day, opened up the beautiful red G Series Takamine guitar and cried. I remembered him burying his head in my hair and saying over and over how it was too much, too much money, too much thought. It was all he’d ever dreamed of…He just kept stuttering and crying and holding me, telling me how much he loved me, loved the guitar, could never thank me enough. It was a lot of money for a girl my age, but I didn’t need handbags costing three paychecks. I drove a used car that was paid off and made a few bucks every now and then helping out Liza.

  His grandfather broke the tear fest by standing up and saying, “Well, son, let’s hear it.”

  ***

  Will and Brian played guitar for hours. We all laughed and sang songs. I had one wine cooler. It was the best birthday celebration I’d ever been a part of. I came out of the memory sitting on my knees and crying into Will’s guitar the same way Will had cried into my hair that night while sitting on his knees. He was twenty one years old at the time. Full of life, vibrant, young, beautiful, funny; very different from what he was today. And I loved him more than I could imagine I could love anyone. I thought of my children and how I couldn’t imagine losing them. But for now I needed to compartmentalize the pain that came with losing Will – again.

  I took one sunflower, gently grabbed the guitar, leaving the stand it was sitting on, and climbed off the boat. I had a letter to finish reading. My heart was breaking, but as much as I could box off the past into pretty little boxes inside my head, the present was staring me in the face. In my present life, my husband and children were 1800 miles away, and my old lover was lying in a hospital bed a few yards away, dying if I was understanding what I had read so far. Back in the boathouse, I leaned the guitar against the wall near the door, tossed the sunflower onto the chair as I walked past the box of tissues lying on the floor, and went to the fridge in the kitchenette. From the fridge, I took a bottle of spring water. I looked at the liquor cabinet for a moment, thinking I should open it and take a few shots of whatever was inside, but I’d never been much of a drinker. I figured my head and heart were hurting enough without any kind of depressant helping. I kept the water, skipped the liquor, and went back to the arm chair. This time I took the letter in my hands, put the box of tissues in my lap, and placed the water on the table. My hands shook as I opened the letter again and, the sight of Will’s handwriting instantly drew tears from my eyes.

  Nikki, I hope I know you as well as I believe I do. I also hope you took my advice and went to the boat. Yes, I remember that night, too. It was Saint Patrick’s Day, as my birthday always is, and we had so much fun. I remember it being a warm spring evening, but more than anything, I remember love. Love for you and for my friends and for Grandfather, who prepared and cooked this amazing meal for us. I remember holding that guitar and feeling magic running through those strings. It was amazing. I also remember you getting so sick after eating crab cakes! You may have blocked it out, but I remember holding your beautiful hair back as you puked off the dock. I know you were glad you stuck with one illegal wine cooler. Crab cakes. Who grows up in Deltaville and can’t stomach crab? Only you, my dear, only you.

  I can only hope I have conveyed my regrets, my complete loss and heart break, but also my joy in seeing you happy with a good life ahead of you. I think it’s time in this particular journey to get to the point. If you are in fact reading this letter, you know a few things by now: I love you; I’ve always loved you; I’m grateful someone else loves you. I hope he can love you as much as you deserve. I’m getting married today. And I’m dying. As a matter of fact, if you are reading this and my dear wife has done as I asked, then I’m dying now. Sooner rather than later. So let me fast forward to Rebecca and explain her part in this; my
life as well as my death. We met through a mutual friend, Bo, who will be marrying us this afternoon. Bo knew I was sick when he introduced me to Rebecca. I think he wanted me to have a good friend, maybe a girlfriend, and he probably wanted me to just get laid a lot. That’s just Bo. Free love, live life to the fullest, and enjoy everything you have while you have it. Bo was actually heartbroken when I told him I was sick, and when I told him I planned to stop treatment all together, he cried like a baby. Rebecca has been in and out of my life as a friend, but not so much as a girlfriend. I know she loves me. But when she met me, she knew I was sick, so she can’t bring herself to love me to her fullest. She also knows and has known for some time I am not going to be here much longer. She knows, much as you knew so many years ago, I cannot give myself fully to her either. I’ve wondered if I could, you know, if I weren’t sick. Could I love someone the way I love you? I don’t know. I know I never have, and I know I never will. But if I hadn’t been sick, could I have? I just don’t know. I do know I am loved, and I am lucky. Rebecca agreed to marry me because she’s a good person. She knows this marriage won’t last long. She knows she will be the one to sign necessary papers, to hold my hand, to be there, to give me medicines when the time is right. She has agreed to see me to my death, so I won’t be alone. I know I have friends. You know I no longer have family. My friends have been here. Bo. Brian. They’ve been great. But I’m not sure even friends can do the difficult things ahead. So I’ll have a wife. Rebecca has a large family, compared to my nonexistent family. They are many, but they don’t have much. Once I am gone, she will inherit the house where I will die. My grandfather died in this house. It’s been my house for so many years now, and I feel if Rebecca can give me those ever important vows, she can have the house in the end. You have my guitar. Brian has my Taylor. Rebecca will also have other things to give to you. Just simple things, like journals I’ve kept, copyrights to songs I’ve written. I’ve had some time now to clean house. When you look in on your life from the outside, you realize our lives are filled with so many things that don’t matter. I’ve held on to the things that matter. First edition books, things belonging to my grandparents, the one thing my Dad ever gave me, a children’s book. I sold or gave away all of my CDs and DVDs and books with no place in my life anymore. I have tried my best to get rid of clutter, but much of the clutter in the house will still take time to go through. There will be no liquor or alcohol of any kind in the boathouse or the main house. I don’t need to fall back on old friends when I don’t have medications. I have some hippie friends who have offered marijuana if I feel I need it, but I’ve told them to keep it away unless I ask for it. From my research, I may be asking for it soon enough. I guess what’s important for you to know, is I’ve tried to tie loose ends and make this easy for everyone involved. Rebecca will be my caregiver, and Hospice will come in when I am ready for them. My hope is you will be here soon. If you are here, Hospice has already paid a visit. They promised Rebecca they will tell her when it will be time to call you.

  Nikki, I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I know it’s a lot to ask, I know you are in a loving marriage with another man, and I hope he’s gracious enough to hold you up when you begin to fall. This will hurt. Even if you don’t love me as much as I have always loved you, it will hurt. I know this because I know you. This is not going to be an easy journey. I’ve wanted to be selfish all these years and steal you away, lock you in my heart, and keep you forever. But I couldn’t. And I’m glad I didn’t. You have a better life today because I didn’t. But I am asking you to please let me be selfish now. Will you be with me for this final part of my journey? Will you hold my hand and stay with me until I meet my end?

  I don’t know how to say goodbye to you. I don’t know how to say goodbye to anyone, but I think I could manage with anyone but you. I’ve been told my personality might change. I may become bitter or angry. I may push you away, as I’ve done before. I won’t want you to see me hurting or weak, but my body will hurt and my body and heart will become weak. It’s during those times I ask you to hold on tighter and stay with me. Rebecca knows our story. She knows the beauty of us, and she knows how much I love you and how much I want you here. She will be your support, and I hope you can be hers. For this, I love you both so very much. I will always be with you. When you hear an acoustic guitar, when you hear laughter, when you teach your children how to play music, please teach them on my guitar. I will be around. Sing my songs, play my music, open your heart to the breeze on open waters, and let me in. I will be there. I promise. I promise.

  Forever,

  Will

  It took me a few seconds before I could draw a breath. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see straight, I felt nauseous and dizzy, and my heart was breaking into a million pieces. Tears were streaming from my eyes in thick ropes instead of drops. I’d never hurt so horribly, and I knew if I agreed to stay there with Will and Rebecca, I would only hurt more.

  Chapter Twelve

  I don’t know how long I stayed in the boathouse. My whole body felt wet once I moved. Maybe I had been sweating too, but I knew I had tears streaming down my face, dripping down my chest beneath my shirt, and snot covered my face. The tissue box had been emptied, and there were balls of tissue surrounding me on the floor. I didn’t even remember sitting on the floor, but there I was, with Will’s red guitar in my lap, a broken sunflower at my feet and wet tissue all around. After some time, I got up, left the guitar and mess on the floor and walked back to the main house. Rebecca was waiting for me in the kitchen. She had a tall glass of water. I noticed hers had ice, mine did not. I wondered what other things she would just automatically know about me. She also put on a pot for tea. I shook my head weakly. I couldn’t speak, but I couldn’t imagine stomaching anything right then.

  “I know this is tough, Nikki. I also know you don’t know me well, maybe not even as well as I may know you, but we need to find…no, we have common ground. Will. He brought us together. He believes not only can we bring him through this, but we can also bring each other through this.” She spoke to me in almost a whisper.

  “Bring him though this?” I raised my voice. “He’s not coming through this, Mrs. Westerly. I’m not even sure I’m going to make it through this, not whole at least, but Will is definitely not going to come through this.” I began to sob. With my elbows on the kitchen table my body shook. I felt claustrophobic. I lowered my voice and said to Rebecca. “I will do this. Of course, I will. I need to call my husband, I need to go see my dad, and I will be back. Is that okay?” I paused with another sob. “Do I have time?”

  Rebecca put her arm around me, taking on the impact of my sobbing. “Honey, Will is dying, but this will be a process. We both know you have an amazing husband. We have both talked with him in the past few months. He knows why you are here. I’m sorry, we asked him not to tell you. Please don’t be angry with Chris. Please don’t be angry at Will. If you must, be angry with me. Will has some time. We think a few days, but this is not an exact science. Hospice has been here, and they will come by more often. They think three to five days. You’ll probably want to stay a few days after. You can come and go as you wish, honey. I’ll be here.” It was the first time I noticed Rebecca’s sweet and soft southern accent. She seemed very tender and caring. I think it was the most she had spoken to me since I met her at their wedding.

  I couldn’t speak, so I nodded and walked away from her, not looking back at the house as I got in my car and drove away. I couldn’t think of a time I wanted to get away as quickly as possible, but the speed bumps still on the Stingray Bay Hills Road were as slow as ever, making the journey to my dad’s house long and painful. When I pulled in, Dad was sitting on his back deck smoking a cigarette. He saw me pull up and stepped on his cigarette before walking down to greet me. I could see concern on his face. Instantly I knew Chris had already talked with him. Or maybe Will had talked to him before I arrived. I got out of the car crying as he wrapped his arms around
me, allowing me to bury my head into his chest. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there like a pillar, not moving, soaking up my tears into his shirt.

  “Oh, Daddy. What am I going to do?” I asked.

  “What you always do, hon, be there. Be there for him, spend some time with him, and say proper goodbyes.”

  “How?” I asked weakly.

  “Nikki, I don’t know how. But I do know Chris and the girls would love to hear from you. Why don’t you go wash your face and call your family? They miss you very much.” I could tell Dad didn’t know what else to say. He was good at hugs, at standing strong, and good at offering advice, but if he didn’t have any, he’d send me on my way until he could find a way to fix it for me. He knew this couldn’t be fixed.

  My phone call with Chris, Emily, and Bella was tough, but talking with the girls cheered me up. Emily kept trying to show me a picture she had drawn for me. Bella said a few short phrases and said ‘Mama’ a few times, but she was more interested in heading outside. Chris didn’t have much to say. Just like the wedding over a year ago, he was strong, accepting, and understanding. At one point he just said, “Nikki, he’s an old, dear friend. I don’t know him well, so it’s not my decision to make. I know your past with him, and he’s told me enough to know he needs you. We are okay here. I have to head to Atlanta for some meetings in two weeks, so I can only hope you can be home by…” He stopped talking. We could both hear an understanding hanging between us. Will needs to be dead, and I need to be over this and on my way home before Chris has to go to Atlanta. Goodness. I didn’t even know what to say.