34 Seconds

by Stella Samuel

  “I’m sorry, Nikki. I’ve never done anything like this. I’m not sure what to tell you. If you want to stay out there, you can. If you want to come back home and live your life, you can do that, too. We all miss you. Dammit, Nikki. Nothing is coming out right. What do you want to do? You do what you need to do, what you want to do. We are okay here.” I could tell Chris was struggling as well. I’m sure it was an odd feeling knowing your wife is on the other side of the country with an old boyfriend. And I couldn’t think of a single time someone we knew had asked one of us to stay with them until they died. I tried to put myself in Chris’ shoes. I’d never met any of his ex-girlfriends, and he had quite a few of them before me. I could never go to a wedding of theirs or be comfortable with my husband staying with them while they were sick. What kind of emotions would I be feeling spending so much time with Will? Would I come back a different person; changed because I’d lost someone I loved?

  “Chris, I don’t know what to expect. I don’t even know what to do, but Will wrote me this letter…” I couldn’t say anything more.

  “Nikki? Nikki, are you there?” Chris asked.

  “I’m here,” my voice broke. “Chris, I can’t expect you to understand. I think I need to be here. I don’t know if I want to stay, but I think I need to. I hope you can understand. I will text, email, and call as often as I can. Please know I love you and the girls more than anything. I think I might be selfish here, but I’m going to stay. I love you. I gotta go.”

  “I love you too, Nikki,” Chris said, and we hung up.

  I took a shower, hugged my Daddy tight, and told him I loved him and I would be in touch, but I assumed I would be at Will’s house for some time. I hadn’t unpacked my bags since arriving in Deltaville. Everything was still in the rental car I’d picked up from the airport, so I just took it all over to Will’s house, planning to stay there, or ready to come back to Daddy’s house if I needed to get away.

  By the time I rolled slowly over the first speed bump on Stingray Bay Hills Road, my eyes were dry for the first time in hours, and I was feeling unpleasantly numb. I found Rebecca in the kitchen preparing medications for Will. She told me I could give him his meds if I wanted and spend a few minutes with him if I was ready, and if he would let me. I thought, after everything, he’d better let me. But then I realized I wasn’t even sure of what I would say to him. I was going through various emotions, I’d been thinking of all the things I’d read in the letter, and all I’d come to was none of it mattered then. Everything was just as Will had wanted it. I realized he didn’t want to talk about the letter. He’d had the last word. What happened from then on was solely based on my decision to be there with him or to not be there, but in the end of someone’s life, one doesn’t just rehash years of hurt and pain. They hold on to what is important and don’t let go of it until they no longer feel anything. Without ever asking me, I knew it was just what he needed, to hold on to me until he could no longer. Angry or not, I wasn’t allowed to tell him how I felt about all the things I’d read in the letter. I wasn’t allowed to ask why I didn’t know until then he’d been sick for so long. I just had to be there for him and hope in the end I had no questions unanswered. Or at least none that mattered.

  ***

  With instructions for the medications in my head, I entered the living room, avoiding the infamous white couch, and said to Will, “Hi, Will?” It came out as a question. I was nervous and saw for the first time since arriving just how frail he looked. His arms were so skinny, I could see bone; his skin was almost translucent. He smiled back at me.

  “Nikki. Hi. I’m…you’re here.” He didn’t speak clearly, so I wasn’t sure if he wasn’t sure what to say or if he was trying to express some emotion about my decision to be here.

  Water fell from my eyes again, instantly wetting my face. “I’m here, Will. I’m here. I was here earlier. I don’t know if you remember, but I…”

  He waved an anorexic looking arm in my face, “I know.” A quick glimpse of anger visited his face, and then he closed his eyes.

  “Okay,” I said. God it was so hard. I didn’t know what to say. Talking about the weather seemed fruitless. Talking about the letter might have caused tension, especially if I was right about his intentions to never be able to talk about it once I’d read it. So I just said to him, “Rebecca says it’s time for your medicine. She let me bring it in, but if you want her to give it to you, she’s just in the other room, I can get her.”

  He just took the syringe out of my hand and showed me he could do it himself. The medicine was a bright blue, and once he tossed the empty syringe onto the floor, I saw the same sour look on his face I had seen earlier. He rolled his head away from me for a few minutes while I just sat on the floor with my head resting on the side of his bed. I tried to find my strength the best I could, but tears dripped from my nose onto my pants. Will just laid there, quiet. By the time I could lift my head, he was asleep. I could see Rebecca standing in the doorway, so I got up quietly and went to her.

  She put her arms around me and led me into the kitchen. “I made some hot tea for ya, hun,” she said. I sat at the table with my hands over my eyes and just let the tears flow. I couldn’t speak to her. I had so many questions, for Will, for Rebecca, and I just couldn’t get anything out. Rebecca set a cup of hot tea in front of me, and I found enough voice and manners to say a quiet “thank you” to her. We sat in silence for several minutes until I heard a small knock on the back door. Rebecca jumped up, almost too quickly, saying something about windy. I listened for a moment and didn’t hear any wind.

  Rebecca was only gone for about two minutes before walking into the kitchen with another woman carrying medical supplies. Wendy was a hospice nurse, Rebecca explained. There would be three or four more I might meet, depending on the day and time of day we might need them.

  “Well, well,” Wendy said quietly with a thick Southern drawl. “Is this the Nikki?” She hugged me tightly, and keeping her hands on my shoulder while she pulled a chair next to me, she said to me, “Honey, I don’t know if you know what you’re in for here, but I do know you being here means the world to Will and to Rebecca here. You two can get each other through this, and we’ll be here, too, of course, but just remember this is about making this as easy as possible for Will. This is his journey, and everything we do needs to be for him and his wants.” I was crying, and Wendy grabbed me a tissue, didn’t hand it me, but wiped the tear streaming down my cheeks and hugged me again. “Oh, Honey, I’m so sorry. I know how Will wanted this to be, and you have to know this is what he wanted.”

  Anger took over me. “To die? Will wanted to die?”

  Rebecca stepped in. “Nikki, Will has known for a long time this was coming. He loved you, loves you, so very much, and no, he didn’t want to die, but more than anything, he didn’t want to die alone. And he especially didn’t want to die without you. You are his blessing. You will be here.” She paused. “If you want to be here, that is. You can be here for him, hold his hand, guide him through this; see him to wherever he is going.”

  “Where he’s going,” I started to say something, but lost myself in my own mind, my own thoughts.

  ***

  “I don’t believe in God.” Will put his hand on my knee as the boat rocked gently on the calm river. The sun had set just moments before. We watched as the pine trees lit up before the sun fell beyond the horizon. “I could never grow tired of this sight. It’s as if those trees wait all day for the sun’s light to kiss them just before going to bed. But I don’t believe God has anything to do with it. I think it just is. We are all made from space particles, atoms and energy, first formed in space near that very sun, and I think it just is what it is. God is something derived from many gods explaining everything man couldn’t understand. Someone decided there were too many. The rain could finally be explained, so the god of water and rain was out of a job. That happened over and over until someone with an organized mind decided to organize all man’s unansw
ered questions into one neat little box with one being supreme over it.” I could tell Will had put a lot of thought into his atheist decision. I couldn’t imagine having such understanding at our age. I grew up going to church on and off but also grew up never questioning our southern values, which included some sort of religious beliefs. I almost envied his tenacity to question the unquestionable.

  “Will?” I was quiet, almost afraid to broach the subject and take the conversation any further. “If you don’t believe in, you know, God, what do you think happens to people? You know,” my nerves were taking over my voice, “when they die?”

  “Oh, Nikki Jay, you’re so deep.” Will put his arm around me and kissed my temple. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone really knows, but I don’t think we go to Heaven or Hell. I don’t think I could stand to be anywhere animals aren’t allowed, and we know enough about the core of the earth to know it’s a bunch of heat, melted rock, and molten lava. No beings down there, with souls or without. Maybe we just go back to space. Maybe we simply rot in the ground six feet under and stop being, ceasing to exist anywhere. Maybe our souls do go somewhere, but maybe we have control over where we go. Maybe there’s a Grand Central Station for souls, and we can choose to haunt loved ones, walk old battle grounds, or move on to places we’ve never seen or imagined before. But I don’t think there’s a puppet master up there controlling centuries of post-Earth journeys.”

  I stayed quiet and shivered under his touch. “Nikki, I’ve lost a lot of people in my lifetime. Friends, Mom and Dad, my grandmother. When you have losses like that, and no one comes back to hold you during a bad dream or cheer you on during a football game or just slam a door, it’s pretty easy to be convinced there is nothing after this life. It’s better than believing you’re not worth them coming back for.”

  “You never really told me about your mom and dad, Will. Will you tell me what happened?” The moon was sitting just above Will’s head and darkness was starting to settle in. The river was still with no breeze, but still, I felt chilled.

  “Dad gave up on her and Mom was soon to follow with giving up on me. And herself I guess. Dad left when I was little. I don’t remember much of him, but I think I remember the smell of cheap beer. Mom had been sick when they first met. She went into remission, they had me, and then he left. She got sick again, and it cycled over and over. When I was fifteen, Mom’s cancer came back, and though we all thought they’d caught it early enough, she only lasted a year. I learned later she’d had it when I was younger but pushed through it that time. Grandfather told me once that it was what had ruined their marriage to begin with. When mom died, I was in high school and was able to just live with my grandfather. This is the first summer I decided to stay at this house. Usually he lets me just stay in Richmond because that’s where my friends are, summer sports keeping me busy, but this year, I decided to try out this slower life ya’ll have down here.” Will put his hand on my cheek, turned my head toward him, and leaned in to kiss the tip of my nose. “I think so far, it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.” He moved his lips down and found my mouth. I had to take a breath after realizing I’d been holding it while he was talking. I knew the conversation was over. I wouldn’t learn any more about his parents or his feelings on religion and God.

  ***

  My mind met me back in reality, Will dying in the next room and Wendy and Rebecca talking about what a great idea it was to add blue food coloring to the morphine they had been giving Will so they could tell if he was taking all of it. I gathered it had been a clear liquid and that it was the blue medicine I’d given to him earlier. Morphine. I’d just handed morphine over to one of the strongest people I’d known without even knowing it was morphine. In the moment, I decided to learn everything I could from Wendy and Rebecca. I couldn’t change the train he was to take when he got to his Grand Central Station, but I could make sure he arrived in one piece with his soul intact, and to do that, I needed to do everything he needed me to do.

  “Rebecca, do you happen to have a notebook I could have? I’d like to take notes, keep track of his meds, and maybe we can make a chart of everything he’s had and when he needs it again. I think you and I need to make a plan for ourselves for however long this takes.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. “I don’t mean it like that. I just mean…”

  “Oh, Nikki, I know what you mean. The past few weeks Will has been doing most of his medications on his own, but he is at a point now where we need to manage this more for him, and I think having a chart of some sort is a great idea. I’ll go grab a notebook from the dining room. We have a lot to talk about still anyway, it might be a good thing for you to have something to write in anyway,” and with that, Rebecca left, leaving me sitting at the table, a wet tissue in my hand, watching Wendy take inventory of supplies she was leaving at the house. I lost it again. Sobbing, I mumbled something to Wendy about going outside and left the house where Will and I spent so many days and nights falling in love; the house where he would take his last breath.

  Walking down to the beach, I couldn’t feel anything. Numbness was a feeling was I getting used to. Chris and I got through our daily lives together. We loved one another. Our girls were growing like weeds. But I spent each day surviving until bedtime, so I could do it all over again. I was numb to the world around me. Getting a preschooler and a toddler off to school dressed and clean each day was sometimes so much of a challenge, I was exhausted by lunchtime. When Chris was home on the weekends, we were packing home improvement projects and family time into two short days while I tried to clean all the laundry and manage as many errands and cleaning tasks as I could before the next week started. Survival. It’s how I’d been living my life since becoming a mother to two amazing little people. It’s how I lived daily…surviving to lunch time, pray for a nap time, survive until Friday evening when Chris would walk in the door exhausted from his work week, hoping he’d do something to help me survive. Living in survival mode makes one quite numb. Numb from the world’s problems, neighbor’s problems, and sometimes even numb to my own issues, but always aware of each moment with my children. I’d been living my life numb so for long, I wasn’t even sure how to create feelings in my heart anymore. Unless numb was an emotion, I wasn’t feeling any. While I was surviving until the next task or until the next day or the next week, Will was living life in hospitals, clinics, spending his days and nights possibly just wondering when he might die, how it might feel, what he would lose in the process. I knew nothing about survival. Tears streaked down my cheeks. They felt hot, and they hurt. Finally. Emotion. I could survive this. Will wouldn’t survive this. First lesson learned, and first entry of my journal needed to be rethinking how I lived my day to day life with my children, my family, my husband, and my friends. I would survive, and I would be a different person.

  Anger. Another emotion hit me. I wanted to scream. I did scream. I stood on the small beach and screamed. Years had taken much of the beach away. The sight of a smaller beach made me angry as well. Years gone by. Surviving to the next day. The beach wouldn’t even survive much longer. Shit! Why was everything so hard? Fuck! I screamed again. There was nothing else I could do. Nothing to say, no one to say it to. I wiped my wet eyes and looked around. The beach was smaller, the boathouse looked as if it hadn’t been painted in years, and paint was falling off in huge flakes. It appeared smaller too. I knew it wasn’t possible, but maybe, just maybe the whole world was shrinking. I turned to look back at the house. Sinking to my knees onto the soft beach, I noticed even simpler but life affirming and depressing changes. The hinges on the latch door were rusted, and the door hung crooked. I imagined the only way it would sit straight was if the eye hook was latched. It, too, was rusted. The screens surrounding the porch had a few holes and looked dingy, brown, not the grey color they were when they were newer. The roof was missing a few shingles, probably from hurricane damage. At least one hits the area each year. I imagined Will trying to care for the home after his grandfa
ther passed away. While he, too, was dying. It dawned on me Rebecca was going to have a lot of work ahead just to repair damage done from the ages gone by without proper maintenance. Sadness passed over me, and I let it flow. I was pissed. No, more than pissed. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but it wasn’t relief, it wasn’t just sadness, it wasn’t just anger. But I was feeling. It wasn’t numbness. It hurt. Right in my chest, it hurt. In an effort to fight it, my heart flashed pictures of my girls to my brain, and all I could think of was how much they would have changed before I got home. Then I remembered Chris’ trip to Atlanta and how I felt it all had to be over and, I had to be back home before he had to fly out of town. Like ships passing in the night. I could imagine the moment. “Hi, honey, hope all went well, see you on Friday,” he’d say before heading to the airport. I’m sure it would be on a day when I had just walked in from a trip across the country with a new guitar in hand, dirty laundry, of course after the pesky task of watching someone I love die in front of me. I was feeling. Suddenly. All kinds of emotions were flowing. I sat with them. Imagined them all sitting next to me on the quiet, small beach. Anger, Sad, and Pissed Off all sitting next to me. I seemed to be missing Happy, Ecstatic, and Blissful, but maybe after everything, after learning to live beyond surviving each day or each minute even, I’d find them next to me instead. Laughter. I heard it. I looked around at no one; even Anger, Sad, and Pissed Off seemed to have left the beach. I didn’t know who had laughed until I heard it again and realized it was me. Great. I had swapped all of the side by side emotions for Crazy. I was back to survival. I needed to survive this, and in order to do that, I had to leave all my emotions on this very small beach and head back inside. With all of my emotions, I decided to walk back up the weed filled yard to Will’s house, leaving everyone else on the beach.