by Lola Stark
“Oh, thank God!” I plopped down onto the cracked leather sofa and tried to dry my face with the tiny piece of white material. “How bad is it?” I knew even before the question left my mouth, he wasn’t going to tell me anything I didn’t already know in my heart. I was losing him. Fast.
“Well, as you already know Dylan has brain cancer. He’s not been receiving any treatments for quite some time now and vastly outlived any of our initial expectations.” I scanned the doctor’s nametag which sat above his pocket.
Dr. Polouski.
Nodding, I pulled another tissue from its cardboard box and blew my nose.
“Now, Dylan had done tremendously well until recently; however, he’s taken a rather bad turn. This morning, after he was admitted, he had a particularly nasty seizure.” He put the clipboard he had been holding down on the coffee table between us. “Dylan’s health is deteriorating quickly. The seizures indicate his brain is not coping any longer. His organs are weakening and he’s not able to function normally at this point.”
I pulled in a shaky breath. “Seizures? Are you sure?”
“I’m afraid so, Miss Torres.” The doctor seemed to steel himself before opening his mouth. “He’s growing weaker, and the next few weeks will be hard on his body and mind.”
Staring blankly, unable to grasp what he’d just told me, I made no sound.
Dr. Polouski reached out and laid his hand over mine. “His body is giving up. He doesn’t have longer than a few weeks left, Miss Torres. I’m terribly sorry. You should start making arrangements for him now. When the time comes, you won’t be in the right frame of mind.” The doctor looked at my swollen face. “Are you aware of Dylan’s last wishes? Do you know if he has a last will and testament?” His eyes were kind but detached.
One sentence and my heart shattered, splintering shards though my chest. “I need to see him.” I jumped up out of my chair. The only thing I could focus on was getting to him.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take you to him now.” The doctor stood and walked to the door. Before opening it, he stopped and turned to me. “Please understand it might look scary. There are a lot of tubes and wires attached to him right now. He looks as unwell as he is. It can be quite confronting for loved ones to see.”
“I understand. Please, I just need to see him,” I begged, not realizing just how terrifying it would be to see him like that.
A few turns in the long corridors and we came to a light blue curtain that looked identical to the rest of them. “If you need anything, the nurses’ station is just over there.” The doctor pointed to a large desk buzzing with people coming and going.
I nodded and moved forward, my feet feeling like they weighed a ton. I lifted my equally heavy hand and pulled the curtain back enough to step inside.
No matter how much you think you are ready, nothing truly prepares you to see somebody you love lying in a hospital bed, looking as pale as a ghost. With tubes, wires and an assortment of machines hooked up to his frail body, I swallowed back my instinct to wail and throw myself at him. “Dyl?” I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. The tears I’d managed to stop, spilled over and ran down my cheeks again.
“Sugar.” He attempted a smile but stopped short. “Don’t cry, sugar.” His voice was raspy and sounded shallow. “Come.” He was out of breath with just a few words. I rushed to his side, being mindful of the medical equipment.
“Oh, God, Dylan.” I reached out to touch him only to stop and hover over the top of him unsure where I could touch him or if I could at all. “I-I don’t know where I can—” I moved my hands back and he reached one of his own out slightly to grasp me. “I love you,” I told him through my sobs. “I was so scared. I love you so much, Dylan.”
“It’s okay, sugar.” His eyelids closed and he took a stuttered breath. “I’m here.” He loosened his grip on my hand slightly and panic hit me like a semi-truck all over again. I hit the little red call button and a nurse rushed in a second later.
“He— I—” My words were lost in an abyss of fear, grief and terror.
“He’s okay, dear,” the nurse assured me, scanning the monitors around us. “He’ll be very drowsy right now.” She came closer and patted me on the shoulder kindly. “You’ll find he’ll fall asleep often. His body is trying to recover a little.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I panicked,” I apologized to the plump older lady who smelled of musk and disinfectant.
“It’s quite all right, sweet girl. Anytime you are worried, you just call out and we’ll be right over.” She smiled sadly at me. Something in her eyes said she’d seen this same situation before and it had stolen a little piece of her own heart.
I looked down at Dylan and closed my eyes. He was going and I was powerless to stop it. I wasn’t sure my heart could handle what was to come.
Jude
Sitting around the living room at Mace’s house, I was torn in two. Not moments ago, Teeny’s cellphone had rung. The news that followed had everyone in a silent sorrow.
“What did she say exactly?” Scarlett asked Teeny.
“She said Dylan was sick and they were at the hospital,” Teeny explained woefully. “She asked if we can meet her at her apartment in half an hour. She needs our help.” Teeny blinked and a looked right at me.
“Jude…I um. I don’t know if it’s such a good idea if you come.” Her words stung; though I knew she was right. I didn’t want to cause any discomfort or awkwardness, but every part of my being was screaming at me to go to her. To hold her and make whatever hurt better again.
“I’ll watch the kids here,” I told her, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. “Just make sure she’s all right.” I nodded and excused myself from the room, poking my head out the back to make sure Jaxson and Jordan weren’t up to no good.
“Jude?” Teeny came into the room and quietly spoke behind me. “I’ll message you as soon as we find out what’s going on. Are you sure you’re okay with the kids?”
I spun around and faked a half-assed smile. “Course I am. Javerio will be fine. Go.”
“He should stay asleep for another half an hour at least.” Teeny walked up to me and laid a caring kiss on my cheek. “We’ll be back soon.”
I nodded and watched from the corner of my eye as everyone clambered out the front door. “It has to stop hurting soon.” I aimlessly rubbed a hand across my chest, trying in vain to sooth the pain that never seemed to leave.
I glanced down at the cellphone in my hand and threw it back onto the kitchen bench. “Come on already,” I grouched at the empty room. It had been three hours and I’d still heard nothing. The twins were in the front room watching a movie about robots or some crap like that. I heard Javerio’s giggle as I walked past the playpen where he sat playing with his toys.
I paced a few times and picked him up. “You ready to eat, little dude?” He smiled and shoved his fist in his mouth, coating it in drool. “It’ll keep me distracted and I’m sure mommy won’t mind missing the mess you’ll make.” I scrunched up my face remembering the mess the twins used to make at that age with a small bowl or pureed food.
“Here comes the plane. Brrrrr.” I soared his spoon through the air making plane sounds in the hopes he’d open his mouth and let me shove some more strained peas in there. My eyes flicked over to the clock again. Three hours and thirty-five minutes. “More?” I cooed, looking back at the messy little boy sitting in his highchair. “Ready—” The front door swung open and in walked Teeny, Trip, Scarlet and Mace. Teeny made a beeline for her son while everyone else looked stunned and worn out.
“Well?” I asked as Teeny swept Javerio up in her arms, laying kisses on him and not seeming to notice the fact that he was covered in food. “Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on.” I threw my hands up in the air impatiently.
“Dylan has cancer,” Scarlett told me, dropping down on the sofa solemnly. “He’s dying.”
In an instant, I felt the strongest need to go to her and hold her in my arms. To lie and tell
her everything would work out okay. Everything would be all right and she wouldn’t hurt. I slid down onto the closest spare seat and frowned. I’d hit him. I’d made him feel less than welcome, treated him like shit, and the entire time he was sick. “I’m such a prick,” I chastised myself.
Mace walked up behind me and squeezed my shoulder. “A bit, yeah.” He was always the one to be honest, even in a horrible situation. “But, nothing you did made him sick. He probably didn’t need a smack to the face, but he was already diagnosed and ill when it happened.”
“I have to see her.” I looked up from the floor to the door. “How is she?” It was probably the world’s stupidest question, but I needed somebody to tell me how she was.
“She’s had a rough day. Dylan had a turn for the worst this morning,” Scarlett interjected. “But she’s strong, Jude.” Scarlett didn’t know how strong Haven really was, but I did, and I knew even the strongest part of the woman I loved couldn’t withstand losing the man she loved.
“Now that we know, we made sure to tell her we can help anyway possible, but I think the best thing for her is to let her have whatever time she’s got left with him and just be there when she needs us.” Scarlett sighed heavily and rubbed her temples. “And she will need us.”
Haven
“That’s not funny, Dyl.” I pouted, emotions bubbling to the surface again.
“What?” He gave me look of confusion. “It’s my funeral. I should be able to have whatever I want.” He smiled. It was still dazzling, despite him being bedridden and weak.
“Yeah, but this is how people will remember you, Dyl. I couldn’t stand there and watch people make a mockery of your life.” I was whining now, my frustration showing at his complete nonchalance over the entire situation.
“Hey, hey, I’m not dead yet, Haven. I just want to have some fun. I want people to remember the funny parts of me, the parts that made them laugh, made you laugh.” He tipped his chin down to catch my eyes. “Look at me, sugar. It’s no big deal. Really.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Fine!” I exclaimed. “You want stupid yo momma jokes, people to wear dumb mocking t-shirts, rubber ducks and a clown car, fine!” I turned away, tears stinging my eyes. I couldn’t believe that would be my last memory of Dylan. But if he wanted it, I would do what I could to honor him.
I wiped my face, and turned back toward him, and lay in the bed beside his sickly body. “Okay, let’s start planning these jokes,” I said through a sad smile.
“That’s my girl.” He clasped my pinky in his. “How about…Yo momma so fat, her belt size is Equator.”
I couldn’t help it. I barked out a laugh. “You are too much, Dylan Highsmith.” The laughter spread from my cheeks to my eyes, the crinkles at the corners expressing my glee at his silly jesting.
“Maybe, but I need to do it, sugar. Hey, laughter is the best medicine, right?” He raised his frail hand and pushed the hair from my face.
“You want to do this? Plan your funeral?” I questioned. I was torn, I didn’t want him to have to do anything alone, but I didn’t want to think about him lying in a casket in the ground. Ridiculous ducks that would morbidly lay all around him, their cheerful eyes and open beaks forever in a silent smile. I cringed. There wasn’t enough things in the world that could show how much I loved this man, least of all rubber duckies.
“Like I said, sugar, I want people to think of me and smile, even if it was because of my funeral. I’d like your help, if you want to help me.” He pushed himself up to a sitting position on our bed. I rushed over to his side and propped some extra pillows up behind his head. There was a nurse who came daily now, the hospital no longer able to do anything but make him comfortable. Truth was, he’d be more comfortable at home, in our bed, with me. I wanted every second with him, and with him living his last days at home, I had that opportunity.
When I’d come home to shower and change while Dylan was still in the hospital, I’d called Teeny to get everyone over here. I’d needed their help in setting my apartment up for Dylan. They’d run around picking up anything and everything we could think of that would make him more comfortable, new fluffy pillows, a side table on wheels like the hospitals had, an ice machine and a new TV for the bedroom. Mace even picked up a game console so Dylan wouldn’t be bored lying in bed listening to me talk all day. They’d also given me paid leave from work so I could afford to stay home from work and take care of him.
Dylan grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes. “Sugar, if you don’t want to, it’s okay. I won’t be hurt.”
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s…well. I don’t know how I can say this.” I sat on the bed beside him, not letting go of his hand for a second. “Nothing is going to be good enough. And I just can’t wrap my head around your requests…a clown car, really?” My face scrunched in disappointment.
He laughed feebly. “Oh, sugar.” And with that, he closed his eyes.
I sighed and tumbled his words over in my mind. If he wanted my help, I would help in any way I could. I would honor him, the man who breezed into my life and stole my heart.
Not able to just sit, idle hands being my worst enemy, I set out working on Dylan’s requests. Starting from the beginning, I figured I would check into funeral homes first, check for availability. After all, people planned to die every day, right?
While Dylan slept, I scrolled through the yellow pages in my phone. “Let’s see, let’s see…” I browsed the listings for local funeral homes. “Bissel Funeral Home, Winkenhoffer, Dignity…where do people come up with these names?” I mused aloud. They were almost as bad as his wishes. I narrowed my search. Maybe he wanted to be cremated?
What about a burial? Would that be better? There was only one cemetery…
“Ugh, this is awful.” I tossed my phone on the table and went to grab a pen and paper. I needed to make a list. A list of things that needed to be taken care of. I didn’t want Dylan to worry about anything. All I wanted him to do was focus on feeling better so I could postpone my goodbyes.
I wrote down everything that could possibly be done for a funeral service, with the help of Google of course. “Good Lord, this like planning a wedding…to Jesus. I have to pick a suit, transportation, decorations, church—” I heard a bit of chuckling, followed by a cough.
“Oh, Haven. I love you, darlin’.” I looked up to see Dylan smiling at me from his bed. “I have a suit, so you can mark that off your list.” His gaunt features competed with his warm gaze.
“I love you, too, Dylan. I just hope that I can reflect who you are to me and honor your memor—” I choked up on the last words. “Damn it, we are talking like you’re already dead. This is so hard.”
“Shh…come here.” He lifted just his pinkie finger, sparking the memories of days when we would hold hands, just our baby fingers locked in an embrace. It was our thing; something I would hold on to long after he left me.
Tears stung my eyelids as I made my way to his bedside. I wrapped my finger around his and placed my other hand over top. His skin felt cold against my fiery palm. I sniffled. “So, maybe some input? Like real input, I can’t—I can’t let you go to a final resting place in a clown car.” He rasped out a short laugh. “Seriously, Dylan. I’m walking in blind here. I’ve never planned a funeral before, especially not one suitable for Ronald McDonald.”
He looked at me through lowered lashes. I could see he was fighting to stay awake. “I like carnations,” he whispered. “And you can choose any church you want. I’m not picky.” His breath became labored as he powered through whatever it was he wanted to tell me. “Go with Dignity Funeral Home. I like the name. It makes me sound like I had a choice in the matter of my life and death.”
I smiled, the tears steadily falling down my face. I rubbed his hand. “Okay Dyl. I’ll take care of everything. But please, please, wait just a little bit longer. I’m not ready yet.”
I saw his chest rise in a sigh, but his breathing was so shallow, no noise came from his
mouth. “I’ll try, sugar. For as long as I can.” His eyes closed, a silent snore rumbled his lips and his hand went limp in mine.
Dylan was fading away from my life and I couldn’t bear the thought of when the day actually came for me to say goodbye.
Jude
Her smile was gone. She walked with so much sadness. I saw her come and go from the store across the road from my garage, looking exhausted and drained. She looked like I felt. I imagined she felt worse though… I couldn’t even imagine losing her forever. Knowing she was alive was a consolation to knowing I couldn’t have her.
Her pain was my pain. There was nothing more than I wanted, but take it away for her. I wanted to shoulder it.
Dylan called me yesterday. I didn’t recognize the number so I let it ring, but he left a message.
“Jude, Haven doesn’t know I’m calling you but I need a favor. I’ve never lied to her or kept anything from her, but I’m breaking that promise right now.” He took a breath; it was loud, as if he had trouble.
“She’s gonna need someone when I’m gone and she’s too stubborn to admit that. I’m telling you, I want it to be you. I need it to be you…she needs it to be you. Please, take care of our girl.” I could hear the emotion behind his voice. I knew this was hard for him.
“Haven still loves you, Jude. Be the man she needs you to be. Take care of her.”
And with that, he hung up. No request to call him back, nothing. He didn’t even ask me not to tell her, which I thought was odd since he was keeping it from Haven himself.
Well, damn it!
I’d wanted to take care of her for a long time. Haven was the type of girl a man wanted to take care of. Love and cherish. I wanted to be that man. I would be that man. Haven deserved to love and be loved. Dylan had shown her that, and for his gift to her, I was thankful. I just hoped she was accepting of me once he was gone.
I clicked save on my voicemail. Chances were I’d need proof of what Dylan’s request was of me. Regardless, I would take care of Haven. Whether she wanted me to or not, I couldn’t deny a dying man’s wishes.