by A. Zavarelli
When I opened my blurry eyes, he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, offering his complete surrender as moisture stained his cheeks. He didn’t make a sound, but I knew he was crying.
“Lucian?” I dragged my fingers through his hair and held his face against me in the way I suspected a mother would comfort a wounded child. He was so fragile that I had no idea how to navigate it, but I couldn’t bear to let him suffer. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Don’t let me push you away,” he pleaded.
His grip on me tightened as he said it, and I continued to stroke his hair, kissing his face. “I won’t,” I promised foolishly. “I won’t.”
“Emmanuel is dead,” he told me. “He killed himself.”
The words lodged into my ears like ice picks, and for a moment, I was so stunned I couldn’t speak. But then it hit me all at once—the sudden sorrow, so deep and violent—and I stopped breathing. At that moment, Lucian’s pain had become my own. His devastation had slithered into my body and adopted me as the next host.
I held him against me as sobs wracked my body, bleeding out my anger over everything that was so unjust in this world. We cried together, and we held each other, but we didn’t speak. It was one of the only moments in my life I could recall when words weren’t needed.
We were in mourning.
And today, the sun would not rise.
THE SERVICE WAS HELD AT Emmanuel’s grave and presided over by Father Hawk. A favor I’d asked of him even though I suspected Emmanuel probably wasn’t Catholic.
Beside me, Gypsy held my hand, her face cast in shadow by the large black hat she wore. It reminded me of the day we got married when she came to my office dressed for a funeral. At the time, the irony had amused me, but now, it only brought me pain.
I wished I could have given her something better. I wished we’d had a real wedding with our friends by our sides. To see her blissfully happy one last time would have been all I needed. At least that was what I kept telling myself. But time was running out, and I felt it every day.
I hadn’t been taking care of myself. Meals had been skipped, sleep had been sacrificed, and the drinking binge had only managed to accelerate the inevitable. The fever had been ravaging me all morning, but I’d made it through the service. It wasn’t until the car ride home that I began to feel delirious.
Gypsy was beside me, still clinging to my hand, gracefully dabbing away any evidence of the emotion she displayed this afternoon. She’d cried for a man she didn’t know. She cried for her beliefs in me, so strong that she no longer questioned that Emmanuel could have been anything but innocent. Even if I her and I were the only ones that walked this earth with that knowledge, it was something.
“Are you okay?” Gypsy asked when I removed my suit jacket and rested my head against the seat.
“I’m fine,” I murmured.
But I wasn’t fine. My chest had filled with garbage again, and I’d been trying to hide it from her. I closed my eyes and felt her hand on my forehead before she gasped.
“You’re burning up.”
I tried to open my eyes, but they were heavy. Too heavy to open. I tried to give her more promises, even if I couldn’t keep them.
“Lucian.” She shook me. “Look at me.”
I wanted to. My God, how I wanted to. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and there would never be enough chances to memorize her face.
But it wasn’t meant to be.
My eyes were too heavy, and my body was weak. I felt it giving out on me. I felt the split between heaven and earth, pulling me in different directions.
“Ace,” Gypsy said frantically. “Pull over. Something’s wrong.”
DARK EYES FOUND MINE, AND I choked down my fear as I offered him a smile. “Welcome back.”
Lucian glanced around the hospital room, examining the tube in his arm, the monitors keeping track of his vital signs. He was sleepy, disoriented, and I thought maybe it was better that way.
“Lucian, you have pneumonia,” I said. “The doctors need your permission to treat you.”
They’d told me about his advance directives. I’d argued and told them I didn’t care. I played the wife card. But apparently, that didn’t matter. I wasn’t his power of attorney, and Lucian had already made his wishes clear.
I called for the nurse while he propped himself up and tried to get comfortable.
“Please.” I squeezed his hand. “You need to tell her it’s okay. Tell her that you want them to treat you.”
Lucian looked at the nurse that entered, and then his eyes moved back to me. “I’m sorry,” he spoke in a scratchy voice. “Can I have a few minutes alone with my wife?”
My chest restricted as she walked out of the room, and my frustration was boiling over.
“There’s something I need to tell you—” Lucian said.
“I know about the cancer,” I interrupted, swiping at the traitorous tears that spilled down my cheeks. I’d never cried so much in my life as I had in the past couple of weeks.
“How?” Lucian asked.
“Birdie found your pills and the medical records in your safe.”
His eyebrows pinched together, and he looked down at our joined hands. “How long have you known?”
“A couple of days. I wanted to talk to you about it, but then…”
“Then I was an asshole,” he finished for me.
“You weren’t,” I argued.
“I was.” He squeezed my hand. “And I’m sorry, Gypsy. I don’t want our last memories to be tainted by anything bad.”
“They aren’t last memories,” I insisted. “I need you, Lucian. You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
He laid my head against his chest and stroked my hair as he forced out the words. “I have to, baby girl. I’m so sorry.”
I pulled away and met his lying eyes. “That’s bullshit. You don’t have to. I know that this disease is curable. I know the success rates. Even now, you have a fighting chance. You just have to want it.”
Lucian didn’t answer, but his eyes filled with shame as they looked over me, distraught.
“Why don’t you want it?” I demanded. “Why don’t you want to stay here with me?”
“Because.” He closed his eyes. “This has been my intention since the diagnosis. I can’t change it now. It’s the only way I can see Dawson again.”
And suddenly, everything about this made so much sense. The church. His time with Father Hawk. His delusion that if he left this earth, he would find the heaven he’d been seeking all along.
I took a long time to process before I responded. I needed to choose my words carefully. I needed to make him understand.
My hand found his again, and I didn’t want to let him go. “I’m sorry that Dawson died,” I began. “I am so fucking sorry that happened to you, Lucian. You didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t fair, and if I could change it for you, I would.”
His fingers brushed over mine like he thought I understood.
“But I’m not sorry you’re alive,” I continued. “You told me that you loved me, and I’m still here. I’m not asking me to choose me. I’m asking you to choose life. Just for a little bit longer. Just until we’re old and gray, and then you can go. That’s it.”
His face fractured, and this time, he was the one to let go. “I can’t, Gypsy. You know I can’t.”
“You can,” I snarled. “But you won’t.”
We were both quiet then, and I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t see the determination in his eyes to leave me so easily. To leave us.
He had no idea about this baby inside me. And maybe if I told him, it would make him want to stay. But he would hate me for it. I couldn’t let that be the reason. I needed him to choose us. I needed him to choose life.
“You brought me into your life,” I said quietly. “You showed me what love is. You can’t just take that away.”
“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I never meant t
o hurt you, pet.”
“Never meant to hurt me?” I hissed. “What you did was the most selfish thing that anyone could ever do. You are sentencing me to a lifetime of the pain you’re trying to avoid.”
“You will move on,” he said. “It will be difficult for a while, but you will realize that—”
“I will never move on,” I answered viciously. “Don’t tell me how I feel. Don’t pretend that everything is going to be okay for me because that makes you feel better. It won’t, Lucian. If you do this to me, it will never be okay again.”
“It will,” he said, but even he knew it was bullshit.
I had been trying to find the words that would make him stay, but I realized then that there were none. “Are you going to refuse treatment?”
He didn’t answer, and that was answer enough.
I pulled away from him. “I can’t be here right now.”
He didn’t argue as I walked out the door, and I think that was what hurt the most.
OUTSIDE LUCIAN’S ROOM, FATHER HAWK, Nolan, and Ace all sat quietly. I didn’t know which one to target. In their own way, they were all special to him. But in the end, I knew who was the most influential. I asked Father Hawk for a word in private, and he walked down the hall with me.
“You have to do something,” I begged.
His eyes were sympathetic to my plight, but in the end, he shook his head solemnly. “It’s his decision.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” I choked out. “Isn’t it against the laws of the church? It’s basically suicide. Can’t you explain to him that he won’t be saved if he does this?”
I was grasping at illogical threads, but it was all I had left. Lucian believed that if he made his life right at the end, if he did all the things he was supposed to do, he would be transported into some magical place where he would get to see his son again. Maybe it was true, or maybe it wasn’t. But right now, I was too angry to believe it myself.
“It isn’t suicide,” Father Hawk answered. “If he passes, it will be from natural causes. I know this is difficult for you, Gypsy, but you must know that you will see him again too someday.”
That was not the thing he should have said to me. I pulled away, and this time, I couldn’t bite my tongue. “I don’t want to see him again someday,” I snapped. “I want him right now. Don’t you get that?”
Father Hawk was quiet, and I knew it was fruitless to argue my point. He’d made up his mind the same as Lucian. I understood now that every time Lucian got sick, Father Hawk showed up to provide spiritual comfort while he slowly wasted away.
I wondered how long it would take. I wondered how many times he would come home, and I would have him for just a little while before he got sick again. How many hospital visits would we make before it would be the last? And how on earth was I going to watch him die while I stood by helplessly?
“I can’t.” My shoulders caved forward as the stark reality of our situation sank in. “I can’t do this right now. I just can’t.”
Father Hawk laid a gentle hand on mine. “It’s all right. He understands. From the beginning, he knew it would come to this.”
“He made it come to his.” I looked up at him through bleary eyes. “What he’s asking of me is cruel. It’s the worst thing he could ever ask of me.”
“He doesn’t expect you to stay,” Father Hawk said gently. “I will be here with him if you need some time away.”
I hated to admit that it was exactly what I needed.
I needed to get far, far away.
MY THOUGHTS WERE SCATTERED WHEN I got into a taxi and gave the driver our address. When he dropped me off, I walked inside the empty house, took one look around, and knew what I needed to do. I didn’t get any of my belongings. I didn’t even change. I left Lucian’s watch on the table, and I got into my car and drove.
I drove for two days, sustaining myself on gas station food and pulling into parking lots along the way to rest. I didn’t want to stop. I just wanted to get there, and after seventeen hours, I finally did.
“Hello?” Birdie answered the other end of the line.
“I’m here,” I said.
There was a slight pause before she responded. “Here, where?”
“Seattle.”
“You drove to Seattle?” she squeaked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, God… Gyps.” She sounded distraught, and I couldn’t figure out why.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m… well, I’m still in Las Vegas, actually.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded. “I came here to see you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Birdie said. “I didn’t know you were just going to… drive up there. I would have told you.”
“Told me what?”
She sighed, and it sounded heavy. “I haven’t exactly been honest with you. I’m still in Vegas.”
She waited for my reply, but I was too exhausted to be angry, and that was how she knew something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
It broke me to admit that I wasn’t. Birdie had always seen me as the strong one. The protector. The warrior. But right now, I needed someone to be that for me.
“No, I’m not.” I closed my eyes. “Lucian won’t get treatment. I tried. I tried so hard, Birdie, but he won’t.”
There was a small sniffle from the other end of the line. “I’m flying up there today. We can drive back together.”
“No,” I told her. “I’m too tired. I just want to…”
I didn’t know what I wanted. This whole trip had been a wasted effort. I thought I could run away and pretend my problems didn’t exist the way that I used to, but I had changed. And I was done running. “I just want to come back and see Lucian. I’ll get a flight from here.”
“What about your car?” she asked.
“I’ll figure that out later.”
“Ace could come pick it up later,” she offered. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.
“Two o’clock,” Birdie said. “I just booked you a flight. I’ll text you the details.”
I didn’t know when, but somewhere during the span of the past six months, my sister had suddenly grown up.
“Thank you, B. I’ll see you soon.”
LUCIAN’S PHONE WENT STRAIGHT TO voicemail, and guilt threatened to suffocate me as I left him a shaky message.
“Hi.” Pause. “It’s me.” Pause. “I just… I just wanted you to know that I’m on my way back. I miss you, and…” Pause. “I love you. I wish I’d told you that before. Maybe that would have changed your mind.”
My eyes watered, but I tried to hold it together as the passenger next to me on the flight looked my way. “Anyway, I’ll be there in a few hours, okay? I’ll see you soon.”
The flight attendant gave me a pointed look before reminding all passengers phones must be in flight mode as we prepared for takeoff. I settled into my seat and looked out the window, hoping to find a new way to broach the subject of Lucian’s cancer when I returned.
But all that found me was sleep.
Birdie was already waiting for me at the curb, and that was my first indication that something wasn’t right.
Birdie was always late.
Always.
But this time, she was here, and she wasn’t alone. Beside her car, Ace waited for me, his face drawn as I approached. I didn’t even look at my sister. My stomach was roiling, and I couldn’t get that sick feeling to go away.
“What is it?” I demanded.
“Let’s talk about it in the car,” Birdie pleaded.
I glared at Ace, and I wanted to shake him. He wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t make eye contact. He was staring at the ground, and my heart was shattering into a million pieces already.
“Tell me.” The words came out on a sob, and it surprised all of us. Inside, I already knew, but I didn’t want it to be real. I wanted to rewi
nd three days and do it all over again because this couldn’t be happening.
“He’s okay,” I said. “He was fine. He was in the hospital when I left, but he’s fine. He’s strong, and there’s still plenty of time to change his mind.”
“Gypsy, he’s gone.”
There was such a sense of finality to Ace’s words that I couldn’t process them. I kept shaking my head, and words wouldn’t come out. I didn’t feel it, but at some point, I must have collapsed because Ace caught me in his arms and loaded me into the back of the car with Birdie. She held me while he drove, and I sobbed so hard it felt like my ribs were breaking.
“He can’t be gone,” I told Birdie. “You have to take me to the hospital. There’s still time.”
“There isn’t,” Birdie said through teary eyes. “I’m so sorry, Gypsy. He passed away last night, but I didn’t know until this morning.”
“He couldn’t have!” I shouted. “He didn’t even say goodbye. He was fine. There were still months, maybe even years.”
“There wasn’t,” she said gently. “It was the pneumonia.”
“No.” I shook my head again. I didn’t want to believe it. This great man had not been taken by a simple case of pneumonia. He was too strong for that. Too much of a warrior to go out like that.
“It can’t be true. I need to see him.”
Ace pulled into the driveway of Lucian’s home, but I wouldn’t get out of the car.
“I need to see him,” I demanded. “Take me to the hospital.”
He stared at the concrete again. “I’m sorry, Gypsy, but I can’t. He isn’t there.”
“Then where is he?”
“He’s been cremated,” Birdie said softly. “Everything was already set up. He didn’t want you to see him that way. He didn’t want you to remember him like that.”
“No.” The word came out too quiet, so I screamed it instead. Birdie tried to comfort me, but there was no comfort to be found. Because at that moment, I wanted to die too. And I finally realized what Lucian meant. I finally realized his pain.