“Yeah, fine,” I answered abruptly. I cursed, silently.
I was really bad at this.
“You sure?” she asked, the question lingering. “You’re very fidgety this morning. It’s a little worrisome for me. Did you get any rest last night?”
I stayed up late with Caitlyn, and had drunk a lot of wine. Maybe that was what she was referring to. I looked like shit, and Denise was pointing it out in a nice way.
“I’m just hungover,” I told her. My voice was small, and hushed.
She raised her eyebrows at that. “And you’re saying goodbye to Blanquette today, you said?”
I nodded. “Today’s the day,” I sighed. I slouched a little. I really hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to him.
“Ah,” she tipped her chin, knowingly. “When do you want to start vacation leave? You get two weeks per year if no one has told you. People don’t communicate around here unless they have to,” she said, shaking her head.
“As soon as possible,” I answered immediately. As a reflex, I stood up straighter. “I didn’t think you’d let me off that easy,” I smiled weakly.
Denise smiled half-heartedly, per usual. “Consider the first of September the first day of your vacation.”
“Thank you so much,” I gushed.
She paused, but she hadn’t said anything. She studied me as I stood there in front of her. “I like you, Willow, I really do. But are you sure you want to say goodbye to that guy?” she asked, pointing towards room 209.
I gulped, and she sighed before continuing. “You seem to like him a lot. He can’t be too far from where you’re staying. You should exchange information with him. I’d like to see that.”
I stayed silent for a moment, processing what Denise had said. It sounded like she was giving me an order, which was odd. “Do I have to exchange information with him?” I asked carefully.
She was scrunching her eyebrows again, now. “I support the idea, but no, I’m not giving you an ultimatum, dear.”
She was sassy. I was annoying her. “Sorry, I’m just…”
“Scared,” she interrupted me. “You’re scared if you get too close to Blanquette, he’ll die when you develop something strong and real for him. Am I right?”
I held my mouth open for a second, a bit shocked to hear Denise’s assumptions. But it also made me wonder… was she right? Caitlyn had said the same thing, really. I hadn’t had to question myself to know they were right. They were spot on, actually.
“Death is ugly, Denise. I live around it. He believes he could die soon, and I recently decided that I don’t need any more death in my life,” I announced, and Denise had shaken her head at me. She was disappointed.
I sighed before continuing. “Maybe that makes me a bad person. I have my daughter to think about, and… I’d rather say goodbye to Wyatt now,” I had told her.
“Do you want him to be alone?” Denise challenged.
“No, I don’t,” I replied. “But I also can’t rely on myself to keep him company. I can’t make it my obligation. I care about him, but I’m not going to pity him. Wyatt doesn’t want pity.”
Denise sighed, obviously frustrated with me. “You’re a stubborn one, Willow. I’m only going to express this to you once, so pay attention,” she said, and then she got out of her chair, and started walking out from behind the desk.
I hadn’t had a clue to what Denise was going to say to me, or show me. The moment of truth couldn’t have knocked more wind out of me.
Denise stood there and I turned to face her. She had her pant leg rolled up on one side; I stared with wide eyes. I noticed that Denise walked a little differently. I never figured it could have been something like this.
“I lived in Asia for the first few years of my childhood. My family was poor, and we traveled through the nearby forest often to find salvation. One day, we had spotted a lion. My family had fled before I could catch up with them, and I had lost track of the trail we had been following,” Denise let out a deep sigh, then she placed a hand on the prosthesis that took the place of her right leg. “I was only six years old when I lost my leg. My biological parents had left me to die. A young tourist couple had found me almost dead, and now they’re my parents. They’re who accepted me, and who wanted me. I’m alive because of them. They had been trying to have a child for two years. My mother always tells me we saved each other,” she said, breaking each word slowly from her lips.
“Denise…” I whispered. My hand I had over my mouth. I couldn’t believe Denise had lived this. A six-year-old Denise was attacked by a lion - I couldn’t see it as anything real.
“Willow, I guess what I’m trying to tell you is, well… pity is a part of it, but it’s what could lead to something better. It leads to survival, and possibly a greater life. You care for Blanquette, and he cares for you. Maybe he’s not the only one that needs saving. Maybe you do, too,” she finished. She raised her eyebrows at me before pushing her pant leg down, and returning to her spot behind the desk.
Maybe I needed saving, too? I hadn’t known how to process all of that, but I wasn’t going to ignore what Denise had said to me today. I was going to try and take it into perspective.
“Thank you for telling me this,” I whispered, and she nodded. “I’ll reconsider seeing Wyatt again. It’s all up to him, now, really.”
“He’s not going to want to say goodbye to you, Willow. That should be pretty obvious,” Denise said to me, as she got comfortable in her seat.
“He keeps saying he doesn’t want me to miss him when he’s gone. He puts this face on, like he doesn’t want me to develop feelings for him,” I told her. “He confuses me sometimes.”
Denise waved her hand in the air. “He’s a human with a heart, Willow. He doesn’t want you to be hurt, but he’s being a little dramatic. You should go and tell him who's boss,” she winked.
I paused. “You think I should tell Wyatt who's boss?” I questioned. I tapped my knee with my index finger, once. “Are you sure it’d be a good thing to tell Wyatt who's boss?”
“It’d throw him off guard, but I think it’s about time for him to be thrown off guard,” she paused, studying me for a few seconds through the silence. “Just don’t be scared, okay? You’d regret it if you chose to not spend more time with him. Don’t let the coward within you form your mistakes. Take it all in with open eyes. Believe in chances, Ms. Monroe.”
I closed my eyes, nodding. “Thank you, Denise.”
“Anytime, Willow. Anytime.”
I put my workbag and my coat in the closet, and then I walked towards room 209. I wanted to believe in chances. I hadn’t wanted to be scared. I wanted Wyatt to believe in chances, too. But more than anything, I hadn’t wanted Wyatt to be scared - but he was. He was so obviously afraid of life. He hadn’t wanted me to care about him. He hadn’t wanted me to miss him whenever he’d be gone.
It was too late, though.
I knocked once, and he said the words, “Come in,” so fast, I had to take a step back due to surprise. He was ready to see me. He was expectant.
I actually smiled before opening the door. “Wyatt,” I said his name before coming in view of him, where he laid on the bed.
“Willow,” he grinned.
He was grinning. This was a good thing.
“Are you feeling better?” I asked.
He licked his lips before speaking. “Yes, actually,” he blinked three times, kind of quickly. “I’m feeling a lot better, but you probably could have guessed that,” he said.
I stood there, silent. My mouth opened a little as I stared at his happy-looking face. “Are you sure you’re okay, Wyatt?” I asked slowly.
I sounded like Denise, but I had a reason to. This was a strange activity happening in front of me. A happy-looking Wyatt was not common.
“I know it’s time for me to go,” he said quietly. “I have enjoyed your company immensely. You have no idea how fond I am of you. You’re good at your job, and you’re a good friend to me. But now, it’
s time for us to say goodbye,” he finished. He was pressing his lips together, now.
“Wyatt…” I trailed off. My shoulders sagged. “We don’t have to say goodbye. You’re my daughter’s teacher, and you’re my… well, uh… you’re more than just a friend to me, okay? I can’t say goodbye to you. I don’t want to.”
I stood my ground like Denise had suggested, though it was hard as hell for me to do so. I hadn’t known if I’d be able to handle it if he rejected me with a smile on his face.
Slowly, his smile did in fact fade, and his eyebrows crinkled together. “What do we do, then?” he asked, a bit exasperated. “Because the more time I spend around you, the more I want to be in your future, and I don’t know if I can be a part of your future, because I could have my third heart attack any minute, and the last could come soon after, and I don’t want to die if I have someone to live for-”
I had cut him off by pressing my lips to his. Just one kiss - a simple peck. “You worry too much,” I whispered, because he truly did - I did, too. I wanted the both of us to worry less.
“How could I not worry when I believe I’m doomed, Willow? When I have you standing in front of me, it makes me worry that much more,” he spoke, his voice hushed.
“Who are you, Shakespeare?” I teased.
He smiled at that, leaving me a bit relieved. “You’re comparing me to Shakespeare,” he said, suddenly grinning again. “How could I say goodbye to you, Willow?”
I shrugged, simply. “You don’t have to.”
“You really don’t want me to?” he asked curiously.
“That’s the last thing I want,” I answered honestly, as I sat down on the edge of his bed next to him.
He took a quick intake of air. “I’m feeling really weak right now,” he whispered. He was looking at my lips, and I knew what he meant at that moment. He wanted to kiss me.
“I never feel strong around you,” I admitted. “Only you. I don’t have a clue to why that is.”
As a response, he caressed my cheek.
I hadn’t found Wyatt intimidating. That wasn’t it. I could read Wyatt like an open book. I knew Wyatt Blanquette. His darkest secrets - what made him tick. I knew that he wanted me. I knew that he was scared. I knew he craved perfection, and I knew he was the most self-absorbed being I’d ever encounter. I had known I’d fall in love with him if I hadn’t said goodbye to him today- and at this very moment, I wasn’t afraid of loving Wyatt. In this moment, I was ready to take on Wyatt’s pain, and I was determined to convince him that he could trust me with his heart.
So, I looked him in the eyes. “This,” I said to him, as I brought the tip of my finger from the center of my chest to his.
He smiled, and then he kissed me. A simple peck was what he gave me, which told me, somehow - that we were on the same page. He flattened my hand so it’d be lying over his heart. Then he had placed his hand over mine.
“This,” he echoed.
June 3rd, 1997, 12:00a.m.
Kennedy
I hadn’t known how I was going to break the news to her. The day I wore my unhappy clothes, I had planned to tell her then. I had it mapped out in my head, and though I was afraid, I was going to sit her down and slowly break the news to her. We were going to cry together. I knew we’d both cry. I had the courage built, but then she had blurted out that Calvin Steelton had asked her out on a date, and that she told him maybe.
I couldn’t follow that with an “I’m dying” story. I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t do that to myself - I hadn’t known how to work around it, so I hadn’t.
Now she had known. I hadn’t even opened my mouth. She had a suspicion, and she could tell by the look on my face. The cancer was back.
I was seven when I first got brain cancer, and the surgery had been doable then - it was successful. I had one cancerous tumor removed from my brain at seven years old.
At eighteen years old, I had brain cancer, grade 4 glioblastomata. Because of where the tumor was located it, it was a terminal brain tumor. On May 25th, 1997, my doctor told me I had five to six months to live.
Eventually, the tumor would affect my mental health negatively. My final stages, I’d vomit profusely, get angry for no reason, develop vision abnormalities, have seizures, or maybe even lose the ability to move my legs. I hadn’t known what horrible symptoms I’d eventually have, but I knew I would die. I was going to die this year. How I’d tell Willow that? How I’d explain that to her?
It would be the most difficult thing to form in words. I wouldn’t want to look her in the eyes, but I’d have to. We would have to learn to make the best of this. So the last days I’d have with her, they wouldn’t be sad. I loved Willow. Every fiber within me reached for her.
Breaking her heart was going to be difficult. How could it not be difficult?
Her heart was already cracked. She knew I had cancer. She hadn’t known I was dying, but she had known I had cancer. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than that one crack in her heart that I had caused. When I saw that look in her eyes, I had to excuse myself during lunch at school so I could go to the bathroom and silently cry. I had hurt her. I couldn’t bear it.
I never wanted to leave her like this. Not this soon - she was the love of my life, and I knew that I was hers.
She’d say it wasn’t fair. She’d say I couldn’t leave her.
How could I leave Willow like this? How could I die, and leave her? How could I tell her I was dying, even though I was undoubtedly dying?
I had to tell her she’d live a great life without me eventually. She’d be sad for a while, and I knew that, but she would live a great life eventually.
I was sitting on my porch steps, waiting for her arrival. A blanket I had wrapped in a twist next to me.
I had to give her hope. I had to let her know that I had hope for her future. I was dying, but I was going to die knowing I spent most of my life with my favorite person. My best friend. My forever; the love of my life.
Willow.
I sniffed as I held my head back. I was not going to cry again. I was going to keep it together, because I had to. I had to convince her she’d be okay again someday, because I was going to be gone soon.
I hadn’t wanted Willow to miss me when I’d be gone, even though I knew she would. There were never any misunderstandings when it came to how we felt towards one another. We loved each other, and we loved each other so much that we hadn’t wanted to spend time with anyone else. Just me and Willow - Willow and me.
We were just Willow and Kennedy. No one else.
When I’d be gone, she’d be without her other half - me - and I hated that I had to leave her here without me, though there was no other way and we couldn’t try and make it any other way.
Willow and I were screwed. She’d be okay again someday. I’d die and be put at rest, and maybe that was what I needed - but I only thought about what Willow needed. I only thought about Willow’s feelings, and I was scared of how bad fate would hurt them.
Worry was something I wanted to avoid. I only avoided worrying when I was spending time with Willow. At this moment, I needed Willow.
As I stared ahead looking for a distraction, I decided I believed in clockwork. Willow was here. She was pedaling fast on her bicycle. I saw her in the distance, and now she was coming up my driveway. We made eye contact, and I smiled, because usually I couldn’t refrain from smiling every time I saw Willow.
Her smile was tight and fixed there on her beautiful face, but I tried not to pay attention to that. She jumped off her bike, and then she had attacked me.
For a small teenage girl, she hugged forcefully. I expected as much. My arms were wrapped around her just as tightly, and I lifted her up off the ground.
“Hello,” she said into my neck, her breath hitting my skin.
“Hello,” I said, relieved.
I wanted to tell her I loved her. At many points in my life, I thought about just telling her. I never did, though. I always procrastinated regarding th
at idea. I was afraid of losing my best friend. I had two days to tell her before I had to attend my doctor visit. I hadn’t taken advantage of those two days before the doctor visit. I thought it’d be like all the other visits, but I had been surprised. I felt crushed, now, because I couldn’t tell her I loved her. I had a terminal tumor in my brain. I knew I couldn’t get Willow’s hopes up. I couldn’t be a part of her future, and I hadn’t wanted her to think that I could.
I had lost my chance to tell her, but she knew. The need to tell her would never go away, but she knew I loved her. I could die as long as she knew I loved her more than I loved myself.
Spare of the moment affection overload I wanted so badly to unleash on her - but I couldn’t, now. I was thinking I’d be okay with that, because I had this with her. And this with her was the best thing in the world, I believed.
“It’s back, isn’t it?” she asked in a muffled whisper.
I put her down on her feet as she made eye contact with me, and asked, “How bad is it this time?”
I sighed, but I hadn’t said anything. I grabbed the wrapped blanket I had sitting on the step, and I laid it out on the grass close by.
“Come lay down with me,” I said simply.
She crossed her arms. “Kennedy, please answer me,” she urged.
“Can we watch the stars for now?” I countered. “Just for now, Will. Trust me,” I said, trying to ease her into it.
I hadn’t wanted Willow to be scared. I wanted her to be comfortable. I wanted her to feel safe with me.
She gave in, and we laid there for a few seconds. My elbow just barely touched hers when I turned my head to the side so I could see her face, and I said, “There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight. They don’t happen often. They’re probably cool to watch, so I was thinking you’d want to watch one with me.”
A hint of a smile touched her lips.
“I wouldn’t feel right about watching a meteor shower with anyone else,” she responded. “I’ve never seen a flying meteor before.”
“Me, neither,” I admitted. I reached out to grab her hand and I squeezed it as we both looked off, and stared into the sky.
Our Last Time: A Novel Page 13