Love, Poetry, & Coffee

~ 50 ~

"That's not possible," I accidentally blurt that out without even thinking about the chances of it being possible.

Constance crosses her arms together like some kind of lawyer trying to defend her client. "I'm sorry, do you want me to bring up a family tree and put each of my family members' genetics and use the Punnett square just to show you it is indeed possible?"

I want to laugh at her, but I couldn't since this whole conversation became a serious matter. Too bad, I'm not good at being serious when someone made a funny in front of me. So, in result, I chuckle a bit and that seems to have helped since I can see a smile tugging on Constance's face. Although I'm laughing here, I still feel heavy inside after learning that information about her. "But your syndrome has a cure, right?"

The smile on her face fades quickly and changes into a slight frown, "If there was a cure, then my mom could have been living and breathing today."

Oh crap, I should have thought about that before saying it. I'm on a roll on being an idiot. "Tell me your condition isn't a life-threatening kind." I desperately want to hope that the condition is just by chance of dying, but I already concluded that it is one.

She raises her hands in a surrender gesture, "Okay then, I'll tell you that it is not a life-threatening kind." Her sarcastic tone did not help me calm all my nerves down. The fact that she's still acting like herself while this kind of conversation is at place makes me want to salute at how joyful she is to be alive. A sigh escapes her lips once she realized that all of my muscles are still stiff. "This condition is actually rare, but it's quite serious. It can cause the heart to beat dangerously fast, and that alone can be life-threatening." Her breath hitches for a bit as if she's fighting the urge to cry, "The condition can sometimes be described as nocturnal death syndrome." A single tear had fallen from her eyes and her head is suddenly against my aching chest. "That's why I'm terrified that I won't be able to wake up the next day. Scared that I'm already gone without me even knowing-without even saying goodbye."

I try my best to hold her tightly between my arms. If she's scared to die, I'm here feeling terrified to loss her. It's funny how I get so attach to people I already met for like a week. Or perhaps that's just Constance's soul being amazingly memorable. "Shh, it'll be okay. You survived-you're still here, living and breathing. You will survive again for the long run." When she begins to sob against my chest, I attempt to cup her cheeks to gesture her to look at me. "Hey," It's been a while since I use my comforting tone of voice, and I've missed it for some reason. Once her brown eyes filled with tears gaze back at me, my chest ached even more from seeing her cry like this. "Want to learn something I've figured out when I'm hanging out with you?"

"What is it?" Her voice sounds so hoarse from crying, but that didn't make me let go of her. I swear, I'll hold her near me until the end.

"Tragedies often disguise as something you can use in your life." When she tilts her head at an angle, I force myself to chuckle despite the pain in my chest. The laugh sounds painful, but I did promise myself that I'll make her happy just being myself. "Some people use their tragedies as a mask to hide from the world. While some use them as shackles." I hope I'm making sense with what I'm saying because my brain begins to shut down since the pain in my chest is getting worse by the second. "You, my dear madam, you wear it like shackles. Afraid to be free with your minimal life. Afraid you'll hurt someone else." I graze a finger against her cheeks to wipe away the single tear falling from her beautiful brown eyes. "So piece of advice, wear your tragedies as armor, not as shackles."

That made me receive a small smile from her, "It's great I've helped someone realize some crucial information about living before I pass away."

"Hey," I grab both her shoulders and turn her around facing me before she could even walk away with that statement. "You're not going to pass away, you will not." Is it just me, or I have a feeling we're in some kind of Hollywood set? Well, the gentle breeze had slowly swept some strands of her hair while appreciation shines brightly in her eyes.