It took me a while to get used to how close you would keep me at times. It seemed like it was all or nothing with you, you were either keeping me at a distance or borderline smothering. Our first few nights together, I would wake up in the middle of the night from how tight you were holding me. One arm wrapped around my waist, the other across my shoulders, pulling me back against your chest, your nose nuzzling at the back of my neck. It felt like you thought I would disappear if you didn't hold me tight enough. The thought that you were still so worried about losing me broke my heart, leaving me crying silently as I saw the sky lightening, hoping that maybe today would be the day that I could see you let go. See you come back. See your heart mending.
.
.
.
It took several minutes to get the receptionist to focus and give me your room number. I left her at the front desk calling out directions and telling me visiting hours would be over at 5 this evening. I don't remember the walk. I don't remember navigating the hallways, but I remember standing outside your door, not wanting to knock, not wanting to admit that this was happening.
A nurse comes bustling out with a chart, giving me a nod as she passed me in the doorway, and I catch a glimpse of you, even thinner than the last time I saw you, your hair losing its shine, eyes pained and sunken. I let the door close in my face, too much of a coward to face you.
After what feels like hours, but the clock insists was only about five minutes, I finally work up the nerve to slip into the room. You were on your side, staring out the window and trying to breathe deeply, your thinning muscles tensing as waves of pain rolled over you. I want nothing more than to go to you and hold you, but something is holding me back. Why would you hide something like this from me?
"This is what you weren't telling me?"
Your head whips around and you yelp, your hand going straight to your neck. "This is what you were telling me not to worry about?"
"Chris..." You breathe out, disbelieving,
"How could you tell me not to worry about this? How could you think I shouldn't know that you're sick?" You shift yourself to your back to look at me more easily, wincing with every move.
"I asked you to let this drop-"
"I know what you asked but I-"
"There's nothing you can do!" I flinch at the crack in your voice, after a few shaky breathes, you continue, "I was diagnosed with this years ago. I did all the treatments, fought until I was just about ready to give in. I thought I was done. We all thought we got rid of it, but earlier this year it showed up again."
"So, you're out of remission. Isn't that normal? People beat cancer even when they've come out of remission, right?" You wince again as you pinch the bridge of your nose,
"I don't care if it's normal, or if it's beatable, Chris. However I look at it..." you trail off and turn away from me suddenly, your shoulders trembling,
"Hey, hey, I'm sorry." I jump forward, sliding onto the bed next to you, I want to rub your back, but last time that didn't seem to go over too well. "I just... I don't know what to do here."
"I know." You sniffle,
"I still can't understand why you wouldn't want me to know about this. We've been together for over a year, and I never knew you had cancer."
"Have... I have cancer, Chris." Your voice is so small I can't stand it, I scoot closer, stretching out behind you and running my fingers through your hair. "I'm sorry." You sob, "I didn't want to drop this bomb on you when everything was going so well. For all I know this round of treatment will get rid of it for good. I was just hoping I would be able to keep it under wraps and you wouldn't have to deal with it."
"Deal with what? You're the one fighting right now. And I'm here. I'm always here if you need me. Whether or not you want me to be." I chuckle, smoothing your hair back and planting a kiss behind your ear. I hear you giggle, although it comes out with a groan,
"I know you're here." You turn over to face me, with some effort, "And I know this is big... And I'm so scared." I brush away a few tears as they start to fall, framing your face and pulling you to me. I kiss you lightly, resting my forehead on yours as you calm down, pulling yourself together.
"Listen to me," I pull you closer to me, trying to be sensitive to the aches you were feeling, "You are amazing. You are one of the strongest women I've ever known-"
"One of?" You ask, cheekily,
"Sweetheart, you've met my mother." You snort at me, nodding.
"This is true. I wish I was as strong as that woman."
"You are. I will never stop marveling at that, but you do not need to do this alone. And I'm going to make sure you don't. I know your family is gone, but you are more a part of my family than you could know. So whatever happens, I will be right here. Anything you need, tell me. I love you so much, you're not getting rid of me any time soon."
I stayed on that bed with you until visiting hours ended, running my fingers through your hair as your aches slowly faded, holding your hair back when your stomach was upset by your treatment, holding you as tight as I could without hurting you. Before I left, we made sure the hospital had me listed as your emergency contact, and I promised I would be back the next day. Stepping out into the evening foot traffic in Boston, it hits me how different everything is now. The sunset feels less like the picturesque beauty it is and more like an hourglass running low.
I needed help. I couldn't sit alone at my apartment, so I grabbed my phone, dialing the first number that came to mind, bouncing my right leg as the line rang,
"Hello?"
"...Hey Mom."
