Here & Now // T. Hall Sequel

Chapter 15

Questions? Comments? Concerns?

No but like tell me how you feel.

How am I handling finals week?

Beer and coloring books.

AKA, I'm not.

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The nightingale is a bird that carries both literary and poetic symbolism. The nightingale sings of love, but it is also a symbol of the connection between love and death.

Maybe that's why I got to a tattoo saying, "Will you be my nightingale?"

That's what Taylor is for me. He's my nightingale.

He didn't say anything when I took off my shirt to show him. He ran his finger over the words that were placed just below the underwire of my bra. He grabbed my face, kissing me without any intention of stopping.

"I love you."

"You are my sanity. You are all that I have left. Please, please don't hurt me." I put my right hand over his.

"That part of me is gone, Belly." He whispered, "You are my fiancée. I'm not fucking up."

The next day, he came home with a nightingale tattoo on his side, opposite of mine. I cried. Honestly, I wasn't all about couples tattoos but this was unexpected in all of the best ways.

Home wasn't Taylor, no. Home wasn't my apartment in Edmonton or even back in Georgia. I was lost and without a home but that didn't scare me as much anymore. I was starting to be okay with the fact that Taylor was all I have. I trusted him not to completely shatter me. Well, more so than I had since I got here.

The next step wouldn't be easy. Life proved that when I was screaming in pain on the bathroom floor. No amount of pain meds would help me feel any better. It took a while for Taylor to convince me to go to the hospital, he actually had to carry me out to the car and into the emergency room.

It was test after test after test. Finally, they did an ultrasound. There was a cyst on one of my ovaries.

"It is most likely not cancerous but we are going to remove it and send it to oncology just to be safe." The nurse told me. They had given me an IV so I could be pumped full of drugs. "You'll be going into surgery soon."

I looked over to the hockey player sitting next to me and smiled, "Aren't you supposed to be at practice?"

"Some things are more important than practice, Belly. I'll be here when you get out."

I was in and out of surgery quickly. Didn't have an ugly scar or anything. The hardest part is over, the fun part was just beginning.

"Taylor, where are we going on our honeymoon?"

"Taylor, when are we having kids?"

"Taylor, can we get a cat?"

"Taylor, should I cut my hair?

"Taylor, do you love me?"

"Taylor, why does your team suck so much?"

"Belly, I love you. But for the love of God and all that is holy please shut up." He laughed at all my stupid questions. It's now a proven fact that I'm highly annoying when I'm in pain meds.

I stayed overnight in the hospital, just so that they could watch the incision and monitor the pain. Taylor missed practice. And morning skate. And would miss a game later on if he stayed with me.