Loving him was like that feeling you get when you're listening to Stubborn Love by the Lumineers, or the way honey looks when it's in the sun and has a golden shine to it. It was a warm and perfectly broken place to be. Loving him was like a Radical...
My mom loaded my things into her mini van as I sat in the front seat promising Nurse Jackson that I'd take my medications and come to every appointment. Leo sat off in the distance watching me watch him. I waved a little as Jackson walked away, and he gave a small wave back. A wave of relief blended with dread as I realized that Leo was staying because Leo was still sick. I was dying.
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I was done with treatments and remedies and was allowed to leave, because there was literally nothing left to be done but wait for new lungs to show up. He was here because whatever false promise they'd given him had seemed to keep his grasp. They'd taken his leg from him, they told him that he could recover from this and be okay. He believed them. Everyone always does. He was sick and eventually this would all be gone. All that shitty hope would be gone and he'd be gone and I'd be left alone. So I sat there tearing up and waving stupidly as the car drove off and he faded into the shadows of the hospital. I imagined what my sad and desperate life without the hospital and without nurse Jackson, and they all lead back to meeting Leo just days before. How insane was it that I couldn't imagine life without meeting him? I barely knew him, but he was raw and true to life and understood. My mother looked at me and smiled, "I'm so happy you're going home sweetheart." I smiled sappily, "me too mom, me too."
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