What is supposed to be running through your head when you hear the news I just did? That your wife of almost 10 years and the mother of your child is to die? How long is it supposed to take for your brain to comprehend the fact that one day, you'll look over at her side of the bed and it will be empty?
I don’t even remember the ride home from the hospital. I don't remember what I was thinking, doing, or saying. Probably nothing. But what are you supposed to say to the woman you love who has only weeks to live? We arrive home and Marley goes straight to our bedroom. Suspecting the kind of news we might get from the doctor, we dropped Will off at his friend's house for the night, which gives us plenty of time to think.
I walk after her and lean against the door frame, and she looks straight at me. She's still as beautiful as when I first laid eyes on her in our sophomore year of high school. On most days, her eyes still sparkle with the same wonder they did in Glee Club. But today, the light is gone and is replaced by heaviness.
"I think I'm going to take a nap. It's been a long day, and-"
"We need to talk about this, Mar," I interrupt. She just tucks a strand of her newly cut shoulder length hair behind her ear and sighs.
"Ryder, you know I can't," she sighs again, deeper than the first.
"Yes, you can. I'm struggling too, but-"
"You're struggling? I'm the one with the damn brain tumor, Ryder!"
"Marley, you know that's not what I mean…"
"Then what do you mean? You know what, I need to take a walk."
"Let me come with you."
"Alone!"
And with that, she's gone.
