The Hateful Heavy Heart | 18+

16 - Oh, Cleo

Once the morning arrived, Ruggiero and I woke at half-past eight and while I got ready for work, he enjoyed a bowl of cereal. He was being kind enough to drop me off at Glendshire before going home to grab his uniform.

"Call me when you're off," he instructed me. "Be good, dolcezza."

"Of course," I assured him. I gave him a quick kiss on the lips before pushing my door open. I hopped out of the car, shutting the door. Ruggiero waited until I was inside, safe from the crisp, fall air, to drive off down the street.

I felt like a kid again as I stood in my light blue scrubs in front of the glass doors, watching him drive off with a large smile on my face. With a sigh of content, I clocked in and headed off to my first destination: Cleo.

When I walked into her room, she was looking toward the door with a knowing smile. "You look happy," she observed. She then looked toward the dresser across from her. "Pass me that People Magazine, will you?"

With a roll of my eyes, I grabbed the magazine and laid it gently on her lap. It was an older issue with David Beckham on the front, giving him the title of the sexiest man alive. "I don't know if happy is the word I'd use." I circled the bed, trying to keep the grin off my face.

"Whatever you are," she said, "is much better than whatever you were two days ago. You looked awful. Now you look...better."

"I feel better," I told her truthfully. "Ruggiero and I talked and we are better than ever. How are you?" I slid onto the bed in the open spot next to her and laid my head on her shoulder. "You feeling alright?"

She grunted and I turned my head toward her, looking up at her. "Well, I got a check-up yesterday. I'm sick. Good thing I'm in hospice, right?"

Panicked, I hastily sat up. "What do you mean you're sick?" I demanded. She gave me a look of nonchalance and rolled her eyes. "And this isn't hospice. It's a nursing home."

"Jace, I can barely wipe my own ass. It's hospice," she argued. One of her hands reached up to comb through my hair. Her weathered face softened as her eyebrows pulled together in sincerity. "I told Doctor Margo Howard of some things I'd been feeling and we ran a couple tests and boom." She snapped her fingers. "I have coronary artery disease."

"Coronary artery disease?" I repeated. I licked my lips and released a deep sigh. "We can fix this, right? Doctor Howard can give you medications or angioplasty or even sur—"

"Jace," she snapped. "I'm sixty-five, my legs are useless, and I've been living in this nursing home for over a year now. I'm not doing surgery. I'm not taking any medications and I'm not undergoing angioplasty. It's pointless."

"Cleo, you could at least change your diet. I know you love Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but your constant dairy intake is only going to cause you more harm than good." Shaking my head, I stood up. "Cleo, I don't want to lose you."

She just stared at me from where she sat in bed, eyes bright and sad. Her gray hair was in a side braid that hung over her left shoulder and laid against the pink of her dress. "I know, darling, but I am old. And I am tired of this. My life has been stagnant."

At that point, I stopped fighting with her. Cleo was stubborn and once she made her mind up, it was hard to change it. In addition to that, I was being selfish. I loved Cleo. I adored Cleo more than anything in the world and the fact that she was just going to wait to die...it was hard for me to fathom. I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I just mumbled an "I love you, Cleo."

She gave me a sad smile and nodded her head. She then opened her arms wide, gesturing for me to come to her. I did so with little complaints, crawling beside her in the bed and letting her embrace me. Fuck professionalism. My best friend was dying.

"I know, baby," she said, coddling me. "I love you, too, more than you'll ever know." Cleo pressed her lips to my forehead and I closed my eyes, putting my arms around her. After a few moments, she said, "Can you get me some Cinnamon Toast Crunch?"

I opened my eyes and sat up, glaring at her. "Cleo," I scolded, "what did I just tell you about all that dairy?"

She waved me off with her hand and rolled her eyes. "Then just get me the dry cereal. It's all I'm asking for."

I shook my head at her, but still lifted myself off of the bed and left the room. If she wanted cereal, then I'd give it to her.

When I returned with the bowl of dry cereal, she was sleeping softly, her hands crossed over her chest. The image scared me, as I knew that there was a possibility that the next time I saw her like that, she could be dead.

❁

I was quiet when Ruggiero picked me up from work. I️ had simply given him a 'hello' and shut the door behind me. It didn't help that he kept the radio off and all I could hear was the asphalt of the street underneath his tires.

I could tell that he wanted to talk to me, but he seemed to understand that I didn't quite want to talk. I didn't know where to start. All I wanted to do was break down and curse and scream. Cleo didn't deserve this.

She was such a kind, good-spirited woman, and yet she was forsaken with coronary artery disease?

My hands fisted at my sides and I leaned back in my seat, refusing to let any tears fall. As much as I was angry about the fact that she was...dying, I had to acknowledge and appreciate the fact that I still had time before she was to be mourned.

I hadn't lost her yet.

By the time we reached my apartment, I still hadn't said another word to Ruggiero. I had been strong the entire day, I had been strong to stop myself from being selfish about Cleo's illness. However, I didn't know if I could keep that same composure around Ruggiero. I was silent as we walked into the complex and silent when I unlocked the door.

"You didn't even see that your car was in the parking lot, did you?" Ruggiero asked me, softly.

I shook my head at him as I removed my shoes by the door. "No, sorry. Thanks, baby."

"You okay, dolcezza? Is it me? Are you rethinking this?" he questioned me. And though I wasn't ready to tell him, to share my sorrows with him, I would have to be. The last thing I wanted him to think was that I was having second thoughts about wanting him. I knew I wanted him.

"It's not you." I grabbed onto one of his arms to anchor me and took a deep breath. "It's Cleo. She's...she's been diagnosed with coronary artery disease."

Ruggiero brought me into his arms and held me to him. Even if he didn't know the right words to say, his comfort was enough. I appreciated fact that he didn't beg me to continue. He pressed his lips to my forehead before whispering, "I'm sorry."

"Is it selfish of me to want her to stay?" I leaned further into him, breathing in his scent, trying to calm myself. "She doesn't want to undergo any treatments."

"And that's her right. But the one thing you can do is continue to be the friend she needs. I know you love her. Make sure you are still showing her the love and support that she needs until God decides to bring her home." I simply nodded. Ruggiero loosened the hug and took my hand in his, leading me through the apartment. He led me to my bedroom, where I sat down on the bed and he lowered himself to his knees. He began removing my socks.

I raised my arms for him so that he could remove my top. He laid my shirt on the ground next to my socks, before returning to the space in front of me. He pressed a kiss to my neck and then my jaw and then my lips.

"I love you, Jace."

"I love you, too."

"I like your bra. It's a little plain," he said, referring to the black t-shirt bra I was wearing, "but it looks good on you."

"Thanks," I told him, managing a small smile.

"Let's go have a bath, dolcezza."

"Okay."

-
Are you enjoying the story? Drop a vote, a comment, and dive into Jace's world.