I Smell Snow

December 11th

Numb is the best way to describe it. It's the only thing I feel--or rather not feel, as I walk through the buzzing halls of the hospital. It is extremely dreary looking, like the movies. Simply walking these halls saddens me. It's quiet, nurses leaving and entering rooms. Some walk calmly while others are almost running with panicked looks spread across their facial features.

I don't want to think it, I don't want to believe what I am thinking. I hope, god I hope that my thoughts are wrong on this one.

If I'm right, I'll break right here.

"Evangeline, baby, I'm so sorry." Familiar arms envelop me in a hug and normally these arms would feel like a weighted blanket, easing my anxiety but instead they made me feel cold. My mom only hugs me like this when she knows I will need the comfort and protection.

I wish she would not apologize. It's only making me think the absolute worst.

"Mom," I croak, "I need to see him."

My mom pulls away from me and sets her arms on my shoulders. She takes one good look at my puffy red eyes and wipes the continuous rolling tears away with her thumb.

She points to your hospital room and my legs feel as if they are weighted down by the universe. With a shaky hand and my breath held in, I push the door open.

"Lumberjack."

Why are you smiling. Stop smiling when I can clearly see you are not ok. Nothing is ok. You look pale and your sparkling blue-green eyes are now dull. It is like the life has been sucked out of them. You are trying to act cheery but you cannot hide from me Theodore. You are exhausted.

So, why the hell are you smiling? Don't you dare try to pull the "it's all ok" crap on me.

A cough pulls me away from your lingering gaze.

"Mr. Anderson," I mumble, trying my best to muster a smile.

Your dad is sitting in the chair beside you, a sad smile on his face. "Evangeline. It's nice to see you. I'll give you two some space," He says before excusing himself.

As soon as the door shuts, you speak up as if you've been holding this in for a while now.

"Please always wear oversized flannels. I'm so turned on," You say huskily--which is something I've never heard before from you. A smirk is on your face but my expression remains blank; numb.

"Oh Eva, don't look at me like that. Come here," You stretch your arms out and like a magnet; I am gravitated towards you.

Your hand is cold as I lace our fingers together. I take a seat in the chair that your dad was sitting at moments ago. It is still warm, as if he has sat here for hours...which he probably did. How long have you been here before my mom mustered up the courage to call me?

You brush a fallen hair out of my face and smile weakly at me. Your dimples manage to make an appearance and in that split moment, I genuinely smile, just for a second.

"Tell me it's not what I think it is, Theo. Tell me I'm wrong...please."

You squeeze your eyes shut and when you open them again, I see the hurt in your eyes. Your fingers brush the fresh set of tears off of my skin. Your calloused, cold hand sends shivers down my body. Your hand stops above my lip and through this whirlwind of emotion, I kiss your hand softly, shutting my eyes.

"Evangeline, I told you I was sick." I shake my head, not wanting to open my eyes. I don't even want to be here. I hate hospitals. This is all a nightmare, it's not real. I've got to be imagining it all...right?

But when I open my eyes, you are still in front of me and I know this is painfully real. I move to sit at the edge of your hospital bed. "No Theodore, you said you were in remission," my voice cracks. "You said you were cured."

The hardest thing is looking at you right now. It's seeing you smiling when I know there is a load of pain behind those eyes. "It came back, Eva"

"No." I shake my head, lifting my body off the chair and throwing myself onto you. It is then when I foolishly realize you are weak right now and I am being selfish by collapsing my body onto yours. When I am about to pull back, your arm instinctively wraps around my waist. I take that as a signal and bury my head in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through my hair in attempt to soothe me.

"It's back Eva. And it's spread. The lung cancer has spread." You cough lightly and I back away from your body, concerned.

"But you can go back into remission right?" I plead.

"It's stage 2B, my lumberjack," You laugh softly. I know you are trying to lighten the mood--make this seem as if it isn't as bad. "There's a possibility yes, but it's not as likely." The last part is whispered.

I lift my head, my eyes are puffy and red. I brush your hair to the side and place a kiss on your forehead, getting some tears on your face. I'm sorry.

But then you turn your face to the side, looking away from me. "I told you this when we ran into each other again."

I instantly lift myself up into a seated position. "So this is my fault? For getting attached?" I stare at you, feeling completely ridiculed. I slide off the hospital bed and back away.

How dare you. It's not like you pushed me away either. You let me fall for you, you helped me fall for you. This is not my fault, don't make it my fault.

"No that's not what I meant. You knew I was sick. You knew the consequences. This isn't some fairytale Evangeline."

I take another step back.

"You said you were in remission," I cried, my voice getting louder. "I knew the consequences but so did you Theo. So did you! You pulled me closer. Why Theo? Why'd you have to let me fall for you?"

At the mention of that, your expression softens. "We still have some time. Eva, I like you."

The tears are nonstop now. "I like you too Theo. But maybe you are right. I know the consequences and I don't think I can go on anymore." I am being selfish but in this moment, I could care less.

"Evangeline, no. We have time, come here, let me hold you." Your lip begins trembling. The pain we are both feeling in this exact moment is far from fair. Yet, I will not allow myself to be blamed for falling for you. You more than anyone knew the consequences and still allowed it to go along.

I wipe my own tears with the back of my hand. "You're right. This isn't some fairytale. I can't do this, whatever it is, anymore."

I back away, not losing eye contact. Your eyes gloss over and it takes my everything to not run back and let you hold me. I want to feel your arms around me. I want to relish in the warmth and safety of your arms but I cannot.

"Eva," you cry, "don't do this."

I don't have the words. Shaking my head, I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, letting the lingering tears fall. I try not to break in front of you. I release a shaky breath and turn around, away from your pain stricken face.

I exit the room and I don't even make it to my car. I stop at an empty hallway and collapse onto the cold tile floor. Body shaking sobs escape my lips as I wrap my arms around myself, wishing they were yours. A nurse approaches me but I wave her off, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

I think I may need my dad to help me get over this heartbreak right about now.