Chasing the End

six

3 weeks later

July 2013

~~~

Three weeks of utter bliss went by with Rider. He kept his word. He made every day a day to remember. And even though I was drunk and dizzy from the newness of someone being so caring, it felt yet so familiar. Like we were made to meet each other. It was out of this world.

I was close to my end. I could feel it. Breathing was becoming more difficult, my heart rate was slowing down, and my limbs were getting weaker by the second it seemed. My petals were starting fall of at a faster pace.

“It kind of feels as if I’m the one who’s dying.”

Rider said that to me.

It broke my heart into a million different pieces. It showed me how much it was hurting him that I was dying. It showed me that he had absolutely no friends, just me. It felt so odd; knowing what it was like to be on the other side. I was the supporter or the outcast. That was the only thing we had in common. We were so different from everybody else. But I’m pretty sure that if Rider was like everyone else, he would only be friends with me because he felt sorry for me.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked.

“Because I like you.”

“You don’t have to be friends with me.”

“But I want to.”

My feelings for him grew, if that was even possible. Everything he said, everything he did; not to sound cheesy, but he was probably one of the most astonishing human beings alive.

I was sitting in my bed at the hospital, my mom clutching my hand and my dad running his hands through hair while he paced around the room.

“Dad-.”

“What?” he snapped.

“I’m going to be okay,” I lied.

“I’m trying to believe that Kate.”

I sighed and my mom rubbed slow circles on my hand with her thumb, probably trying to bring the color back to skin.

“Excuse me,” Dr. Smith said through the intercom. “There’s a boy here named Rider and apparently he said that he’s Mary-Kate’s brother.”

Mom looked at me and I shook my head. She got up and clicked the button on the intercom. “Send him up.”

Dr. Smith knew that I didn’t have any siblings. She knew that Rider was just my friend, but she was generous enough to pretend that she believed us.

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“It’s going to be okay sweetie,” mom said.

“No, I mean that I don’t want Rider to see me like this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s going to break his heart.”

“Rider is a strong boy, he’ll keep himself together. Believe me.”

The door knob on the door jiggled before Rider stuck his head full of dark curls - that were covered by a black beanie that day - into the room, his usual smile spread across his pink lips. He made his way inside – our gazes locking on each other - closing the door softly behind him, and took a seat next to my bed.

I smiled at him, making no effort to sit up and greet him properly.

“We’ll give you two some privacy,” my mom interrupted our gazes.

“We will?” my dad questioned.

“Yes, we will.”

My mom practically dragged my dad out of the room, leaving Rider and I alone it the cheerless atmosphere of the hospital room.

“How are you feeling?” he took a hold of my small hand, his eye filled with anxiety.

“Tired,” I sighed.

“I can tell. You have massive bags under your eyes.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” I said sarcastically. “How are you feeling?”

“Sad.”

“I can tell.”

His eyes were puffy as hell, and he had bags as well.

“Rider?”

“Mary-Kate?”

“Why do you care about me?”

“Same reason your mom cares about you. Because I love you.”

“Now’s not the time for that crap Rider.”

“What crap?”

“I’m dying. You don’t love. You just feel like you do because before you had no one.”

He dropped my hand onto the, let me mention uncomfortable, bed. I could see the pain and heartbreak in his eyes.

“Wow,” he breathed. “I’m telling you I love you because I mean it Kate.”

Kate. I could hear the cracking of my heart. “Listen, I don’t believe in love. I don’t believe in happy endings or perfect relationships.”

“You don’t believe in a lot of things.”

I didn’t want to get mad at him. I didn’t want him to get mad at me. I don’t want his last words to be, I love you, and mine to be, don’t say that. I didn’t want to believe that I loved anyone. So I pushed away every single ounce of any kind of love I had for him away.  

“Rider,” I started.

“I don’t want to talk right now,” he cut me off.

“Please, talk to me.”

He shook his head and hung his head down. He got up from his seat and made his way to the door. “I-I have to go. Bye, Kate.”

My heart had officially broken apart. He shut me out. He cut me off from him. He wanted nothing to do with me. I broke his heart.

That’s when the tears started to come. Each and every droplet of hot tears was a small amount of love I denied having for Rider, dropping onto the pale skin of my collar bones and my arms.