The Hateful Heavy Heart | 18+

17 - Joy

Now and then, I still felt urges to push Ruggiero away. However, it was something I was working on and every day, he proved to be sticking by my side. That was especially true with Cleo's health declining more and more as the days passed.

I was worried. I was worried that one day I would walk into Glendshire and she wouldn't be breathing. It didn't help that she refused to take the medicines the doctor prescribed and that she refused to stop eating the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. She couldn't guilt me into giving her any, but she took advantage of my off days and used the other aides' naivety to help her.

For me, the past couple of weeks had been hard. I didn't show her I was worried. She probably could tell that I was still worried because she knew me by the back of her hand, but I did my best to hide it. For me, the past couple of weeks had been hard. But after finding out the news and crying at the apartment with Ruggiero, I tried to detach myself from that reality. The reality that my best friend's time was running out. Despite the fact, I still wanted to share elements of my life with her.

Today, I made it my own Bring-Your-Significant-Other-to-Work Day so that Cleo could meet Ruggiero.

We were standing outside of her room door, waiting to walk in. He was nervous.

He was making me nervous, the way he kept reaching his hand up to fix his hair or the way he kept redoing the buttons on his shirt in the event he buttoned it wrong. "Are you sure I look fine, dolcezza? Or are you just telling me that?" he questioned, his eyebrows pulled together with worry.

I rolled my eyes at him and fussed with my own hair, running my hands through it. I had cut it shoulder-length, in an attempt to switch up my length a little. I was trying to get used to the nine-inch difference, but so far, I liked it. "Yes, Ruggiero, you're meeting Cleo, not the pope."

"You talk about her like she's the pope," he retorted. "I feel like I'm going to have to bow when I greet her."

"Shut up." With that, I turned the knob and pushed open the door, immediately feeling warmed by looking at her. She gave me a small smile before looking at Ruggiero, squinting her eyes at him.

In a voice that was light and raspy, she demanded, "Come closer, please, I feel like my vision's going out." Obediently, the both of us came further inside of the room and stood directly in front of her. She reached out to me, grasping my hand. "Good morning, doll." She then let my hand go and grabbed Ruggiero's. "Good morning to you. I hear you've been making my Jace happy."

I could practically feel Ruggiero's worry diminishing beside me. "I've been trying," he replied, "I've been told you make her very happy, too."

"Well, not many people can handle her, so I'm glad she's found the two of us." She then patted to an open space on the bed. "Sit, handsome. I want to know about you. Tell me a story from your childhood." I smiled at the interaction and how Ruggiero so obediently sat down.

While he entertained her with narratives of his adolescence and she listened with lit eyes, I took the chance to tidy up the room. There wasn't much to clean, as she doesn't move much, but I swept the linoleum. I straightened up the books on the shelf. I refolded the dresses in her drawer. I even washed the four articles of clothing that were in the laundry. Their conversation felt almost melodic to me. It was more than soothing to be in the same room with my two favorite people and to be able to hear their voices at the same moment. I wasn't a huge fan of meditation, but something was meditating about being with both of them.

I knew that this was a moment that would happen only once in a lifetime for me, but I would feel awful if they never occupied each other's presence.

Ruggiero told her several stories about his childhood in Italy, stories that even I hadn't heard, and she never seemed to miss a syllable, reacting almost as if she were there.