Page 102 of Only and Forever

My heart aches. Gently, I unhook my pinkie from hers and wrap her hand in mine. “This feel okay?” I whisper.

She answers me with a faint squeeze. Soft doggy whines emit at the door. I glance back to see Romeo and Juliet, obediently waiting at the threshold, eyes pinned on Tallulah.

Tallulah opens her eyes and sees them, too. She smiles faintly, then lifts her hand, beckoning them to her. They rush her way and clamber over me to rub their snouts on her hand, licking it.

Lula starts to sniffle again, her weary smile fading as fresh tears crest in her eyes.

“Lula, what can I do? More fruit snacks?”

She nods. I tear open the second bag, and her hand leaves the dogs long enough to dive in like last time, emptying all the fruit snacks into her mouth. She shuts her eyes again on another sigh, chewing steadily.

The dogs whine, sniffing the empty fruit snacks bags, me, Tallulah. I pet their heads to calm them.

Tallulah swallows, then sighs as she eases onto her back. The dogs seem to relax as Tallulah does, settling onto their bellies, letting out their own contented sighs.

Slowly, Tallulah turns her head my way and meets my eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Still clasping her hand, I stroke her knuckles with my thumb. “Don’t thank me for that, Lu.”

Her eyes slip shut. But her grip tightens. Her eyes open again, fixed on mine. “Stay?” she whispers.

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. From being up on my knees, I start to lower down to the ground, ready to sit against the bed and simply stay by her side, but she tugs my hand. “Here,” she says, nodding toward the empty side of her bed. “If you don’t mind.”

I glance from the open space on the far side of the bed to her. “You sure?”

She nods, eyes shutting again. “Mm-hmm.”

I crawl onto the bed carefully, settling on top of the sheets. I lie on my side, propping my head on my bent arm, watching her. Tallulah turns toward me and cuddles in, setting her head on my arm, too. “Hold me?” she asks.

I wrap an arm around her, rubbing gently over her back. “Feel okay?”

She nods.

I feel her tears before I realize she’s crying. She’s so quiet, so still inside my arms. I stop my hand’s circling over her back, and I pull away just enough to be able to look at her, to bring my thumb gently beneath her eyes and wipe away her tears.

“Lula,” I whisper. I want to say more, to tell her I’m sorry she has to go through this, to ask if she’s all right, to tell her it kills me to see her cry, that I wish I could take away all that she carries every day with this disease and bear it myself. I pour everything I feelinto those two syllables—Lula—whispered in the darkness, and somehow I know she knows.

She peers up at me, sighing shakily, more tears filling her eyes. “I just get so fucking tired,” she whispers. “Tired of my stupid pod coming off and fucking things up. Tired of waking up low. Tired of going too high when I’m having a perfectly good day and there’s no goddamn reason for it. Tired of trying to do everything right and this stupid disease still manages to pull the rug out from underneath me. It’s claustrophobic, just inescapable. And it’s lonely, so fucking lonely, when I’m the only one who understands, who’s carrying the weight of this disease, the unpredictability of it. I’m so tired—” Her voice breaks, and she burrows into me.

“I’m so sorry, Lula.” I rest my cheek on her head, rubbing her back again. “I can’t imagine how hard it is, how exhausting. I know... I’ll never understand what it’s like to be you, to live with this disease, but... if there’s any way I can carry a little of it, if telling me more or showing me or, or... depending on me more might help, I... I want to do that. I’d... be honored to do that.”

She sniffles and presses her forehead to my sternum. “It helps, just... talking about it sometimes, like this. It helps that you’re not freaking out right now, seeing me low; you gave me what I needed to eat, you stayed, you’re... still here.”

“Of course I am.” I hold her close, my arm wrapping around her waist, and she jumps.

“Watch my pod.” She jerks back, lifting her shirt.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Lu.” Panic knots my stomach. Have I knocked it loose? Made things worse?

Her hand goes to the disc adhered to her stomach. She runs her fingers along the adhesive. Then she leans back, pulls her PDM from the nightstand, and clicks through it. “All good. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure? I’m really sorry, Lu, that’s the last thing—”

Her hand clasps mine. “It’s okay. Promise.”

“Your blood sugar, too? Is it okay now?”

Tallulah’s checking her phone, opening up the app. She glances at the screen, frowning in concentration. Her expression clears slightly before she turns and sets both her phone and her PDM back on the nightstand.

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