Page 119 of Goodbye Again
Audrey Cline:I used to read articles and watch documentaries about how sick people know when they’re going to die. I used to think it was bullshit.
I swallow hard as I read, the dots bubbling as she types the next text. I wait on bated and painful breath.
Audrey Cline:But it’s not bullshit. My time is almost up.
My hand grows cold as I read the text from the phone in my hand. “No, Audrey. Don’t give up. You’re still fighting. You still have so much life left in you—”
She waves an aggressive hand in the air, making me shut up.
“It’s not giving up,” she croaks and winces. I can physically see the pain on her face. She takes a moment, straining against a swallow, then says, “It’s realizing you’re reading the last page of a book, and knowing the story is going to end. No epilogue. No book two.”
I’m certain if you could hear a heart break, that would be the only sound in the room. The therapist in me wants to applaud her awareness and discuss her end of life feelings, emotions, and wishes. But the friend in me feels my mind shift into denial.
She begins typing again. I wait with quiet tears for her next words to arrive.
Audrey Cline:But what happens when I’m gone? Who’s going to be there for JP?
My breathing stops as I read it.
“You have to be,” she croaks and her brow creases as she speaks through the pain.
Chills rise on my flesh as I stare at her a moment before answering. “Of course. Wouldn’t want him to end up on a 48-hour hold...” My attempt at dark humor falls flat.
She stares at me so intensely it’s as if she believes she can telepathically communicate with me. It works. She doesn’t mean to drop off meals and call him every once in a while. It feels like she’s asking, will I love him? Will I be his, and he be mine? Will I pull out of the life I’m creating because I loved him once?
Donavan flies through my mind because his ring is still on my finger and I shake my head. “I don’t think you realize what you’re asking.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking,” she responds, not missing a beat even though her words are etched with physical pain. “Consider it my blessing and my apology.”
My shoulders tense, and I squint at the word apology.
“I have no doubt he would be with you if I didn’t get sick.” She grimaces and I don’t know if it’s the pain of her words or just the pain of the sores in her mouth. She scoops up her phone and starts typing furiously.
I chew on the side of my cheek, biting off layers of flesh and swallowing them until the inside of my mouth burns in response.
Finally, my phone buzzes but when I don’t swipe to unlock it, she nods forcefully at it. I obey and open the text from her.
Audrey Cline:JP loved me once. And I loved him but we could never get it right. We never would and we never will. But we do respect each other—we’re family, not because we got married but because we’ve known each other for so damn long. And if there’s one thing we both know about JP, he is good. Truly good. Pure and kind and relentlessly thoughtful. He married me to give me a fighting chance. And maybe that makes him the hero and me the selfish one, but I want you to know I’m grateful for the extra time he’s given me. Every minute of it. But I’m not going to make it and he’s going to need you.
My eyes cloud over and I blink. Two solid streams travel down my face and land on my chest.
“I’m getting married,” I whisper, wiping the wetness off my chest.
Her stare is blank, but hints of anger flash in her brown irises. Her mouth twists and she shakes her head, adamant and slow. “Only if you’re sure.”
I don’t have words to respond. Something winds up tightly in my chest, pulling tighter until I can barely breathe. I don’t say I am and I don’t say that I’m not. I just open the book and keep reading until it’s time to leave, hoping I find the right words to say.
I don’t, though. I just tell her I love her over and over until, one day, I can’t anymore.
thirty-four
THE FUNERAL WAS BEAUTIFUL.
At least that’s what I’m supposed to say, but if I’m honest, I never think they are.
Funerals are just fucking sad. And if we’re all honest with ourselves... they’re a little weird. A bunch of people from every aspect of her life showed up to pay their respects and ate stale cookies in a church foyer with somber faces and hushed voices.
The church was packed, but I felt an odd disconnect from the entire service. I didn’t hear Audrey in the music or see her in the priests that spoke. There is something beautiful and sacred about the rituals and prayers of the church, but there’s also something that has always struck me as forced and memorized.
