Eminent Love (24 page)

“I never will,” I said, even though she’d fallen asleep. I dropped my head and released the agony her words had caused. “I fucking love you, Yen. I love you so damn much it hurts. I don’t want to live without you. I
can’t
live without you. Don’t leave me. Please, God, don’t take her. I’ll do anything…just don’t take her from me.”

I continued to cry until all my tears dried up. Exhaustion consumed me, lulling me to sleep.

S
tarting the following day
, instead of spending the afternoons in the children’s corner, I went to Layne and Drea’s apartment. It wasn’t easy going through her things and placing them in boxes, but by the second day, I began to find an ounce of joy in it. She’d kept so many things from when we were together, and going through it all had brought back so many memories. By the third day, I realized I’d put blinders on. Taking note of everything in her room, reliving the memories of our relationship, only allowed me to convince myself she wasn’t dying. This realization came to me as I went through her nightstand and found the to-do list we’d made years ago. I sat on the edge of her bed, thinking of taking her to San Francisco to ride on a trolley after she gets out of the hospital.

But reality settled in, blanketing me with overwhelming grief.

I quickly folded the paper and shoved it into my back pocket. If I had to write these things on the whiteboard in her room, I would. I’d do anything to offer even the slightest bit of motivation—not that I thought she didn’t have any, but because I understood what it was like to suffer through moments of hopelessness. Maybe I was the one who needed the inspiration.

I finished with her nightstand and moved to the tiny desk in the corner of the room. The top of it was cleaned off, which hadn’t surprised me. Layne hated clutter. So I assumed going through the two drawers would be easy—until I opened the top one and noticed an envelope with my name on it. I picked up it, immediately noticing the black box beneath it. Profound dolor slammed into me, leaving behind invisible bruises. My ribcage felt decimated, as if every bone had broken into tiny pieces. I couldn’t hold myself upright any longer.

Tears clouded my vision. I slumped forward in the chair, opened the box, and lightly touched the diamond I’d bought for her just over a year ago. The envelope taunted me from the desktop until I ripped it open and painfully read each word written in Layne’s loopy letters. I’d seen her handwriting so many times before in love notes she’d leave around the house for me, but what she’d written in this letter didn’t make my heart soar or fill with excited happiness. It left me empty and shattered. Hollow and nearly nonexistent.

D
ear Creed
,

I’ve held onto this ring long enough, hoping you’d come back and put it on my finger. However, I can no longer wait. I’m assuming your silence means you’ve moved on, even though my heart tells me differently. Either way, it’s time for me to. Your love will always be with me, no matter where I am, but holding onto this glimmer of a promise won’t do me any good. It’s time I give it back in the hopes you move on (if you haven’t already). I’m not sending this back out of spite, or to hurt you in any way. Please know I’d never do that to you. Causing you pain is the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do. But it’s time to let you go. You deserve to be happy, to find someone who won’t up and leave or give you an ultimatum. And I hope by letting you go, you will be able to find that.

What we had was real, and our relationship had a meaningful purpose for us both. I wouldn’t trade what we shared for the world. I will never regret a single moment of our time together. I just wanted you to know that. I wouldn’t blame you for hating me forever, and for that, I’m truly sorry. You have so much love in you, so much to offer someone else, and my only wish is for the anger to fade long enough for your heart to open and allow someone to love you the way I did.

Please don’t try to contact me. This is my last goodbye. You never responded to the email I sent you, so I’m not holding my breath that I’ll hear back from this, but in the event you feel the need to say something, I ask for you to keep it to yourself. Again, this isn’t meant to hurt you. I only want the pain to end. I’m hoping this will provide relief for us both.

I love you now and always,

Layne.

I
grabbed the black box
, the letter clutched tightly in my hand, and ran from her apartment. I knew I’d be interrupting her time with her parents, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t let anything stop me from saying what I needed to say. For days my thoughts had bounced around in my head anytime we were alone, urging me to get them out. However, I hadn’t been able to formulate them into words. I knew how I felt, yet it proved difficult to express them in any way other than holding her hand or listening to her talk before she fell asleep. Now, after reading her goodbye letter and realizing she’d had the ring this entire time, nothing could hold me back. Even if what I had to say made no sense to her.

I stormed into her room, startling her parents. Dark circles accentuated Layne’s eyes, making her exhaustion apparent. But she was still awake, and I found myself releasing a sigh of contentment. I didn’t bother greeting anyone or wasting time before making it to her side. My gaze remained locked on hers, my heavy feet carrying me closer until I found myself perched next to her. I pressed the control buttons on the rail and raised the back of the bed until she sat upright. Her pinched brow expressed discomfort, and as much as I didn’t want to do that to her, I couldn’t allow it to stifle what I needed her to hear.

“You wrote me a goodbye letter?” I held it up in front of her, creased from my grasp.

“I needed you to let go, and I didn’t know any other way to do it. I didn’t want to risk you finding out about the cancer, so I wanted you to believe I’d moved on. I told you already, Creed…I never wanted you to live with the grief of my death. And I had no use for the ring anymore.”

“So you decided you’d give it back?”

She shrugged and quickly glanced over my shoulder, probably at her parents.

I took her left hand and held it open, palm up, exactly as I’d planned to do the day she came home after her interview. I traced the creases with the tip of my finger before outlining her hand. I’d done this several times over the course of our relationship, each time meaning more than the last. Realizing this would be the final time choked me up, but I had to press on. I couldn’t stop or allow the grief of reality to hinder my purpose.

“In your palm, I see my future.” My voice came out in a higher pitch than usual, anguish choking me until each syllable was filled with so much pain it became physical. My chest actually hurt. My stomach twisted into knots so tight I was sure they’d never come undone. However, I couldn’t stop. “Because you hold my entire life in your hands. You hold my happiness, my excitement, and my love. I’ve always put you first”—I had to swallow the regret of those words, words I had planned to say a year ago, no longer holding true—“but right now, I’m going to be selfish. I’m going to ask you to marry me, because spending the rest of our lives together is the only thing that’ll make me whole.” By the time I was done and had the ring between my fingers, my words were nothing but aching cries. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she didn’t understand anything I’d just said.

“No, Creed.” She grabbed my hand, stopping me from placing the ring on her finger. Her resistance forced me to look her in the eyes, noticing the paths of fresh tears on her face as well. “I can’t marry you.”

My shoulder curled in and my head fell forward. My body shook as I released everything. I didn’t care who was in the room, or who saw me break down. My pride no longer meant anything to me.

Layne held the sides of my face and pulled me a little closer. “I don’t want to get married in a hospital room, or to have my last words be ‘I do.’ You don’t need to propose to me. I’ve always been yours, and you’ve always been mine. We don’t need to do this to prove anything.”

“I have nothing to prove, Layne. Other than this is your ring, and as such, it belongs on your finger. I don’t want some morbid wedding with you. Those were the words I was going to say to you the day everything fell apart, and I realized I needed you to hear them. I need to put this ring on your finger, no matter what the outcome may be. This is yours.” I held up the ring again. “Not mine. If you make me keep it, I’ll never be able to do anything with it. I’ll never be able to sell it, and I sure as hell will never be able to give it to anyone else. I only wanted you to have it. I want you to know you’ll always be with me.”

She nodded and held her hand out, allowing me to slide the ring onto her finger. “At the risk of sounding completely morose…what’s the use in me wearing it? I mean…if I’m buried…”

“At least it’ll be on your finger for eternity.”

She held my face again and pulled me closer until her lips met mine. “I love you, Yang.”

I kissed her more, ignoring the sniffles in the room behind me. “I know. And I love you, too, Yen. I’ll always love you.”

That night, after Drea came back up for dinner, Layne had requested us all to be in the room in the morning. Other than brief moments in passing, we all hadn’t been together, and she felt the need for us all to communicate. Not once did I think anything of it, other than Layne’s obsessive need to plan and have everything in order. Drea didn’t have to leave for a shift, so it would give us all plenty of time to come together. And she wanted to do it before the next evaluation on Monday in the event the results offered more bad news.

That was Layne…always thinking of others.

And as I fell asleep with her in my arms, she was the only one on my mind.

I
’d been
up for hours, since the onslaught of nurses arrived before five. I wasn’t sure what they were doing, and none of them bothered to fill me in, but I could tell it was different than before. This wasn’t the typical changing of the guards. They’d asked me to move off the bed before I overheard phrases like “unresponsive” and “any time now.”

The sun hadn’t even risen yet and I was already taking off my rose-colored glasses.

She wouldn’t restart her treatment in a few days.

The weight crippled me, leaving me curled over her bedside, holding her hand, the tears of reality falling steadily. Drea had warned me, told me I needed to be realistic about the outcome. Even though I thought I’d done that, I understood now how wrong I’d been. When you love someone to the depths of your soul, it’s impossible to accept losing them. You can prepare for it, brace yourself for the inevitable, but when the cold truth stares you in the face, it hammers a blow so crushing it shakes your foundation.

After sitting alone with Layne, nothing but the sounds of the machines filling the void in the room, I called Drea. I told her about what I’d heard the nurses say, how Layne had been unconscious since falling asleep last night, and I suggested she and their parents come to the hospital as soon as they could.

It hadn’t taken them long at all to show up. Everyone came into the room at once. I didn’t need to see a mirror to know what I looked like, I could feel it. My eyes were swollen from the continual onslaught of tears as I’d silently told Layne how much I loved her and how I’d do anything to keep her with me. My skin was tight, dried out from the salty agony still lingering on my face. And as I took in the appearance of Drea and her parents, I could see the same in their expressions.

Solemn. Gloomy. Weathered.

It was gut-wrenching to witness. However, there seemed to be an underlining relief in her father’s eyes. Almost as if he found peace knowing his daughter wouldn’t suffer any longer. And I fought hard to unearth the same emotion within myself. Push past the selfishness of wanting her here with me, and accept the peacefulness she will find on the other side.

I rose from my seat next to Layne’s bed and began moving around other chairs to offer places for everyone to sit. I knew we’d all want to be surrounding Layne, no one wanting to be on the outside of the circle.

“The nurses said her doctor will be in soon.” I wasn’t sure why I said that, other than not knowing what else to say. I’d told Drea everything I knew, and assumed she’d passed that information on to her parents. Rehashing it would be pointless, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get the words out again and remain intact.

Her dad stopped me before I took my seat again. He held onto my upper arm to keep me standing. We’d shared a few words here and there, mostly greetings of coming or going, nothing deep or planned out, so his action had caught me off guard.

“Son…” He cleared his throat, obviously having a hard time getting his thoughts out. “There are moments in life that help you gain perspective. It goes without saying this is one of those. You dropped everything to drive across the country. You wanted to fight for a future with my daughter, only to get here and see it may not be a possibility. You could have walked away, but you stayed. Respect is earned…and I respect you. I just want you to know how proud I am—
we
are—of you.” His eyes turned glassy, which added another knot to my stomach. “This past week, you’ve been here, and we’ve recognized the support you’ve offered our little girl.”

“I would’ve been here sooner…”

He shook his head, preventing me from saying more. “Creed, life is precious. Don’t waste it by letting the past imprison you with regret. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. What we do have is right now—this moment. Don’t lose hope, son.”

“But she’s—”

“I know,” he said, interrupting me again. “Accepting Layne’s fate does not mean you’re letting go of hope. It means you’re embracing a different kind. I know how much you love her.” He began to choke on his words, and he had to shake his head once more to clear away the anguish from his tone. “No one has ever loved her the way you do…and no one ever will again. We only wanted you to know how appreciative we are that you’ve been here this week. And that you’re here now.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder, and without hesitation, I pulled him in, enfolding him tightly as I allowed his words to sink in, consume me. Ever since showing up, things had been awkward to say the least. I only hoped this would be a clean slate for us all.

The quick rapping on the door called our attention away. Layne’s doctor came in, nodded to everyone standing, and then went to the computer screen on the stand next to Layne’s bed. He silently checked her charts on his tablet before performing a quick evaluation. We all stood completely still, waiting for him to conclude before we began with the barrage of questions.

He turned to face us, clipping his light pen back into the front pocket of his lab coat. “As you know,” he started, keeping his attention focused on Layne’s parents, “this has been coming. We’ve done everything we could to keep her stable as long as possible with the hopes of continuing treatment. Your daughter is quite the fighter, although I hate to say, it seems this has taken a toll on her body. Mentally, she was ready for battle…physically, her body simply couldn’t handle it. I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, but I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”

“When?” her mom cried out, covering her lips with her fingers as she sank into her husband’s side.

“There’s no way of telling.”

“But she could still make it to Monday…right?”

He slowly shook his head, never taking his eyes away from the broken woman in front of him. “She could, yes; however, if she’s still this weak, we won’t be able to start any treatment on her. Unless she wakes up with more strength than before, there’s nothing we can do but wait.”

We all nodded, our attentions pulled in different directions. Her mom stared at the floor, her dad’s eyes set on the ceiling tiles, and Drea turned her sights to her sister. I watched them all, and tried to drown out the doctor’s words. Ignoring the piercing agony they caused. They left me feeling as though the remnants of my heart had literally been splayed open, draining the life from me. Without Layne, I had nothing. I was losing the love of my life…how the fuck was I supposed to move on from this? But then I met each pair of eyes, all so similar to Layne’s. Each holding a piece of her in them, shining through, and it left me with hope. Comfort and the slightest hint of peace.

We can be told by professionals how someone we love won’t make it another day, and we go into survival mode. We build up a wall, throw on armor, and set out to prepare for the end of the day. Yet once the sun falls behind the horizon, the chill of night settles upon us, and suddenly, we become too weak to carry on. Realization is far different from information. And it seems I wasn’t the only one suffering from that sobering reality. However, the one thing to remember is, we aren’t out on the battlefield alone. We may be united in grief…but we’re united nonetheless.

The doctor left the room as we all settled into silence. Drea returned to her chair on the other side of the bed and began rifling through the tiny table, probably in search of tissues to dry her face. I hadn’t paid her much attention until she gasped right before releasing a deep, choking sob. We all glanced up at her, watching as she slowly pulled out folded pieces of white paper before meeting our gazes head on.

“What are those?” I asked, my words barely audible.

When she opened the first, her head fell to the side, her features scrunching in silent pain. She splayed her fingers over her mouth as she spoke. “It seems as though she’s written us goodbye letters.” She shuffled through the papers, bringing her attention back to us. “There’s one in here for each of us.”

My stomach sank, bottomed out. Air refused to enter my chest…not that I cared. I suddenly became incapable of even trying to breathe. My throat began to tighten as the familiar burn of agony pierced the backs of my eyes, filling my sight until I couldn’t see anything past the warbled images in front of me. I blinked, just in time to take the folded letter from Drea’s outstretched hand.

Time stood still. Not in reverse. Not in fast-forward.

Still.

The room shifted. Tilted. Spun.

I became dizzy.

And then I opened her letter.

We all read in silence, each gasping to ourselves as we fought to hold on to our composure. Once the last word was read, taken in, memorized, we turned to each other. Where there was silence between us moments ago, there was now encompassing love. Heavy and warm. Covering us and pulling us together without ever removing ourselves from where we sat. Where there was sadness, settling between us, strength took over.

This was it.

What we’d all prepared for.

What we’d all prayed wouldn’t happen.

But we all knew Layne was okay with it. She was finally finding the peace cancer had once threatened to strip her of.