Days of You and Me (10 page)

“As the patient continues his journey to the end, he begins to disengage with the world around him. It’s completely normal, but it can be upsetting for his family. Try to keep in mind that it’s not intentional. Be as tolerant as you can be. Pointing out the forgetfulness isn’t helpful, so just answer the questions, even if you already have.”

So now I repeated what we’d discussed the night before. “Lisa and Joe invited my mom and your parents to go over with them to see Leo play. They’re staying overnight at home, and then your mom’ll be back here tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” Nate’s eyes slid closed again, but he kept talking. “When’s the game? Are we going to watch?”

I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet on the end of the bed. “I was going to, but if you want, I can bring the television in here so we can see it together. How does that sound?”

“Good.” He yawned. “You didn’t go with them to see Leo, huh?”

My heart thumped against my chest wall. “Of course not. I wanted to be with you.” I nudged his foot with mine. “Besides, it’s too cold to sit outside. I’d rather be here, nice and cozy with you. I took out some ground beef, so maybe I’ll make us some chili and cornbread. How does that sound?”

One side of his mouth tipped up a little. “You know I’ll eat anything you make. But I’m not that hungry right now. Maybe later.”

“All right.” I opened my book again, thinking he was drifting back to sleep, as he did so often these days.

But apparently he wasn’t ready yet. “Quinn. I need to talk with you about something. I kept waiting for another time, when I felt better, could be more awake, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. So I need you to not let me fall asleep while we talk, okay?”

I frowned. “Nate, you can sleep if you want to. It’s all right. I’m not going anywhere. We can talk later.”

His head moved restlessly on the pillow. “No, gotta be now. I want to talk with you about Leo.”

This was the very last conversation I’d expected and coincidentally the one I least wanted to have. “Nate, come on. Let’s not do this.”

“Don’t make me waste my energy arguing. I just need you to listen.” He licked his lips as though it might help him speak.

“Do you need some water? Or something else to drink?” I shut my book again and let it slide to the floor as I stood up.

“No. Listen to me, Quinn. I know how you feel about Leo. I know you love him. I know that, for you, Leo’s always been the one.”

Tears were threatening, but I was not going to give in. Not now. “This is hardly the conversation I want to have with my husband. What’re you trying to say, Nate?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying, I know you’re in love with him. Maybe in the back of your mind, you’ve been thinking that once I’m gone, the two of you might have another chance.”

Now I couldn’t help crying. I wasn’t sure if it was at the idea of Nate’s death or the thought of Leo, but I wiped angrily at my wet cheeks. “That’s a horrible thing to say to me, Nate. Horrible and hurtful.”

“It’s not meant to be, Quinn. It’s supposed to be us being real, like we’ve always been. I tell you the truth. You tell me, too. This is not the time to change that.”

I drew in a ragged breath. “Are you going to tell me that I’m not meant to be with Leo? Is that what this is all about?”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly.” He slitted his eyes open. “Even if I believed that, what good would it do to tell you? No. I just want to tell you . . . it’s okay. It’s okay for you to love Leo, to make a life with him.” A smile ghosted across his pale face. “A life that I hope will last a hell of a lot longer than what we’ve had. But I couldn’t wish for you to be any happier than I’ve been these last six months, because it’s just not possible. No one will ever be happier than I’ve been.”

I sniffled, reaching for the box of tissues next to Nate’s bed. “You’ve made me happy, too, Nate. I love you, and I’ll never stop. No matter what, no matter how long I live, you’ll always be a part of me.”

“I hope so. I think . . . I don’t want to be forgotten, you know? I’m not leaving any legacy. No children, no great work of literature, no world-changing scientific discovery. All I’m leaving is the love I have for you. So I hope you’ll think of me sometimes.”

“More than just sometimes. I promise.”

He nodded, though it was barely perceptible. “I want you to promise something else. And it’s important, although you probably won’t think so right now.”

“Okay.” I sat down again, this time at the foot of the bed. Nate shifted his feet over to make more room for me, and I smiled. Even at this stage, he was aware of my comfort, trying to accommodate me.

“After I’m gone, things might be hard on you. You’re going to be upset. Sad. And you might think Leo is the answer, and you might be tempted to run to him.”

My shoulders stiffened. I hadn’t let myself think that far ahead, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d been clinging to the idea that Leo would be there to put me back together after Nate passed. It didn’t surprise me that Nate already knew that.

“And I get that, Quinn. But please . . . give yourself some time, okay? Don’t jump into anything. Stop and . . . maybe get to know Quinn a little better.” He wiggled his foot against my hip. “She’s pretty awesome, you know. But the last five years have been tough on her.”

I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Time, huh? Are you saying I need to find myself, Nate?”

He didn’t smile. “Maybe. And it might mean . . . going away. Not forever, but for long enough that you can figure out what it is you really want. And what you need. You haven’t always been fair to Leo, you know? So if you decide you want to be with him, you better be sure this time. You shouldn’t break his heart again. He really loves you, Quinn. He’d do anything for you. I don’t think you always understand that.”

Bringing up my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs. “I don’t think I understand what you’re saying. It’s Leo who’s broken my heart. He’s the one who . . . who chose football over me.”

Nate sighed, his chest rising and falling. “That’s not fair or accurate. Did you ever ask Leo to stop playing football?”

I fiddled with a thread on the blanket. “Not in so many words, no. But if he knows me so well and loves me like he says, I shouldn’t have to ask him. I shouldn’t have to put him in that position.”

“So you want Leo to give up something he loves, something that’s part of him, his way of living and his livelihood . . . but you want it to be his idea? Sounds to me like you don’t want to take responsibility for letting him know how you feel. That isn’t fair, Quinn, and you know it.”

“When I left him down in Carolina that summer—there wasn’t any better choice. I was in an impossible place. I could stay down there and hide, because Leo the Lion wasn’t supposed to have a girlfriend, or I could walk away with a little bit of dignity. I made the only logical decision.”

Nate coughed, turning his head toward the wall, and I jumped up to get him a glass of water. I held the straw to his lips as he sucked in the liquid and nodded his thanks, clearing his throat before he spoke again.

“And just how happy did that decision make you? Did that dignity keep you warm at night?”

I scowled, turning my back to Nate. “I didn’t know . . . it was only supposed to be a break. I just wanted some space, to let all the fuss over Leo die down. But it never did.”

“And Leo never came after you, did he? He took you at your word. He was devastated, Quinn. You think you were in an impossible place? Leo was in a no-win situation. You wanted him to do something that ultimately wouldn’t have made you happy.” He let his head loll to the side and fastened me with a tolerant if pointed gaze. “Remember the summer after freshman year? When you decided to work down here, and Leo was upset? You admitted back then that you’d put him in a position where he had to do things your way or end up pissing you off.”

“I remember.”

“So all I’m saying is that I hope you’ll think long and hard about what it is you want from life, from Leo and from yourself before you commit to trying again with him. Right now, you don’t want to think about that. But eventually you will. I hope you’ll think about what I’ve said when you do.”

I heaved out a long breath. “Okay.”

He smiled at me, this time both sides of his mouth curling up. “Is that a promise? You’re not just saying it to placate me?”

“No. I mean it.”

“Good.” He seemed to relax, to fade back against the pillow again, as though the effort of our conversation had worn him out, which it probably had. “Might doze a little before the game, ‘kay?”

“Sure.” I stood up, moving restlessly around the room, fixing Nate’s covers and adjusting the blinds until I was sure he was asleep again. When his breathing was even, I slipped out into the living room and clicked on the television, keeping the volume low.

The stadium in Philadelphia appeared on the screen, and as I’d guessed, snow flurries filled the air, frosting the players just coming out onto the field as well as everyone in the seats. I found my phone and texted my mom, asking her if they were keeping warm.

When the phone buzzed, I assumed she was answering me. Instead, though, I saw Zelda’s name on the screen.

Zelda
: Hey, doll. You watching the game?

I sighed, wondering if she was at the stadium, too. As glad as I was that Leo had so much support, I couldn’t help feeling a little like Cinderella, forced to stay at home while everyone else went to the ball.

Quinn:
Just turned it on.

I’d no sooner hit reply than another text from her flew across my display.

Zelda:
Want some company?

I frowned, but before I could wonder too long, there was a soft knock at the front door. Grinning, I jumped up from the sofa and sprinted to answer it.

“About time, woman! We’re freezing our very fine asses off out here.” Zelda pushed past me into the house, followed by Gia, who stopped long enough to give me a tight, if slightly damp, hug.

“What’re you guys doing here?” I stood back and gave them both room to take off their coats, hanging them on the hooks just inside the front door. Gia raked her fingers through her cap of black hair, sending droplets of water all over both Zelda and me.

“Hey, shaggy dog, watch it there.” Zelda frowned and stepped away, wrinkling her nose. “Not bad enough I have to run through the deluge, but then I have to get shaken on in here.”

Of course, Zelda herself looked impeccable. Her long white-blonde hair was twisted into a knot on the back of her head, and her makeup was not the least bit smeared. If anything, she looked dewy and perfect. If she hadn’t been one of my best friends, I might’ve hated her.

But instead, when she hugged me, I hugged her back, fiercely. I loved this quirky, stand-offish, hard-to-read woman who’d lived with me for four years. Zelda wasn’t easy—not at all—but once she’d decided someone was worth the risk, no one could be a more ardent supporter.

“We’re here for you,” she said, releasing me and shooting me a megawatt smile as she answered my earlier question. “We’re here because the Rebels are playing in Philadelphia tonight, and we knew your mom and Nate’s parents and everyone would be over at the game. So Gia and I decided to surprise you with a girls’ night.”

“That’s about the best thing I’ve heard in weeks.” I led them into the living room. “I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve seen you both.”

“Hey, I was here . . .” Zelda cast her eyes up, thinking. “God, it’s been almost three months, hasn’t it? Shit, I’m sorry, doll. I meant to be a better friend than that.”

“You still got me beat. I haven’t seen Quinn since she and Nate moved down here.” Gia reached over to squeeze my arm. “I kept thinking I would, but . . . it’s hard.” She lowered her voice, looking around before she spoke. “I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing Nate. Not after everything else that’s gone down in the last year. I’m a wimp and a lousy friend. I’m so sorry, Quinn.”

“Hey.” I covered her hand on my arm with my own. “No apologies necessary. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. God, I’ve missed you two.” I pointed to the sofa. “Sit down. I’ll grab us some beers. I was going to make chili for dinner. How does that sound?”

“Like heaven.” Zelda checked out the TV. “Still a little while before kickoff. How about we help you get the chili on, and then we can sit in front of the game while we eat?” Her gaze wandered to the hallway. “Is Nate . . . sleeping?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I think he might be down for the count tonight. I said something to him about making chili, but I’m pretty sure he only eats now to appease me and make his mom feel better. I don’t think he’ll be upset about missing the game.”
If he even remembered it at this point.
I sighed, and Zelda wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“I’m sorry, doll. It’s been tough, hasn’t it?”

I gave into the rare treat of leaning on someone else for a change, resting my head on Zelda. “Things have changed a lot since you were here in August. Then, he was up most of the day, talking to us, and nothing felt that much different. We could sit on the deck, and we watched movies . . . but now, he mostly sleeps. And when he wakes up, he’s sometimes disoriented. Almost like he’s been somewhere else, and he’s surprised to find out he’s back on planet Earth when he opens his eyes.”

Gia’s forehead crinkled. “Is that normal?”

I nodded. “The hospice people say it’s part of his process. He’s slowly . . . letting go.” I held up one hand in a fist and then raised my fingers, one at a time. “Like when you’re holding onto a bar on the jungle gym, and you release your grip.”

To my surprise, Gia’s eyes filled with tears. “How can you stand it?” she whispered. “Watching him . . . seeing him get ready to die?” Her small frame shook.

“Gia.” I slipped away from Zelda and wrapped my other friend in a hug. “Don’t cry, sweetie. Please don’t, because if you do, so will I, and then I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stop. And Zelda will ditch our sorry asses, because you know she doesn’t do tears.”

Gia gave a half-snort, half-sob as she buried her head in the crook of my neck. “It’s so hard. And I think about Matt all the time, you know? Like . . . was it like this with him? Was he getting ready to die the last time I saw him? Did I miss it? I gave up on him, Quinn. I broke his heart, and I walked away, because I couldn’t bear to watch him self-destruct anymore. So he did it anyway, but he did it alone. I wasn’t there. No one was. I’m not as strong as you are. I couldn’t sit here and watch him leave me, bit by bit. I couldn’t say good-bye. I couldn’t handle it.”