Days of You and Me (15 page)

Three guys were outside in the next house, setting up a speaker while two girls holding beers watched and shouted encouragement. I leaned over the railing, raising my voice until they heard me.

“Excuse me!”

One of the boys spotted me and turned down the music, smiling. “Hey. We didn’t know there was anyone over there. Sorry about the noise. You’re welcome to come over tonight for the party.” He looked over my shoulder. “Are you . . . by yourself?”

“No.” I struggled briefly with what to say. “I wanted to ask you . . . can you keep it down, please? I’m sorry to ask this, but, um . . .” I was too tired to think of how to word it better. “My husband is dying. Today. Inside. And . . . it’s not that I don’t like a party, or that I don’t think you should have a good time, but, well, he’s dying. And hearing music and shouting makes it even harder for us. So if you can just maybe . . . tone it down a little . . .”

“Shit.” The kid looked panicked, and I saw a similar expression on his friends’ faces. “Shit. I’m sorry. I just—wow. You don’t look old enough to be married, let alone have a husband who’s . . .”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” I shivered as the wind whipped across the beach. “I appreciate anything you can do to respect this situation.”
God, I sounded like a seventy-year-old nun.

“Of course. We’ll keep the music inside and tell everyone to be quiet. And hey.” His eyes tracked me. “I’m really sorry.”

I went inside, kicked off my shoes and made my way back to the bedroom. Sheri glanced at me.

“His eyes were fluttering just a minute ago. We thought maybe he might wake up a little.” There was such hope in her voice, even now.

“Really?” I sat down on the edge of the bed, and Nate turned his face toward me, his hand groping until I laced my fingers through his.

“Quinn.” His eyelids lifted just a little, but I could see his eyes watching me. “You’re here.”

I smiled even as tears filled my eyes. “Where else would I be, I’d like to know?” Squeezing his hand, I leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“You’re the best thing in my life.” The words were slurred, but I knew what he’d said. “Thank you, Quinn.”

I couldn’t speak for a moment. “You’re welcome, Nate. I love you.”

But his eyes were closed again, and his hand had gone slack in mine.

He woke slightly again twice more that day, and he mumbled a few words to his parents. Darkness seeped into the room as evening fell. Nate’s breathing slowed as the old year waned. His hand was cold now, even when I clung to it with both of mine.

Just before ten that night, his chest began to move almost convulsively. Sheri’s eyes met mine, and I knew we were both mentally checking another item off the list from the booklet. We were very near the end now.

In the doorway, where he’d been slouched for the last hour, watching in silence, Mark stood, a loud and awful sob ripping from his chest. His hand flew out and smacked the wall, making Sheri and me both jump.

“I can’t do it. I can’t watch him . . . I’m sorry.” Mark stumbled to the bed and pressed his cheek against his son’s. “I love you, bud. I always will. Love you.”

His face crumpling, Mark lurched from the bedroom. I listened to his steps across the great room and out onto the deck.

Sheri sighed and hitched her chair closer to the bed. “Something you’ll learn in life, Quinn. They say women are the weaker sex, but it isn’t true. Men . . . most of them can’t handle things like this. Watching life come into the world and watching it leave again . . . that’s up to the women.”

“Didn’t Sally Field say something like that in
Steel Magnolias
?” I moved closer, too.

“You know, she did. God, I cried every time I watched that movie. I’ll never be able to see it again, I don’t think.”

We sat in silence after that, the two of us forming a sort of chain, with Nate in the middle. By eleven-thirty, his breathing had calmed a little, but his inhales were slower. Each time he exhaled, I held my breath, too, waiting to see if another would come.

Just before midnight, the next breath did not come. Sheri and I sat frozen for several minutes, waiting, but we both knew. As we’d sat there, each of us holding one of Nate’s hands, his spirit had slipped away into the night. He wasn’t with us anymore. I couldn’t have explained how I knew that, but I did. There was a missing presence, an emptiness in the room. He had left us.

Sheri dropped her head onto the bed as the most horrible sounds came from deep within her. The bed shook along with her body.

I was too numb to move, but after a few seconds, I realized to my surprise that my hands were wet with the tears pouring down my face. Stupidly, I thought,
Nate won’t like to have a wet hand
, and I wiped at our joined fingers with the edge of the blanket.

Somewhere beyond this silent house, the sound of horns, bells, whistles and sirens exploded as the rest of the world marked the arrival of the new year. I looked down into Nate’s slack face and realized that he would never know even a moment in this year. He belonged to the one that had just ended.

His struggle was over.

He was at peace.

My best friend was gone.

Truce
by Twenty-One Pilots

T
here was silence, and there were muted voices. I was dimly aware that my parents and Quinn were near. I felt her fingers linked with mine, and I was glad.

Stay with me, Quinn. We can play trains.

I pried my eyes open to tell her how I felt, but words were slow and sluggish. And then there was silence once more.

Quinn, I saved you a swing. I know you like them best.

Somewhere just beyond my reach and sight, there was warmth and light and an appealing sense of belonging. I moved toward it, intrigued, but Quinn’s hand was still in mine.

I always want you, Quinn. Every day, I want you.

I didn’t want to leave her behind, but back there was cold and pain. Ahead was sunlight and . . . joy.

With an ease I’d never known in life, I sprinted forward. My feet didn’t stumble or trip, and my chest didn’t tighten as I tried to breathe.

I’ll always love you, Quinn.

I love you, Nate. Always.

With one last glance behind, I stepped into the sun.

All the missing crooked hearts

They may die, but in us they live on

I believe,

And I believe ‘cause I can see,

Our future days,

Days of you and me

Pearl Jam

Hard Love
by NEEDTOBREATHE

N
ate had planned his own funeral. Quinn told me that he’d actually had parts of it figured out since high school. That didn’t surprise me. Nate had said once that he’d always known his life expectancy wasn’t very long, and death had hovered near him time and again as we all grew up.

We gathered in the church his family had attended for years on a cold afternoon in mid-January. I sat in a pew with my parents, my brothers Simon and Danny, and Simon’s girlfriend Justine, two rows behind the front pew where Quinn and Carrie had joined Mark and Sheri. The church wasn’t even near full, and I couldn’t help comparing the turnout here with that at Matt’s service last year. That day, the church had been so full, they’d had to stream the service outside to the people who couldn’t get in, and his grandparents’ house had been crowded afterward for the repast. It made me unreasonably angry; Nate had fought with everything he had to hold onto life, and Matt had thrown his away with both hands. There should have been more people in the church.

Sheri and Mark each had a couple of siblings who were present, along with their kids. Sheri’s mother and Mark’s father were both still alive, and they were there, too. One row was filled with people I didn’t recognize; my mother murmured to me that they were all people who worked with Mark.

About ten minutes before the service began, Eli Tucker wheeled himself down the center aisle. When he caught sight of me, he nodded slightly and steered around to draw up alongside me.

“Taylor.” He extended his hand, his face drawn and sober. “Hell of a thing. I’m not supposed to be going to my college roommate’s funeral for at least fifty years.”

“Yeah.” I shook his hand and then slid over as Tuck deftly transferred himself to the wooden pew. My mother leaned forward a little and gave him a small sad smile.

“It’s cool if I sit here? I don’t know anyone else but Quinn, and I don’t want to intrude.”

I nodded. “Of course, it’s fine.” I glanced to the back of the church. “Where’s Zelda?”

Tuck’s face tightened. “I don’t know. I came with my parents.” A few rows behind us, Mr. and Mrs. Tucker were settling into their seats. Tucker’s words were curt, and his face shuttered. I didn’t ask any more questions.

I’d known of Tucker because he was a year ahead of me at a school in a neighboring town, one of our district rivals. Tuck had played quarterback, and he’d been a legend until his senior year, when a freak accident on the field had paralyzed his legs, costing him both his career and year of recovery and rehab. He’d started at Birch the same year Quinn, Nate and Gia had, and he and Nate had struck up a friendship when they’d been matched together as roommates.