Our Last Time: A Novel (13 page)

Instead, I held Kennedy’s hand, ate lunch with him at our table, and I
waited
.

August 30
th
, 2006, 6:38a.m.

Willow

I was hungover.
I dreaded facing the sunlight. Caitlyn never got up, and she was still facedown asleep in my lap. I wanted to push her off, because I believed my legs were
so asleep
they could possibly fall off.

I slapped her face lightly, once. “Wake up, woman,” I mumbled.

She groaned. She hadn’t gotten off of me.

I grabbed her chopsticks from the side table, and then started lightly beating her head with them. I was getting rhythmic with it.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” I chanted.

I hadn’t paid attention to the time, though I had work to attend. I was sluggish, and hadn’t cared at all.

I stopped with the chopsticks, and held them in one hand when I sensed she was awake. Caitlyn groaned again, but
this
time, she turned her head, and looked at me. Her eyes were squinted, because she hadn’t wanted to open them all the way.

“I’m awake,” she said, her voice hoarse. Slowly, she sat up.

“Did we drink all of that wine?” she asked, as I got up from the couch to stretch. I had given her the chopsticks I had in my hand.

“We drank both bottles of wine,” I responded. I regretted drinking so much. Caitlyn regretted drinking so much, too.

“I have to go get Annette from my mom’s house, and take her to school,” Caitlyn grumbled. “I really don’t want to go outside.”

“Sunshades are on the desk,” I pointed out. “I appreciate you,” I offered.

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes, yawning. She wrapped a blanket around her, then stomped her feet as she walked towards her bedroom. “I hope you have a good day at work,” she said in a nonchalant tone, before she had shut her door behind her.

I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a croissant sandwich from the fridge, and shoved it in my mouth. I hadn’t heated it up. The sausage and the egg and the croissant were cold, and I hadn’t particularly liked
cold
breakfast sandwiches.

Chewing - I was
chewing
at a fairly fast pace.

I changed my clothes, deciding against showering, though I probably smelt a few shades under fresh.

I stood there alone, lost in thought - I sighed.

I needed to talk to the head nurse about vacation leave. I just started working at Chicago’s smallest hospital, and I hadn’t known who the head nurse
was
, exactly. I’d find out today. Wyatt would be okay without me. He needed a reason to leave the hospital. I wasn’t going to be his reason to stay anymore.

8:58a.m.

Once the same-old
drive to work was over, I was now standing in the elevator. I pressed the buttons that led me to the second floor, and I stood there clutching the strap of my workbag, and I waited.

Saying goodbye to Wyatt would be difficult, but it needed to be done. I also needed a break. I hadn’t remembered the last time I had one.

The doors opened, and I caught Denise’s face; she was sitting behind the desk where she always was. Her smile was bright.

I was not smiling at all.

“Morning, Willow,” she greeted. She scrunched her eyebrows together as I neared, her smile slowly falling. “Are you okay, Hun?”

I paused, but only briefly. “I have to say goodbye to Wyatt today,” I said in a low tone. I cleared my throat. “Also, who’s the head nurse?” I questioned.

I wanted to go ahead and get it over with.

She shook her head, studying me. “You’re looking at her,” she replied.

My eyes widened. “
Oh
, really?” I whispered in disbelief.

Denise shook her head, simply. I was stalling, though I was the one that initiated this conversation in the first place. I wasn’t good at this. “So…” I trailed off.

“So?” she pushed.

I was confusing Denise. She thought there was something wrong with me.

I sighed. “Is it possible for me to go on vacation leave?” I asked slowly. I remained where I stood, though her stare was very parental and intimidating.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” she pursed her lips, and then she exhaled. “Are you okay, Willow?” she asked me a second time.

“Yeah, fine,” I answered abruptly. I cursed, silently.

I was really bad at this.

“You sure?” she asked, the question lingering. “You’re very fidgety this morning. It’s a little worrisome for me. Did you get any rest last night?”

I stayed up late with Caitlyn, and had drunk a lot of wine. Maybe that was what she was referring to. I looked like shit, and Denise was pointing it out in a nice way.

“I’m just hungover,” I told her. My voice was small, and hushed.

She raised her eyebrows at that. “And you’re saying goodbye to Blanquette today, you said?”

I nodded. “Today’s the day,” I sighed. I slouched a little. I really hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to him.

“Ah,” she tipped her chin, knowingly. “When do you want to start vacation leave? You get two weeks per year if no one has told you. People don’t communicate around here unless they have to,” she said, shaking her head.

“As soon as possible,” I answered immediately. As a reflex, I stood up straighter. “I didn’t think you’d let me off that easy,” I smiled weakly.

Denise smiled half-heartedly, per usual. “Consider the first of September the first day of your vacation.”

“Thank you so much,” I gushed.

She paused, but she hadn’t said anything. She studied me as I stood there in front of her. “I like you, Willow, I really do. But are you sure you want to say goodbye to that guy?” she asked, pointing towards room
209
.

I gulped, and she sighed before continuing. “You seem to like him a lot. He can’t be too far from where you’re staying. You should exchange information with him. I’d like to see that.”

I stayed silent for a moment, processing what Denise had said. It sounded like she was giving me an order, which was odd. “Do I
have to
exchange information with him?” I asked carefully.

She was scrunching her eyebrows again, now. “I support the idea, but no, I’m not giving you an ultimatum, dear.”

She was sassy. I was annoying her. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“Scared,” she interrupted me. “You’re scared if you get too close to Blanquette, he’ll die when you develop something strong and real for him. Am I right?”

I held my mouth open for a second, a bit shocked to hear Denise’s assumptions.  But it also made me wonder…
was
she right? Caitlyn had said the same thing, really. I hadn’t had to question myself to know they were right. They were spot on, actually.

“Death is
ugly
, Denise. I live around it. He believes he could die soon, and I recently decided that I don’t need any more death in my life,” I announced, and Denise had shaken her head at me. She was disappointed.

I sighed before continuing. “Maybe that makes me a bad person. I have my daughter to think about, and… I’d rather say goodbye to Wyatt now,” I had told her.

“Do you want him to be alone?” Denise challenged.

“No, I don’t,” I replied. “But I also can’t rely on myself to keep him company. I can’t make it my obligation. I care about him, but I’m not going to pity him. Wyatt doesn’t want pity.”

Denise sighed, obviously frustrated with me. “You’re a stubborn one, Willow. I’m only going to express this to you once, so pay attention,” she said, and then she got out of her chair, and started walking out from behind the desk.

I hadn’t had a clue to what Denise was going to say to me, or show me. The moment of truth couldn’t have knocked more wind out of me.

Denise stood there and I turned to face her. She had her pant leg rolled up on one side; I stared with wide eyes. I noticed that Denise walked a little differently. I never figured it could have been something like
this
.

“I lived in Asia for the first few years of my childhood. My family was poor, and we traveled through the nearby forest often to find salvation. One day, we had spotted a lion. My family had fled before I could catch up with them, and I had lost track of the trail we had been following,” Denise let out a deep sigh, then she placed a hand on the prosthesis that took the place of her right leg. “I was only six years old when I lost my leg. My biological parents had left me to die. A young tourist couple had found me almost dead, and now
they’re
my parents. They’re who accepted me, and who wanted me. I’m alive because of them. They had been trying to have a child for two years. My mother always tells me we
saved
each other,” she said, breaking each word slowly from her lips.

“Denise…” I whispered. My hand I had over my mouth. I couldn’t believe Denise had lived this. A six-year-old Denise was
attacked
by a lion - I couldn’t see it as anything real.

“Willow, I guess what I’m trying to tell you is, well…
pity
is a part of it, but it’s what could lead to something better. It leads to survival, and possibly a greater life. You care for Blanquette, and he cares for you.  Maybe he’s not the only one that needs saving. Maybe you do, too,” she finished. She raised her eyebrows at me before pushing her pant leg down, and returning to her spot behind the desk.

Maybe I needed saving, too?
I hadn’t known how to process all of that, but I wasn’t going to ignore what Denise had said to me today. I was going to try and take it into perspective.

“Thank you for telling me this,” I whispered, and she nodded. “I’ll reconsider seeing Wyatt again. It’s all up to him, now, really.”

“He’s not going to want to say goodbye to you, Willow. That should be pretty obvious,” Denise said to me, as she got comfortable in her seat.

“He keeps saying he doesn’t want me to miss him when he’s gone. He puts this face on, like he doesn’t want me to develop feelings for him,” I told her. “He confuses me sometimes.”

Denise waved her hand in the air. “He’s a human with a heart, Willow. He doesn’t want you to be hurt, but he’s being a little dramatic. You should go and tell him who's boss,” she winked.

I paused. “You think I should tell Wyatt who's boss?” I questioned. I tapped my knee with my index finger, once. “Are you sure it’d be a good thing to tell
Wyatt
who's boss?”

“It’d throw him off guard, but I think it’s about time for him to be thrown off guard,” she paused, studying me for a few seconds through the silence. “Just don’t be scared, okay? You’d regret it if you chose to not spend more time with him. Don’t let the coward within you form your mistakes. Take it all in with open eyes. Believe in chances, Ms. Monroe.”

I closed my eyes, nodding. “Thank you, Denise.”

“Anytime, Willow. Anytime.”

I put my workbag and my coat in the closet, and then I walked towards room
209
. I wanted to believe in chances. I hadn’t wanted to be scared. I wanted Wyatt to believe in chances, too. But more than anything, I hadn’t wanted Wyatt to be scared - but
he was
. He was so obviously afraid of life. He hadn’t wanted me to care about him. He hadn’t wanted me to miss him whenever he’d be gone.

It was too late, though.

I knocked once, and he said the words, “Come in,”
so fast
, I had to take a step back due to surprise. He was ready to see me. He was expectant.

I actually smiled before opening the door. “Wyatt,” I said his name before coming in view of him, where he laid on the bed.

“Willow,” he grinned.

He was grinning. This was a good thing.

“Are you feeling better?” I asked.

He licked his lips before speaking. “Yes, actually,” he blinked three times, kind of quickly. “I’m feeling a lot better, but you probably could have guessed that,” he said.

I stood there, silent. My mouth opened a little as I stared at his happy-looking face. “Are you
sure
you’re okay, Wyatt?” I asked slowly.

I sounded like Denise, but I had a reason to. This was a strange activity happening in front of me. A happy-looking Wyatt was not common.

“I know it’s time for me to go,” he said quietly. “I have enjoyed your company immensely. You have no idea how fond I am of you. You’re good at your job, and you’re a good friend to me. But now, it’s time for us to say goodbye,” he finished. He was pressing his lips together, now.

“Wyatt…” I trailed off. My shoulders sagged. “We don’t have to say goodbye. You’re my daughter’s teacher, and you’re my… well, uh… you’re
more
than just a friend to me, okay? I can’t say goodbye to you. I don’t want to.”

I stood my ground like Denise had suggested, though it was hard as hell for me to do so. I hadn’t known if I’d be able to handle it if he rejected me with a smile on his face.