Thoughts Are Fickle Things ~ A Drabble Book

Goodbye

“It’s osteosarcoma,” the doctor had said. “I’m afraid to say that he’s terminal. I’m sorry.” The look of pity on his face felt condescending, so I nodded so he’d leave me in peace. A kind looking nurse said I could enter. When I walked in, he didn’t look terminal. He looked like he always did. Brown hair slightly ruffled, good-natured grin showing his endearingly slightly crooked teeth. He looked like my beloved. I smiled back as the door closed behind me, but there was a pain in my chest that stopped a real, genuine smile from appearing. He beckoned to me, and I walked to sit at the edge of his, frankly ugly, hospital bed. He took my hand tenderly, and I sighed.

“The doctor said its osteosarcoma.” I didn’t want to meet his eyes, leaving out the part of him being terminal. Not yet. Not right now.

He scrunched his nose distastefully, and it made me want to lean forward to kiss it. “I don’t like him. He looks funny.”

I smiled at him, a certain lightness starting as he started to joke around. “Like a giraffe.”

He laughed, and for a moment, it felt like old times when everything was perfect. But the beep of the hospital equipment shattered it all. Once it had been broken to pieces, my smile fell, and I lowered my eyes. He sighed, squeezing my hand.

“Ellie, don’t be like this.” He always knew. I don’t even know why I bothered trying to hide it from him; he can read me like a book. I shrugged helplessly, eyes still locked on our clutched hands.

“Is there any other way to be?” I asked, feeling small and pathetic. “You’ve got cancer for God’s sake.” I shook my head. When he spoke, his voice had turned firm.

“Ellie. He told me. The doctor, he told me that I’m…terminal.” I winced at his words, squeezing my eyes shut against it all, against everything bad that was happening.

“Don’t say it.” I was pathetic. Pleading not to hear it. Completely pathetic.

He squeezes my hand again, and I finally look up to meet his gaze. His eyes had hardened, a bit of a harsher blue now. “Why? Why not? You’re going to have to get used to it, Ellie. When I’m gone-“

I shook my head again, as I spoke to interrupt him. “Don’t say that either. Why? Because the more that I think of losing you, the more real it gets and I don’t want that to happen.” My voice has started out hard and argumentative, but had now waned to a wounded whisper. On the last word, my voice broke, and so did something inside me. I had promised not to cry, but that didn’t help as the tears fell freely down my face. “Damn it.” I muttered raising a hand to angrily wipe at the beads of wet on my cheeks.

“Hey.” His soft voice came, along with his comforting arms as he pulled me into his warm chest. I heard the beating of his heart, and it had comforted and calmed me. “It’s going to be okay.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I prayed he was right.

The rest of the time passed by quickly, as each week I visited him three times. Sometimes every day. At first, I didn’t see a change, and I really believe that everything was going to be okay. But cancer isn’t like that. It’s silent, and it creeps up like a fog on the most unwitting of victims. And like a sweet and deadly poison, it strikes you hard. And that’s exactly what happened to him. In a matter of days, his complexion waned, his cheeks lost their colour, and he thinned out, no longer the strong, steady man that I used to know. I pretended not to see it. I pretended not to see the only person I had ever loved slowly deteriorate. But like I said, he could read me like a book. He knew exactly what was happening. The worst thing about it is how I couldn’t do anything. Nothing at all. I felt helpless, useless and unworthy. It’s the worst thing, watching your soulmate fall apart slowly in front of your eyes. With no hope of changing anything. It’s the worst feeling in the world.

I think it was a Tuesday when I had gone in to see him. His favorite day. When I had asked him why, he would say, “The second day of the week is always the best. It reminds you that you’re at the start, but it’s not so bad.” He was always so optimistic. It was one of the things I loved about him.

I had just pushed open the door to see him. He smiled feebly, and it made my heart wrench. He looked so much worse. His skin had paled even more; his eyes had died down, the warmth of their blue colour slowly fading.

“Hey.” He croaked, voice rough and unused. I flashed a half-hearted smile, sitting in my usual place on his bed.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, taking his hand just like usual. It felt fragile, like some sort of artifact that would break if I held it too tightly.

“I’m doing okay.” He replied just like always, and when he smiled it still looked like his old smile. Just misplaced on his pale face. “How are you holding up?”

 I shrugged, answering honesty with a, “I don’t know.” I smiled sheepishly at him, casting my eyes over his body draped in a blanket. “I just don’t know. Kelly at the office has been on my back for that report, and it’s starting to piss me off.” I shook my head, thinking back to my boss.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Screw her. I know you’ve been working extra hard to finish up.”

I laughed, and it felt good. These past few days had been way to hard. Thick with sadness, and heavy with a withheld pain. He always knew how to make me laugh. No matter what.

I smiled, looking down at my lap. “I’m so glad I have you. You have no idea. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I brought his hand to my lips to delicately kiss his knuckles. “I love you.”

He always said it back. No matter the situation, no matter where we were. I sat there for a moment, waiting and listening but it never came. I thought he was playing a game, waiting for me to look at him before he finally said it back. And it was only then that I noticed that the only sound I was accompanied by, was the steady drone of the heart monitor. The sound that goes when someone’s heart stops working. When they’re gone. I didn’t register that, until I finally looked at his face. He looked peaceful, happy and simply sleeping. I never thought this would be so sudden. But then again, that’s how death is. You die right in the moment, regardless of the situation.

I must have sat there, more than disoriented until a nurse burst in, along with a doctor. When I saw the doctor, it reminded me of our ‘giraffe’ joke about him. I turned to tell him that, but then realized that I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him. I was numb; I didn’t even hear the doctor apologizing as he led me out of the room. I don’t remember anything that he said. All I remember is thinking, I never got to say goodbye.