One Summer with the Sinner (Monteverde Series 5)

45

Chapter Forty-Five

Finale

SURPRISE POV

I'm clenching my chest so hard that it's starting to physically hurt. I keep crying as I blankly stare at the white walls I've grown to despise. But no matter how many tears I produce, aside from the tremors rocking my back, no sound comes out.

Aside from the white walls, I've also developed some type of hate for the beeping sounds the machines make, the smell of the flowers I, myself, bring every week, and the tug of familiarity this scene brings. A couple of years ago, I have been in the exact same position, only then I was less prepared for it, only then I still stupidly held on to some hope, some type of miracle I knew I wouldn't be getting.

Have I exhausted all my miracles?

Is there a certain limit as to how much people can wish for the impossible?

The hospital is a place of life and loss, of hope and devastation.

And I hate myself for my resignation. No, it wasn't that exactly. Maybe I hate myself because of the guilt I feel for my resignation. I want to hope, to keep praying, to keep telling the doctors to do everything they can, to trust medicines and science. But I know, we're bey0nd all of that. He is beyond all of that. I want to tell him to keep fighting, but he always tells me there's only one way now for him to win. If there's something he wants to do now, it's to rest.

I don't want to let him go. That's the truth.

"Ma..." My thoughts were broken by the sound of his frail voice.

"I'm here," I replied. I inched closer to the bed he's been confined to for days. He brings his hand up, motioning for me to hold it. I did. His bruised hand was pale and cold. I bring myself to look at his face, into those tired sunken eyes. As I pressed my lips tighter, I felt him give my hand a gentle squeeze.

"Please don't tell me you're crying again."

I gave him a sad smile. "I'm not. My eyes are."

He managed a strained laugh. "Tell your eyes I said they shouldn't."

"How could they? They're going to miss seeing you."

His smile faded a little, making him look serious, weary, and worried. He took a deep breath as he averted his gaze, focusing them on the clock hanging on the wall, as if he was calculating how much time he has left. "I'm worried about my son," he stated. "No child would ever be prepared to lose a parent this young, Ma. He hasn't even graduated high school. I... I don't even get to see just that."

I only listen. Because what do I tell him? Had the situation been reversed, I'm sure I would have the same sentiments, the same worries, the same heartbreak, and pain.

"But there's some comfort in knowing..." His voice breaks.

"Javier –" I cut him off. "It's okay, just sleep. We'll have this talk tomorrow."

"My tomorrow isn't promised." He shifted uncomfortably. "There's some comfort in knowing that you'll be there to see him grow, to nurture him, to teach him how beautiful life can still be beyond loss. There's some hope in me knowing Elizabeth will never let him go astray, that she'll be there to witness all the firsts I would no longer be able to celebrate and congratulate Vane on. I... I trust that my son is in good hands with the two of you, Ma."

My chest starts to hurt again. "Vane will never forget you; you know?"

"I hope I've given him enough good memories to remember me by."