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“The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”
--William Shakespeare
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God brings. God takes. God deceives. God forgives. God forgets.
Who is God?
That's all I've ever wondered my entire life. Who is this man that we believe is our creator? Our one link to humanity?
They say God is divine.
What does he do that makes him so divine? He does nothing but take people, make them suffer, then throw them into the darkest parts of hell to die in vain.
Then again, that's only what I believe. Even as I drive to the hospital, I think about how every two seconds someone is taken by God. How they are lying in a bed, surrounded by pale white walls and sad faces, when in those next two seconds they are gone.
Forever.
They don't say goodbye. They don't cry. They just leave you behind to suffer the pain. The pain God decided to wrought on you. I drive by the churches, marveling at them silently as the night sky blanketed the city of Los Angeles.
The lights flood the streets and the signs. The churches were lit, with their signs displaying all of their religious events. I stopped as the light at the intersection turned red. The rain continued to pour down on my car, harshly hitting the windscreen. I watched carefully as the wipers wiped the fluid away, like it was nothing.
Just the way God wipes you away after you're done.
Maybe God is a good man. Maybe he eliminates you of your suffering once you leave his world that he created for us. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe you fall asleep, but never dream.
But never wake up either.
I gently tapped the pedal and the car wheeled forward into the parking lot of the hospital. I parked silently into an empty space and stepped outside.
The wind tried to push me over, and the rain spat down on my face like grit. I fought against the wind and tumbled inside the hallway of the hospital.
Today for once it was quieter. There was no shouting, no screaming.
No dying, yet.
I walked over to the radiation corridor where my wife, Sam, was receiving her treatment for terminal cancer. I saw her doctor and rushed over immediately.
“Dr. Rogers!” I shouted. He turned around and frowned, narrowing his eyes a bit. I've known him for nine years now. When he frowns, it's never a good thing. I stood beside him as he put a hand on my shoulder. I could feel the tears scratching the back of my eyes.
“Jen…” He sighed. I looked up at him, reading his face.
“How bad is it?” I croaked. Dr. Rogers lowered his head, sniffling. I felt tears welling up in my eyes as he looked up at me once again.
“Come with me.” He said. I followed him down a corridor and into a room.
It was dark, and solemn. I could hear soft, hushed voices coming from up further ahead. I could barely make out Dr. Rogers' face in the dim light.
Finally there was light, though it wasn't that bright. There was a blue glow on the ceiling and there was a humming sound coming from a tiny corner in the room. Dr. Rogers lead me to a balcony, in which then I saw what he wanted me to see.
My wife was lying on a bed, with a machine spinning slowly around her head. She was pale and her skin was scarred. Her hair was gone, that lovely brown shade that she had once had now fallen off. Her arms were bruised and face was flushed. She had tubes coming out from her chest and her arms.
This was her final stage of treatment.
Though it all may seem too much to bear to watch, it was nice to see her manage to sleep soundly. Her face was not contorted with pain, her chest was falling and rising in an even motion, and she wasn't even flinching.
She looked fine. But, sometimes fine isn't enough. Dr. Rogers and I both knew that she was far from fine. She wasn't healthy.
She was a dead soul in a barely living body.
“Sam…” I breathed, grasping on to a banister firmly, watching the machine calculate all the problems in her body. Dr. Rogers stood beside me, holding my hand.
“She… Her body… It can't go through all this treatment. It's not helping her anymore. Her white blood cells are dying off, and we can't keep on giving her transfusions every time her blood count drops. It's only making her life worse. This type of cancer, it just simply cannot be cured. I'm sorry to say, but Sam's body is beginning its first stages of shutdown. She will be dead in three to four months at the most. Two at the least.”
I wasn't shocked. I mean, who would be? Sam suffered through terminal cancer for nine years. She's fought through so many things in her life that it would really makes you wonder sometimes.
Was she even human?
I admired Sam. I'm not even half the women that Sam is. She is so strong for others, even if she's the one who takes the blow in the end.
“Jen?”
Dr. Rogers snapped me from my thoughts. I turned back to Sam, who by now had woken up and begun to step out of the HDR. She wobbled a bit, but with a little assistance from the nurse. After steadying herself, Sam unraveled the sheet around her chest and took her clothes from the nurses.
Dr. Rogers turned to me, his eyes distant. It was as though he, too, had given up. I looked back at my wife and sighed.
“I'll tell her in the car.”
Sam stared outside the window as we drove back home. I could hear her crying and I cleared my throat.
“How was the urm… you know?” I asked her awkwardly. Sam sat up straight and looked over at me, giving me the best damn fake smile she could give.
“It was okay… The same I guess.” I heard her voice crack. I took a deep breath and smiled.
“What do you want for dinner?”
“I dunno…”
“Well, what do you want?”
Sam stared out her window again. I could hear her under her breath as she spoke.
“Life.”
We arrived back home at around 6:00pm. Sam hadn't said anything else in the car and I kind of cut around telling her that she was dying.
I mean how do you tell someone that they're dying?
I watched her walk inside and directly up to her room, without a word.
I had always wondered what it would be like to be Sam for a day. I want to see what kind of pain she endures. I see it, but I want to feel it.
I want to feel it for myself. Just for a day.
I prepared macaroni and cheese with salad and called Sam down. I filled two glasses with water and set them down on the table as Sam came in and sat down.
It was in the middle of dinner when Sam got up.
“Excuse me.” She said softly. She got up and marched up to the bathroom. I heard her close the door and I stared down at my half empty plate. I began to think on how I would break it to her. How I would tell her that she wasn't getting better?
How was I going to start?
It had been awhile now, and Sam was still in the bathroom. I got up from the table and ran up the stairs two at a time, worry clouding my mind. I felt the floor creak as I finally made it up the to second floor.
I knocked on the door of the bathroom violently.
“Sam?! Sam, are you okay?!”
I could hear her crying, I could feel that whatever happening in there was not good. I jimmied the lock and burst inside.
Sam turned her head quickly, her face a wet bloody mess. She had blood pouring from her nose and dripping out of her mouth slowly. I grabbed her and held her in my arms. She cried in my arms, pushing her head deep into my chest. I planted a kiss on her bald head and closed my eyes as she spoke.
“It's true… Isn't it?” She asked, her voice muffled by my shirt. I opened my eyes and looked at her in the eyes as she peeled herself away from me.
“What's true?”
“Me. I'm… I'm dying. Not dying like cancer, but dying like seriously. A couple of months dying.” She cried, her face in her hands. I hugged her again, and cried with her. I wanted this to go away for her. I wanted her to just be safe.
Safe in my arms. The way it was meant to be.
I cleaned Sam up and then I gave her the meds she takes. I watched as she bravely swallowed a pill the size of an eraser, spluttering when it got stuck. I jolted forward, but luckily she managed to swallow it. She hugged me again, and I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her body heat fill my palms, working its way up into my body. I pressed her close to me and rubbed her back.
“You are so strong. Stronger than anyone I've ever known. Stronger than anyone I will ever know.” I whispered, kissing her ear smoothly. She rubbed her neck against mine, her eyes closed.
“You helped me more than anyone that I've ever known. Jen, I… You…-” I put a finger to her lips and began prodding her towards the bedroom.
“Hush. You need to rest. I'll be up in a minute. I'll clean up then we'll talk. Okay?” I said compassionately. Sam let go of me and smiled, mouthing the words 'thank you.'
I watched as she walked into her room, carefully shutting the door behind her. I felt tears stream down my cheeks as I stood in the hallway.
What will I do without her?
I knocked on Sam's door and she said 'come in'. I walked inside to find her sitting on the bed in, still in her jeans and bloody t-shirt. In front of her, laid out in a messy streak, were old photos of us. I padded over the bed and sat down beside her. She sat, sadly picking one up of me and her before her treatment started. I tenderly took the picture from her and looked at it. I saw her eyes bright and enthusiastic, her hair long and flowing in the wind behind us. I saw my wife. I saw her.
My real wife. The one that was actually alive in her body.
We were only dating back then. We were in our first year college. We both had goofy hair and funny clothes. Though she changed physically, Sam still is the same emotionally. I always loved her for that. I mean, she's my girl. No one, or nothing, could ever make me love her less. I loved everything about her.
Her spirit. Her pride. Her determination. Her will. Her power.
Heck, I just loved her.
I don't want to lose all that. All that I love.
I don't want to lose Sam.
I watched as she sorted through the photos, pulling one out from beneath her. She smiled before handing it to me. I took the photo and looked at it.
It was me and Sam on our wedding day. She and I were dressed in beautiful white gowns. We were standing on the balcony of our summer house with our backs to the camera. It was one of those kodak moments, the ones you don't usually get to have. Our heads were leaned against each other, and our hands were grasped tightly on the railing. The sun was setting and you could see the ocean rippling towards us. The way the sun kissed her skin, it was like as if God himself was coming down to touch her.
Maybe now he would be.
She passed me another picture. This one was when I proposed to her. It was on the day of our anniversary. I had told her that I wanted that day to mean something different. To mean something more than just what our relationship was at that moment. She had been confused, so I asked her if she wanted to be with me, and to which she replied yes. So I did what I had practiced for weeks. I got down on one knee and asked her the one question. Her face was priceless, as she took my face in her hands and kissed me.
I will always consider that the second best day of my life.
The first of course was the day of our marriage.
“How…” I trailed off, my eyes falling down back to the picture. Sam held a couple of other pictures in her hands, tears dripping slowly down her face.
“Don't you ever wish that life could stay a picture?” She asked me. I flinched as she put the pictures down.
“Don't you ever wish that you could stay in one place, forever?” I looked back down at the pictures. Sam sighed and shook her head.
“You know, ever since my dad died, I was always scared that the same thing would happen to me. That I would end up like him.” She whispered, her hands placed around mine softly. Sam's dad had cancer and passed away when she was fourteen. He was just as strong and passionate as Sam was, yet God decided to take his life. I leaned my head against hers and felt the tears coming gushing out. She also started crying as we sat there in silence.
I broke down as she put the photo back into its album, along with all the others. I put the one she gave me to the side. I watched her inch herself towards me. I sat up against the backboard of our bed as she laid her head on my thighs. I put one hand behind her head and stroked her bald scalp soothingly. Sam stared up into my eyes tearfully. I slid down so that we were lying next to each other, side by side. She curled up in my arms. I looked at her, resting her head on my shoulder.
“It'll go away, Sam. There's still-”
“There is no time, Jen. Don't try to hide me from the truth. I know I'm dying. Hell, I've in pain for nine years. You think I don't know?” She interrupted, sitting up slowly, her hand over her ribs. I sat up beside her, kissing her lightly. Sam took a deep breath, breaking away.
“Listen, I needed to ask you something. A favor.”
“Yeah, sure, anything.”
“You can't say no to what I ask of you.”
I looked at Sam's deep, serious face as she stared at me. I reached for her hand and held it tight in my palm.
“I love you a lot, Jenny, but I can't do this anymore. I've been facing through the last nine years of my life with the bravest face I could possibly put on. I've gone through all the excruciating treatment and the countless operations. I mean, I just can't do it anymore. I can't live like this, Jen, I can't. Not anymore.” Sam paused, taking a breath. I looked away as my stomach started to spin.
“Jen, I need you to let me go.” She whimpered, pulling out a gun from behind her. I gasped and stared at the revolver. She opened up my hand and placed it inside, her eyes red.
“I need you to kill me.” She cried. I shook my head, refusing, yet the gun sat still in my hand.
“No… no… Sam…” I stuttered, not knowing what to say. Sam hugged me, kissing my neck.
“It's what I want. I don't want to suffer anymore. I can't bear it. Please, do it for me. I just want to be relieved of all this. I want to die.” She whispered into my ear. I could feel her breathing on me. Long, deep breaths, flowing from her mouth to my sensitive skin.
“If you really cared, and I'm not saying you don't, then you'd put me out of my misery.” Sam said, her fingers stroking my hair in a calming motion. I felt the gun in my hands and I closed my eyes. I flashed back to our childhood, to everything that went through, together or apart. To all our fights and all our happiest moments. I remembered about how happy Sam used to be. I could hear our giggling, our cries, and our laughter. I remembered it as though it was yesterday.
As if this never happened.
I shook my head and cried. Sam held me tighter to her and nuzzled her head under my chin affectionately.
“Please.” She plead, then louder she repeated it. “Please… do it. For me, Jen.” I sniffed. Before I could say or do anything else, she grabbed my face and kissed me hard. I felt our tears mesh as I deepened the kiss. I put the gun on the nightstand as I flipped her softly under me. She just threw her arms around my neck in response as she moaned into my mouth.
Before I knew it, our clothes were on the floor. I looked over at them, then back at most beautiful woman of my life. Her eyes were pleading and knowning. I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks, falling down upon her naked body. She just wiped them away before leaning up to whisper into my ear, her breath sending shivers up my body.
"I need you."
I felt her slightly push me away as she told me she was done. I rolled off her and to the side of the bed. I grabbed the duvet, which somehow landed on the floor, and threw it over us. I then slid my arms under my beautiful wife and kissed her shoulder. She pressed her back into my chest and I could feel her breathing steady in my arms. We stayed like that for a few hours. At first I thought she had fallen asleep, so I turned over to look at the gun on the table.
"Jen?" I heard her voice from behind me. I turned slowly, to see her face, caked in dry tears. I pulled her closer. She put a hand on my chest and cried harder into me. I swallowed, realizing that this was it. I took a breath and said the words that I tried to avoid saying.
“Okay. I'll do it.” I choked out, breaking the silence. Sam bit her lip as a new wave of tears washed over her. I reached over and took the gun in my hand. It felt cold and heavy in my palm. It took me awhile to take in what I was about to do.
I was about to kill my own wife. My last love. My only friend.
“Listen Jen, if you miss and I'm just bleeding, don't help me. I don't want help. I want death.” She breathed in my ear slowly. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head.
“I don't know if I can, Sam. I just-”
“You'll do fine. I know you well enough.” She but in, smiling again. How could death make her happy? It was what she wanted, and that's all that mattered now. I leaned into her again.
“I swear… I'll make sure it's painless.” I said, kissing her. Sam smiled into me grimly before shutting her eyes. I never wanted to let go. I just wanted her to stay, to keep fighting.
But there's only so much you can fight for.
“I know you will.” She mumbled. I brought her closer to me, her head on my chest, her hands at my shoulders. I grasped the gun and held it under her chest. Sam didn't even flinch, let alone blink. I looked at her, wrapped around me like a cloth.
“Are you sure that this is what you truly want?” I asked one final time. Sam nodded and sobbed, gripping my shoulders tighter. I took a deep breath and firmly grasped the barrel of the gun, my finger poised, ready to shoot. I leaned into her once again, pressing my face against hers.
"I love you Jen. I love you so much." She whispered, her voice cracking. I swallowed hard, feeling the tears just drip from my face.
“I love you… Never forget that.” I hummed mercifully, before pulling the trigger.
There was a sharp gasp from Sam as the bullet carved through her heart and slammed into the bedroom wall. Then there was nothing.
Absolute silence.
I held Sam in my hands, crying and cradling her like a child. I pushed my head into her dead body, trying to find warmth. I could feel the blood spreading, smearing us both in the crimson liquid. I rocked back and forth, our bodies swaying in the dark. I stroked Sam's head and closed my eyes.
She was gone. Forever.
It was though it was all happening in slow motion. The bedroom door busted open and the cops flooded in, tearing me away from Sam. I dropped the gun on the bed, blood from her wound on my chest.
The police took me and held me at the bedside, screaming at one another. I heard nothing though, like as if I was deaf. I watched as the two lady cops took her pulse, but found none. They then pushed down on her chest, trying to start her heart. The cops held me at the base of the bed and cuffed me. I felt them drag me away from her. From that women on the bed.
The woman that I had killed. The woman that I saved.
The cops dragged me back to the car, ramming me in the back seat. They threw in some clothes and slammed the door shut. I kept my head down the entire ride.
Was I ashamed? No. Regretful? No.
Want to know why?
My job had been done.
Present Time
Turns out the neighbor heard the gunshot. She filed charges against me, although she wasn't even there. She didn't even hear what Sam had to say. Needless to say, I pleaded guilty. I said nothing more than what was required of me to tell. I did not want to protest, and so I was given nine years in prison.
The same nine years my wife was given to live.
I had always wondered what it would be like to live the in same kind of pain that she did.
Now I can, and now I will.
Though, there was one thing I asked the judge. I asked her if I could keep one small item. I told her what it was and she agreed. I also told her, as my closing statement, that I was not a bad person. I was just a good person doing what I had to do for my wife.
Now, I sit in my cell, distant to the world, dreaming of the day God will take me so I can take my place next to my wife. Now, nothing else matters. Now, I have nothing to live for.
Now, I say, I wait for death.
Every morning I wake up and look at the one item I wanted to keep with me. It was the photo that Sam gave me before I killed her. The photo of me and her smiling in the sunset. I swear I can still smell and hear her today. I know now that she is in a better place. One in which she can finally feel happy again, and for eternity. Everyday, I glance down at the caption at the bottom of the photo, where our hands were clasped, and smile.
“Life is beautiful.”