A Love Like the Sun

Chapter 45 This Timeline

While Mom and Lex are in my kitchen cooking something they’re going to make me eat, I’m in bed, doing exactly what they told me not to do: googling chronic kidney disease. Symptoms, dialysis, transplants. Shane left me with a couple of pamphlets, but they weren’t enough. I read about complications from toxins building up in the bloodstream when the kidneys aren’t functioning properly enough to remove them, which is what could cause the heart to work harder to circulate blood and can lead to heart disease.

I see my dad, his labored breathing, and remember my mom at his side, her tears falling as she clasped his hands in her own.

I remember the appointments, the canceled plans, the tiredness in my mom’s eyes—the slope of her shoulders while she cried by the sink.

I read about the possibility of a shortened life span—that the average life expectancy for a forty-year-old woman diagnosed with stage three is only twenty-eight years. I’m not even twenty-eight yet, what would it mean for me?

When I get to the part about pregnancy and higher risks and life-threatening complications, the tiny flickers I’d begun to imagine of Issac and a tiny hand in his now ignite panic inside of me. Will that light inside of him dampen with worry for me? Will we make choices out of fear instead of joy?

What did my mom give up, and what would Issac?

All of these years I’ve been afraid of losing someone I love the way that I love him, but now I’m envisioning the opposite. Can I really give him my love then risk him losing me and feeling alone in the world again?

The pain is sharper as I scroll our text thread, reading his older messages like a masochist, because I already know what needs to be done. I should call him, but I can’t handle hearing his voice while breaking his heart. And he’ll hear me break through the line and try to fix it like he always does.

Except he can’t fix this.

So I take a breath and type, delete, try again. Call myself a coward for doing it this way. I hope he’ll forgive me. God, please let him forgive me. I try to pick the perfect words while listening to Mom and Lex whispering about me from the kitchen. Then I realize there are none. Because the perfect thing would involve asking him to hop on a flight the first chance he can to hold me, make love to me, let me hear his laugh in person. Be with me.

But I love him too much for his future with me to be this uncertain.

Issac, I had the best time of my life with you this past weekend, I say. You were perfect. I’ll never forget it. And I know we said a week, but I’ve thought hard about what it would take, and I can’t be with you.

I choke on a sob as it sends.

Issac looks at the message right away. Doesn’t hesitate to type back, says something I wasn’t expecting. What is this? I don’t believe you, Ni. I knew what you wanted before you got on that plane. I could feel you like our hearts were in the same body. What has happened since we last spoke that has you running scared?

He knows. He knows he’s worthy of love. That he deserves someone to spend forever with. He knows he has my heart. For a moment, I sit in that feeling. Happy for my best friend, proud of the love of my life who grew up unsure. But my fingers are faster than the reassuring words I want to tell him, because I don’t know if I’m someone he can spend forever with.

Can we forget the weekend happened and please go back to being friends? Please. I need you in my life, I love you in my life, but not like this. I’m so sorry, I say.

He tries to call right after he reads my message, but I reject it. He leaves a voice mail. My heart hurts as I listen. “Was it something I said on socials? We can fix it. Laniah, I’ll adjust whatever for you. You don’t even need to come out here anymore. You don’t need to show your face at events. I’m so damn in love with you. Whatever it takes because I know you feel it too. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Let’s work through it together.”

The tears run hot down my face; my chest burns too. What happened since we last spoke is that I was diagnosed with a disease that can kill me, by doctors who weren’t mine because the one I had for years didn’t care to tell me. And I decided I won’t let all of this do damage to Issac, who’s already lost so much in his life and is finally in a good place. He deserves to be with someone healthy. And I don’t want to feel the weight of not being that for him. But I can’t tell him this right now. I need to be in a better place emotionally, mentally prepared to be strong and not allow him to change his whole life for me like I know he would. Especially when I can only offer friendship. Anything else might hurt both of us too much. I’ll tell him about my diagnosis soon, but I hope by the time I do he won’t connect it to me saying I don’t want to be with him.

It takes everything left in me to type what I do, to hit Send, but I know it’s the right thing for him. If I can save him a lifetime of possible pain, then I need to. That’s the thing, Issac. I really took the time, and I do love you. I always will. You’re my family. But a romantic relationship is not worth risking what we already have. I hope we can pull past this. I’m sorry.

I just told the love of my life that being with him isn’t worth the risk.

The sharpness in my sternum makes me clutch my chest.

I wait for him to demand a real explanation while trying to catch my breath and fighting the urge to call and tell him it’s all a lie, that I need him now more than ever.

But Issac doesn’t write back after that.

Somehow, I manage to get some sleep, but I doubt Mom did. In the morning, she has tea ready for me by the bed, and she’s sitting at the edge waiting for me to wake up. And I think of making a joke about how grown I am, that she doesn’t need to watch me sleep, but I feel comforted that she did. Until I remember all the time that she spent sitting by my father’s bed.

“Morning,” she says, then gestures to the steaming cup. “Since we can’t talk to your new kidney doctor for two weeks, I had to use the internet to find out which tea is still safe for you because the pamphlets Shane left mentioned that some herbs aren’t great for the kidneys.”

I swallow and reach for her hand, say, “You’ve been researching for me.”

She laces our fingers. “Did you know I saw something online about horsetail root being bad too? We make products with horsetail root; you use them all the time. I can’t believe your asshole of a doctor didn’t tell you about this. I’m sorry for not listening to you when you—”

“I’m not upset with you. It’s still hard for me to wrap my mind around too,” I say, and the anger and betrayal swell inside of me again. Dr. Rotondo knew my labs were off for years. He made me believe I couldn’t trust myself, I couldn’t listen to my body. Why? Why would he do this? How many glasses of herbal tea would I have sipped on without knowing I was unintentionally doing more damage to my kidneys before he thought my disease was serious enough to tell me about it? How many bottles of ibuprofen might I have gone through for my headaches before learning that it’s hard on my already weakened kidneys? How many people are afraid to sound stupid or bother their doctor with questions and worries, then end up leaving visits feeling inferior because of a power dynamic that shouldn’t exist? Doctors are here to help, not to create complexes because of a system that gives them superiority.

I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts, I don’t notice when Mom begins to cry. But then she hollers out, a deep sound from her throat that brings me back to my teenage years: her painful shower cries when she thought I wasn’t home to hear. “I don’t want you to have to give up the things you love,” she says.

“Oh, Mom.” I sit up in bed, squeeze her hand, rush to reassure her. “We don’t even know what will change yet. I’m sure Shane’s nephrologist friend will give me all the answers soon, but nothing bad is going to happen to me overnight. Not with one cup of tea. I’m okay. I promise.”

“And what about your heart?” she asks, wiping her eyes with her shirtsleeve. “You’re telling me we don’t know what will change, yet pushing Issac away prematurely. Don’t you know about God’s timing, baby? You and Issac both realized you are soulmates before you found out about this so that you can be together through it.”

I bite back a bitter laugh because of the irony. I was scared of having a love story like my parents had and look at what fate offered me. “Or maybe I found out just in time,” I tell her. “Right before I said yes to a relationship that we both might regret for the rest of my life.”

My mom sighs. “Don’t you see that you’re spiraling, baby? You’re running to the worst-case scenarios in your mind and hurting him for no reason. It’s okay for him to be with you when you spiral. That’s what partners are for.”

Her answer feels too simple for someone who spent years suffering. “I don’t want that for Issac,” I say. “And I don’t want him to make promises now that he might struggle to keep later. What if he resents me for it? What if my body changes and eventually I can’t do the things that make him happy? It’s better I end things now, set him free. Set myself free from a future of constantly worrying about how my health is affecting him.”

Mom looks sad, and so tired from spending the night watching me sleep. “Oh, baby. You don’t know the love you’re depriving him of, the love you’re depriving yourself of,” she says. “I think you’re doing the opposite of setting him free. I think you’re putting his love in a box because you’re scared of seeing how big it can be.”

My eyes burn. Big love leaves a deeper hole once it’s gone. I wipe at angry tears, afraid if she says one more thing, I’ll tell her how devastating it was watching her spiral after we lost Dad.

She turns away like she doesn’t want to broach the topic either.

“Fine. I’m not going to argue with you. I just want you to rest,” she says.

I shake my head. “I don’t want to rest anymore. Let’s get dressed and ready for work.”

Her face clouds with confusion. “We’re staying closed today.”

“What? No, Mom. This news is not going to mess with our dream,” I say, and hope she can’t hear my voice crack when considering the possibility that my illness might eventually affect my ability to work. I get out of bed and pull her up too. “Nothing is going to make me happier than being in our beautiful shop. Let’s create something good today. Okay?”

She nods, but the tears are steadily falling, even after I wipe them away. “We’ll make something special,” she finally says.

When she leaves for the bathroom, my phone buzzes on the bed.

Laniah, I made a promise, and meant it, Issac texts. I’ll love you no matter what. You’re the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lose you just because you don’t want the things I want. That’s life. Just be patient with me while I settle my silly heart. Talk soon.

Relief and sorrow take turns with me. The words are so heavy they hurt. But I let the weight settle somewhere below my breastbone. Let it take as much space as it needs there. I never thought I’d meet a man as kind as my father. Issac deserves the sun and the stars and the moon and a magnet made just for him.

With tears in my eyes, I send a heart back, wondering if we’ll have a chance at forever in another timeline.