Chapter 45
Now
No! This isn’t happening.
Not again.
She—Cathy, is still talking, but I don’t hear a word.
It’s all a blur as she rambles on.
Make her stop. Please! Somebody make her stop.
“Jill? Are you there? You need to be strong.
Michael is going to need you.”
“What? No, I don’t believe you.”
Now, I wished she was just a call girl or an affair.
I could maybe deal with that.
But not this again.
Death is final.
I hear someone whisper my name and look up to see Tammy as Marilyn again, standing across the room.
“What are you doing here?”
I curse at her in anger.
“I think you know, Jill.”
“What I know is you can’t stand the fact that I’m still alive, and for that, you’re taking Michael away from me.
Wasn’t it enough that you left me?”
“Jill, not everything is up to us.”
“No.
I refuse to believe you.
None of this is real.
You’re not real,”
I scream and throw the phone at the Tammy-Marilyn ghost.
It only hits the wall because she’s not there.
I run out the door, screaming Michael’s name.
“Michael? Where are you?”
Running through the living room, I see him sitting on the patio through the glass door.
I can’t get to him fast enough and forcefully swing the door open.
It hits the back wall, and he looks up at me with red, swollen eyes.
“Michael.
I’m here.
I’m so sorry for everything I said.”
“Jill, I’m so, so sorry.
This is not what I planned.
You have to believe me.”
He pulls me in with a crushing hug.
“I love you so much.
I never wanted this to happen.
If I knew the cancer would come back, I never would have done this to you.”
Grabbing his shoulders, I push back and look into his crying eyes.
“What are you talking about? Come back?”
He reaches for my face and wipes my tears.
I cup his and kiss his tears.
“I’ve been in remission for almost three years.
I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.
After a year of chemotherapy and stem cell treatment, we thought we had it beat.”
“We’ll do it again.
We’ll beat this thing.
Together.”
“Jill, please forgive me.
Forgive me for everything.
I wanted to be with you for a long time.”
“Michael, you will be.
It’s always been you and me.”
Even in Michael’s absences, it’s always been about him and me.
“Jill, the test came back.
It’s fast-growing this time and has spread to other areas.
It’s back, and it’s back with a vengeance.”
“I’m not giving up, Michael.”
My voice trails off.
“I never have.”
“I know, Baby.
You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.
And I wasted twenty years of it.
If I had it all to do over again…”
“Michael, you do.
That’s why you’re here.”
Somewhere through all the tears and heartache, he smiles.
“That’s right, Jill.
That’s exactly why I came.
I thought I had another shot at life, and I wanted it with you.”
“Oh, Michael.”
I hold him tightly as the chilly fall air whips around us.
Leaves fall to our feet.
No longer is this a season of beautiful changes and colors.
It’s cruel and heartless, and I hate everything about it.
How will I ever look up to the sky and see the golden and red canopy of trees without thinking of this moment? The sky is no longer blue but dark against the orange leaves. November will be just as ugly, leaving these trees bare and lifeless—an empty portrait of what once was. It’s a reminder that life and nature are not always up to us, but we must decide what to do with it.
“Jill, please believe me.
I thought I was cured.
I thought I would never have to tell you.
I never wanted you to think that it was death knocking on my door, leading me to your door.
I wanted you back long before I was first diagnosed. But, I thought you had found happiness with Drake.”
“How would you know that?”
“I was there that night, Jill—at Clementine’s.
You were so beautiful, so perfect, and so in love.
I watched the way you looked at him.
The way your eyes would light up, and I wanted it back.
I wanted those eyes to see me that way again. Though I never earned a look like that from you, you unconditionally gave it to me, and I took it for granted.”
“Michael, I swore I heard you that night.
I thought it was all part of what made me doubt Drake’s love for us.”
“And that, I’m so sorry for.
You should have been with Drake from the beginning.
Not me.
I never deserved you.”
“But then I wouldn’t have Monica.”
He chokes on his cries, forcing his words out.
“You would have had a beautiful baby with anyone, Jill.
But you chose to have my baby.
How’d I ever get so lucky?”
“Michael, stop this past talk: this doctor, Cathy McGregor.
I heard you say she was the best.
She will cure you again.”
“She would if she could.
But it’s too far advanced, and more treatment and chemo will only leave me with no quality of the life I have left.”
My eyes search his face in massive disbelief.
“No.
No.
I refuse what you are saying.
You can’t; you can’t just give up.”
“I’m not giving up.
I’ve just gone as far as life has allowed me.
And guess what?”
Tears run down his cheeks, and I kiss them, tasting the love leaking from his eyes.
“It allowed me to be with you.
I can’t think of a better way to go.”
I fall into his arms and cry, allowing him to comfort me.
“I love you so much, Michael,”
I cry into his chest.
I should have picked up on all the things he said.
He had a friend dying from cancer.
His concern for Tammy.
Our daughter’s wedding and the look on his face when he saw us. I saw a deep appreciation when he bent down and let the water run through his hand after our photo shoot. It was all there. His second chance of life was with me, and he wanted it. “How are we going to tell our daughter?”
“Monica knew.
But she doesn’t know it’s back.”
“How did she know?”
“She came and took care of me.
Something she learned from her mother.
Unconditional love.
Forgiveness.
Respect and loyalty. Everything her mother is. Can I have this day for ourselves before we need to tell her?”
“Michael.
I have nothing and everything to say.
Things I don’t want to ask and things I want you to know.”
The wind blows my hair and wraps around our faces.
I want to keep him here.
Tucked away and never to leave.
Everything passes by momentarily as Michael holds me in his arms, gently rocking us in a wordless song.
Each time I gasp with another cry, his lips press to my forehead, followed by a shush. I learned to live without him, not knowing he was always there. There in my heart, my soul, my anger, my love—he was still there. No matter how much I thought, I walked away from his memory. But that’s what memories are. They’re ours to hang on to. Cherish. It’s only how we want to remember them. I have him here right now. And even this memory will be cherished—as hard as it is.
I squeeze him with all my might, wishing to crawl inside and go with him.
Always be with him.
“How long, Michael?”
Don’t answer.
“No, I don’t want to know.”
“It doesn’t matter how long as long as it’s with you.
That’s what I want us to focus on.
Let’s not mark my life with time, but with who.”
“I’m here, Michael.
I’ll never leave your side.”
“I know.
I’ve always known.”