Chapter 31
Lennon
More than a week had passed, and Asher and I had been spending copious amounts of time together. Too much time. Enough to make me question what the fuck I was actually doing.
But I would be lying to myself if I said it didn’t feel good to be with him.
His happiness was contagious—a thread weaving into the core of my being, spinning a web that caught me mid-freefall. The way he saw life was beautiful. He was beautiful.
A cup of coffee wasn’t just a cup of coffee.
It was something to savour, something decadent, something meant to warm you from the inside out.
Rain wasn’t meant to be ignored; it was meant to be breathed in deeply, felt as it raised goosebumps along your skin.
A walk down the street wasn’t something to rush through.
It was meant to be meaningful, slow and measured, calm—a reset on the day.
Asher was as peaceful in human form as he was in nature.
Perhaps that was why I found myself enjoying his company.
He was okay with my moods. The storms that brewed chaotically inside me were something he weathered with ease.
Nothing about him felt natural to me. No—Asher was the peace the finality of my life needed.
Which was something I knew I had to accept.
A stroke along my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, pulled me from my daze. Asher was reading to me from one of his new favourite books, Remarkably Bright Creatures, and listening to his soothing voice had quickly become one of my favourite pastimes.
“What are you thinking about?”
Peeking up at him through my lashes, my head still resting in his lap, I shook my head. “Nothing. I have an appointment with Rachel today, though. I have to go soon, and I don’t really want to.”
Honesty came easier with Asher with every passing moment. He never judged my thoughts, my accusations of him, or my wildly miscommunicated outbursts. He met me where I was, and for that, I was grateful.
He ran his fingers through my hair again. This morning, I’d brushed my hair and taken the time to straighten it for him. He loved playing with my hair, but his fingers always caught in the knots I left behind when I neglected my self-care.
He inhaled a deep breath before answering, “I know. But if we leave early, we can walk by that little bakery I told you about—the one where the old lady yells at everyone.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I’d love to get berated right before therapy.”
“It’s good to test the strength of our resilience once in a while.” Asher laughed.
I pulled myself upright on the couch. “Ah, thank you, but I’ll be just fine. Hang out here, keep Nova company. I won’t be too long.”
“You sure?” he asked, unconvinced.
“Yeah, of course. I just want to get shitty therapy over with. I’ll be back before you know it. Then we could accompany each other to shitty group therapy. Lucky us,” I mocked.
Asher chuckled. “Contrary to popular belief, I enjoy therapy—well, the kind I get to spend with you, anyway.”
I meandered around the apartment, grabbing my bag, assessing the weather outside, and determining if I needed a coat or not.
“Was it therapy if we were just having sex on balconies?” I quipped.
Asher tipped his head back, laughing. “I don’t know about you, but exposure therapy has been working for me lately. We should do it again.”
Before heading for the door, I looped back to him, leaned over the back of the couch, and kissed him deeply.
Every kiss felt like it might be the last.
As I left my apartment, I realized how differently I’d been moving through the world. Different in the way I conducted my day to day. My attitude, my habits, my behaviours. The trajectory of my perspective has since landed. Why had I kissed him like that?
Sometimes I drifted into a trance when we were alone together. Life felt divided into two worlds that rarely collided until we were separated, which has become rare. Time itself felt like a construct I wasn’t willing to decipher when it came to us.
When I was alone, every horrible feeling, every treacherous thought, every gruelling memory flooded back tenfold.
When I was with Asher, life felt different.
Like a dream I’d never know how to conjure.
A wish I hadn’t realized I’d been making.
There was fear in it, too—the unknown shadow of whatever darkness waited on the other side of whatever this was.
Because it wasn’t forever. No. Asher was just burning time. He wouldn’t be mine forever, and I knew it. Deep down, I knew we weren’t forever.
But we could be…for now.
Thirty minutes collapsed into seconds, and suddenly I stood outside Rachel’s office door. I hadn’t been using anything to get by. I hadn’t been sleeping my days away. I was sober. So walking up to her door stirred a deep-seated, ugly anxiety in my core.
No matter how many times I’d been in this exact room, it always challenged me. It forced me to take a glimpse in the mirror I’d spent years avoiding. Just getting by. Just fucking getting by.
One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks.
Waiting.
Rustling from the other side told me Rachel was about to greet me. Her warm smile was about to look at me as if she were excited to see me. Sometimes I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely happy to see her client—or relieved I was still alive.
Maybe both.
Like her therapy bullshit was actually working and giving herself hope.
The door swung open, and just as I suspected, Rachel was on the other side. Her brimming smile was ear to ear waiting for me, warm greeting and all.
“Welcome, Lennon! I’m so happy to see you on this September first. Your hair looks great, by the way!” she complimented.
My eyes widened as I deflected the compliment, “Wow, September already, huh? Fall’s coming—when it’s finally okay for things to die and still be beautiful.”
Unease slighted her features, though her warmth didn’t fade. She motioned me inside her office, and I followed suit.
She settled into her chair. The perfect accent chair for anyone’s modern, cozy living room. She turned to me. “So, Lennon. We have some news.”
I looked up at her, concerned that her news wouldn’t be news I’d want to hear. That I had messed something up. That they were going to form me again.
Sitting down cautiously, while trying my best to hide my insecurities, I asked, “Okay. What is it?”
Rachel studied me. “Before we get into any of that, are you still wanting to proceed with your application?”
Taken aback by her question, I glared at her. “Of course I am. Why would you even ask me that?”
She lifted her hand softly to ease my nerves. “I just wanted to make sure. This is a serious…choice. A choice that is yours, but I didn’t want to share information that might seal your decision if you were on the fence.”
Confusion must have flooded my face, because Rachel decided to ease the curiosity in the room. “You’ve been approved.”
My heart sank into my stomach as my peripheral vision blackened. There was a siren ringing inside my eardrum. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that Rachel just gave me the news I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear.
“I—I was approved? Really? Like, no joke? This is real life, right?” I asked, nervous for it to be taken away.
Rachel nodded slowly, a sombre emotion washing over her features. “This is real life, Lennon. I know your sense of humour has a dark edge to it, but even this one would have been a little too dark for me to joke about. Your tentative date is October sixteenth.”
The word tentative caught me off guard. “What do you mean tentative?”
“It’s just logistics. Ensuring that you complete your group counselling, continue with therapy, medication, etc. But the date is yours so long as you complete all of those tasks. I assume you plan to continue?” Rachel asked cautiously.
I nodded. “Yeah, I am. Rachel, you don’t understand what this means to me.”
For a moment, everything felt like it was finally working out for me.
Death didn’t feel so lonely when I began to near the end.
I was approaching it as if I was on the home stretch of the highway.
I could see it. I could feel it. I could taste it on my tongue.
Then I noticed Rachel’s eyes, snapping me out of the euphoria I was overcome with.
Rachel allowed a slight quirk on her lip to move, but it was the well in her eyes that caught me off guard.
“Rachel, I know I haven’t been easy to hang out with these past several years—”
Rachel shook her head before I could finish my sentence, and raised her hand to interject.
“Lennon, you have been an immense pleasure to get to know. I hoped to continue to get to know you for several more years; however, I know deep down this is what you want. I just want you to know that you have never been a burden, nor have you ever been someone I have not enjoyed speaking to. You have a light inside you that I wish you could see. I wish it would just burn a little brighter for you to find.”
Rachel stood, clearing her throat, the knot swelling inside of her evident. “Unless you have anything you’d like to discuss, I know you have group therapy today. I think it would be okay to allow therapy to cut short today.”
Guilt settled heavy on my heart, recognizing that I was hurting her. I was hurting Rachel. I stood up, matching her energy, but something inside of me felt compelled to embrace her. To comfort her.
I stepped forward and embraced Rachel. We’d never hugged or even touched one another. Rachel was respectful of my boundaries. But in this very moment, it felt peaceful—earned. A matched, quiet respect.
As I held her close, she wrapped her arms around me in return and squeezed tightly. I stood grateful—tears welling—as Rachel’s aura was sombre. We were two sides of the same coin. The consequences of a life soon to be lost.
After what felt like an eternity, we pulled apart. Rachel grasped my shoulders. “I look forward to seeing you at our next session, Lennon.”
I left shortly after, unable to look directly in her eyes for fear that I might stupidly change my mind. I didn’t enjoy disappointing her, but I knew my time was up. This session was difficult and beautiful all on its own. I couldn’t imagine how our last session would feel.
Maybe I’d grab a bottle of champagne to make it feel more celebratory that I completed some programming for once in my life? I shook my head, realizing Rachel wouldn’t appreciate that type of dark humour.
Then I froze, dead in my tracks.
Asher.
How the fuck was I going to tell Asher?
I knew he knew. I also knew he had expected this day to come eventually—but I wasn’t so sure he was ready for it.
I had always been under the impression he believed the time we spent together would outweigh any ill emotions I carried through life.
And while that was partially true, my deep urge to check out was still stronger. It would always be stronger.
I stepped outside, inhaling the breeze as it danced through my hair. The day was as good as any to be labelled the best day ever. I felt lighter—content, and dare I say, happy. Something deep within me stirred, a reckless urge to run all the way home just to share the news with Asher.
But I couldn’t.
He wouldn’t understand. He would be upset. He would want me to change my mind.
Then a small part of me—an unfamiliar inkling of an emotion—felt a pang of sadness at the thought of the end coming. The time I had spent with Asher had been a refreshing shift in my circumstances, one I hadn’t seen coming.
What if there were more surprises waiting for me?
What if Asher had a lifelong plan to make everything in my life better?
Another thought stopped me dead in my tracks.
Asher wasn’t going to live forever. He was sick. Terminal. His time was limited—just as mine was. The only difference was that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He was destined for death sooner than expected.
And I, on the other hand, chose it.
This was what was best. Maybe I would be put out of my misery before he was, spared the agony of living even one day without him.
Then another dreadful thought crept in.
I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky.