4. - – Sienna
CHAPTER FOUR
-
SIENNA
“What do you mean by that?” Her voice is calm, but it presses in anyway.
I hesitate, my fingers tightening in my lap as I stare down at them.
“He just… started doing things differently.” That doesn't feel right, but I don't know how else to say it.
I swallow, forcing myself to keep going.
“He stopped asking me to come with him to places.” A pause.
“Appointments. Check-ins. Stuff like that.”
My jaw tightens slightly. “At first, I didn't think anything of it.
I figured maybe he just didn't want me sitting in another waiting room, you know?” I let out a small breathy laugh.
“I had already done enough of that.” The words sit heavier than I intended.
“But then it kept happening.” I rub my palms together slowly, trying to shake off the feeling creeping under my skin.
“He started making plans without me… or not making them at all I guess is the more accurate statement.”
Another pause, my mouth needed to catch up with the thoughts and memories running through my head.
“If I asked how he was doing, he'd just tell me he was fine.” I shake my head slightly.
“Not in a dismissive way. Not like he was annoyed.” That part matters.
“Like he was trying to make it easier for me to believe it.” Silence fills the room for a second.
I shift in my seat, shoulders tightening.
“He stopped talking about anything that had to do with being sick. As if cancer had become some sort of curse word and not the reason we met.” My voice drops with dread.
“He wouldn't let me sit with him on the bad days… wouldn't even tell me when there were bad days.” A breath catches in my throat and tears begin to form again. “He’d just… disappear for a little while.” I blink slower, my gaze fixed on the floor once again “Then he would come back to me like nothing had happened, like he'd only stepped away for a moment instead of leaving me to drown in the silence.
Space wasn't the issue. I could have survived space. It was the secrets that hurt. The things he refused to say. The truth he kept carrying alone.”
My fingernails dig into my palms as the memories become more vivid.
“I think…” I start, then stop. The thought sits there, heavy and uncomfortable.
“I think he didn't want me to see it.” Saying it out loud makes something in my chest physically tighten.
“Like if I didn't see it , then it wasn't real…
like his cancer wasn't eating him alive- literally. Or maybe…” I shake my head slightly, pushing the thought away before it can fully form.
“I don't know.” The words leave my lips but frustration has taken the lead.
Silence settles between us again. I shift in my seat, my nails drawing blood from me trying to distract myself from the feeling crawling under my skin.
“I didn't handle it well,” I admit after a moment.
That's putting it very lightly. “I told myself I was fine at first.” A humorless breath slips out.
“That I was just giving him space. That I was being understanding.”
I nod to myself lightly as though I'm still trying to convince myself even now.
“But he got… quiet” Quiet wasn't the right word but it's the only one I can think of, it's too easy.
“He wasn't calling as much, which meant I wasn't seeing him.” I swallow.
“And when you spend enough time sitting in your own head…” I trail off, shaking my head.
“You start looking for ways to shut it up.”
“I just wanted it to stop, you know.”
I can feel the blood oozing from the small cuts in my palms. “I didn't think it was a big deal.” That part comes out quick. Defensive. “Just something to take the edge off. Something to help me sleep. The seroquel was prescribed but it wouldn’t have mattered if it wasn’t.
” A deafening silence settles. “It worked… at first anyway.”