Chapter Forty-Two
True to his word, Oscar doesn’t blame me.
Four months ago, Nellie pled guilty to manslaughter.
Harold was arrested and charged with aiding and abetting in the conviction of Braxton Ames as well as attempted murder.
After Nolan testified, he sold the mansion and all of his other property and moved to the West Coast.
Oscar walks around Savannah from sunrise to sunset, stopping at book stores and coffee shops. He says very little, but always gives me a warm smile and kiss on the cheek like I’m still the light of his life. I’m not sure if he’s avoiding me or just searching for a new direction.
I feel quite lost myself. Theo disappeared.
I haven’t looked for him. What could I possibly say or do to change what has happened?
He has the truth. I didn’t stand in the way of him turning in Nellie, and I won’t stand in the way of him grieving the news of his mum cheating on his dad.
He is unequivocally the love of my life—of every life I will ever have. He’s branded into my scarred soul.
I wish him well.
Oscar encourages me every day to love myself enough to continue what I “originally came to Savannah to do.” I remind him that I came here to die on my own terms. His response is always the same: “Exactly.” I think I finally understand what he means.
Death is inevitable for everyone, but we can make choices in life that increase our chance of taking lots and lots of breaths before our time expires.
I have juice. I have tea. Meditation starts my days, followed by physical therapy.
My ankle is better, not perfect, but close.
With my new and affordable car, I drive to Tybee several days a week to walk along the shore.
It’s difficult with my ankle still healing, but I feel better when I can walk by the house where it all began.
Sometimes I think I see Theo swimming in the distance but it’s never him, just wishful thinking.
I guess if I have 70,000 thoughts a day, I might as well make as many of them as ‘wishful’ as possible.
“How was work?” Oscar asks as I come through the door. He’s sprawled out on the sofa that he’s been sleeping on for the past several months.
I told him he could get rid of the sofa and haul his bed back in, but Nellie picked out the sofa, and he doesn’t want to get rid of it.
“Just fabulous.” I smirk with an eye roll.
“You’re a genius, Ruby. What more could you possibly want to achieve in life?” He keeps his gaze on his book. It’s Tolle. I told him there’s a lot of comfort in Tolle and Dyer.
“I’m not sure tech support at the Apple store really qualifies as being a genius.”
“But they call it the ‘Genius Bar.’”
“True.” I ease into ‘my’ chair on a long sigh.
“It’s a waste of your potential, Ruby.”
“It’s temporary, until I literally get back on my feet. And I’m close.”
He flips another page. “Then what?”
“Well, according to the oncologist—anything.”
Oscar slaps the book shut, raising a single eyebrow. “You saw the oncologist today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And?”
“They can’t find any cancer. Blood tests, scans … everything looked perfect.”
Oscar Stone doesn’t cry, but I swear I see tears in his eyes. “Ruby, that’s …”
“Crazy? Insane? Incredibly unlikely? Inexplicable? Those were the words the doctor used. He couldn’t explain it, not that I was asking for an explanation. He kept asking me if I was sure I hadn’t had some form of treatment. Like a round of radiation or chemo could slip my mind.” I grin.
“I wish your mum—”
I shake my head. “Don’t say it. She made the decision she needed to make. If a hundred people with the same diagnosis I had did the same thing I did, I don’t know how many, if any, would still be alive.”
That will always be the hardest part for me to explain. I had terminal cancer. Surviving it, no matter the means, is a miracle. Over eighty-five percent of the world’s population believes in a higher power, yet very few people believe in miracles. It makes no sense.
“For me, it worked. Today it became my truth. I’m not going to write a book about my story, or make any miraculous claims that I’ve figured out the cure for cancer.”
He throws the book aside. “Well, you could. You’re a genius.”
I laugh and like always, it quickly fades.
I’m existing. I haven’t had a single suicidal thought since being in Lexington with Theo, but what I’m doing is far from truly living and that’s okay.
Visiting the cancer wing of a hospital and sitting in the waiting room of the oncologist’s office has given me some much needed perspective.
Not every day is a parade with fireworks, but every breath counts.
Life is incredibly fucking hard, rarely fair, and always unpredictable.
Most days, surviving is as good as it gets.
Today I watched a healthy little girl sitting next to her mum, with a lovely pink scarf wrapped around her head, give her doll to another little girl sitting across from me, with no hair and a portable oxygen pack on her back.
I shall never ever forget the smile on her face.
Love. It’s why we are here.
*
Spring.
I’m ready to put away my jumpers and dig out my flip-flops. Oscar took off two weeks ago for an epic “bucket list” road trip. I asked if he’s dying, and he winked at me. I know the answer. “We’re all dying, Ruby.”
As soon as I’m within a block of my flat, the skies open up.
Yep, it’s definitely spring. I sprint—OK, a slow jog with my ankle—then I put on the brakes just enough so I don’t slip on the stairs leading to my flat.
Once I reach the top, where I’m protected by the roof, I shake the water from my hair like a dog and glance up while pulling the key from my handbag.
I halt. Every part of my body, including my breath, just … stops.
I’ve had dreams like this—too many to count. This one is much more vivid than any of the other dreams.
“Hi.” His voice is not echoed like it’s been before in my other dreams. His golden blond hair is longer, not quite long enough to pull back into a ponytail but close.
The beard. It’s longer too. Shorter than it was when we met but longer than it was …
in my last dream. Because … this has to be a dream.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
“Mind if I come inside?” He nods toward my door, a small smile spreading across his beautiful face.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
“Hi,” I whisper.
Thunder rumbles, vibrating the floor beneath us.
Theo’s smile grows a bit more. “Is this still your apartment?”
I shake my head. “Sorry. Uh … yes.” I unlock the door and step inside, shrugging off my jacket.
Theo closes the door behind him and leans up against it, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “You live alone?” His gaze trails around the room.
I rub the goose bumps along my arms and nod. Words still evade me.
“How have you been?”
How have I been? Is that a real question? “Good.” I relinquish a polite smile.
He nods.
The awkwardness sucks the oxygen from the room. My heartbeat is sporadic like it doesn’t have a clue what to do.
“You just get off work?”
I nod.
“What do you do?”
“Um …” I fiddle with the hem of my shirt.
He chuckles.
I narrow my eyes then look down. “Oh.” I laugh at my blue shirt with an apple on the front.
“Sorry.” He pushes his hands deeper into his pockets. It brings his shoulders closer to his face. He looks so young, handsome, and … happy. “I’ve seen you at the Genius Bar.”
“You have?” I narrow one eye.
He looks down at his feet. God … who is this man? Is he embarrassed? Shy? I’ve never known this side to Theodore Reed. “Yes. I’ve been in town for a few days.”
“Stalking me?”
He glances up. “Just … seeing how you’re doing.”
I try to decide what that means as I return a slow nod.
“You look amazing.”
I smile. “So do you.”
We stare at each other in more awkward silence.
“Uh, can I get you some tea or …”
“Tea?” He chuckles. “Just say it. You only have tea or water to offer me. Maybe some carrot juice?”
I shake my head, biting back my grin. “I’m out of carrots. I need to go to the supermarket.”
“I’m good. I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to say hi and see how you’re doing.”
Theodore Reed, if you walk out that door again, I’m certain I will die right here in this very spot. It still feels like this is a dream. I’m so afraid if I move an inch, I’ll wake up and he’ll be gone.
I point toward the kitchen. “Maybe there’s still one of Oscar’s beers in the back of the fridge. I can go check.”
Theo shakes his head. “It’s fine. Really, I don’t want to keep you.” He turns and twists the doorknob.
“Do you miss me?” I ask in unapologetic desperation. I don’t need to know if he still loves me, just if he misses me. That’s all that matters.
He drops his forehead to the door, slowly rolling it side to side. My fucking feet won’t move. Maybe it’s my heart pounding in my throat. Maybe it’s the fear that if I touch him and he still leaves, the heartache will start all over again.
“So much I can barely breathe,” he whispers.
Tears flood my eyes. “Then maybe you should want to.”
He slowly turns, eyes red and glassy with emotion. “Want to what?”
“You…” I blink and the tears release “…you said you didn’t want to keep me. But if you miss me even a fraction of the way I miss you…” my voice shakes as my words struggle to claw past the lump of emotion stuck in my throat “…then maybe you should want to keep me.”
His forehead tightens. “Scarlet …”
Scarlet …
I close my eyes. My name on his lips brings my mere existence back to life again. When his hand presses to my cheek, I open my eyes.
“I don’t deserve you.”
I rest my hand on his chest. I’ve never felt his heartbeat in dreams. “You really don’t.” I grin through my tears.
He smiles back. It’s sad and filled with uneasiness. “Can I keep you anyway?”
Leaning forward, I rest my ear next to my hand on his chest. It’s such a beautiful sound, such a perfect feeling, such an unforgettable moment.
“I’ve always been yours, Theodore Reed.”
My name is Scarlet Stone, and I am alive.