37. Ryder
Please Don’t Go - Stephanie Rainey
Cancer.
Devina has cancer.
Devina is dying.
I can’t save her.
She lays there exposed, hurting, shattered. Her hand is limp in mine as she sleeps. She wakes up every so often calling for me. I’m always here. I can’t leave.
But she will.
I’ve replayed our time together on repeat. How did I miss the signs? There were signs. Not physically, but they were there. The way she hid from me while being completely exposed. The guardedness in her eyes.
I should hate her for lying to me. Was she lying to me, or was she simply trying to endure?
I can’t hate her though. I want to, which I’m sure is just as bad. But I love her more than the pain, more than the uncertainty, more than the fear of being without her.
For the day we made our vows, I picked her dress and flowers to match. I planned our wedding with the hopes of pleasing a woman I did not know. And now, all too soon, I will be planning a funeral for a woman I did not have nearly enough time with.
She stirs, her eyes flutter open as she takes in the bleak hospital room. She needs to be reminded of where she is. The medication is making her foggy, but the doctor assures me it is necessary to manage her pain. Pain that I didn’t know she was feeling.
“Ry-,” she tries to speak, but I’m standing at her side before she can finish, petting the hair away from her face.
“You had a long nap that time, sparrow.”
The panic subsides and she leans into my hand. The sun has set, which marks our fourth night here. She’s been too fragile to travel home, but with good news tonight, she will be transferring in the morning.
“I don’t know what to say,” she releases a tear. I can’t fault her. I have no idea what to say either.
“You don’t have to say anything.” I settle back in the chair next to her and prop my elbows on the bed to hold her hand in mine. Until her last breath, I will make it my mission to hold her.
“You must be so mad.” Her eyes shift to the ceiling, avoiding me.
“I’m not mad, Devina. I’m devastated. I’m trying to wrap my mind around the idea that when you leave, I will have to survive even a moment without you before I get to find you again.” I sigh. “It took me so incredibly long to find you.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I did this. We never had a chance.”
Every word is true, but I won’t hold it against her.
“Tell me what I can do,” I beg. I need to do something other than sit in this fucking chair.
She’s silent. We both know there is nothing I can do. There is nothing anyone can do.
She breaks her hand away from my grasp to reach for my cheek. I let her, pressing it firmly against my skin, memorizing the feeling.
There is only one question I have lingering, that I must know the answer to. “Are you scared?”
She smiles through her quiet tears, “No. I think death will be beautiful.”
“Why is that?”
“Because people rarely come back.”
My heart, which she mended, shatters to splinters. It will never be whole again.