Every Last Drop Read online

  “Good. Don’t wait. I never should have waited,” I told them, talking about much more than a fried treat.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Friday, May 23, 2014

  * * *

  “Hey, baby. What are you doing?” Kyle found me in our bedroom while I was changing from loose jeans into even looser sweatpants.

  Beast was on the bed, but when he saw Kyle, he stretched and trotted from the room.

  “I’m going to take a quick nap.” I yawned, pulling on a T-shirt. “It’s been a long morning.”

  “Tell me about it.” He came up behind me and kissed my neck. He yanked his shirt over his head, then tossed it into the hamper. “I’ll take one with you.”

  He kicked off his shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, watching me. I busied myself pumping lotion into my hand from a bottle on the dresser. Rubbing it in, I tried to ignore how close my bones were to the surface. At least my skin was soft now—the roughness of once being a climber was long gone from my hands. I actually felt feminine for the first time in a long time; ironic since my body had lost most of its curves.

  Clearing his throat, I heard him take a deep breath as if he was about to say something. He paused, cleared his throat again. I kept my eyes on my hands until he finally said what was on his mind.

  “What did you end up telling the doctor?” he asked, his voice smaller than I’d ever heard it before.

  I’d known the question was coming. It’s why I’d avoided eye contact and was re-lotioning my hands for the third time.

  “Tessa?” he asked again.

  I rubbed the final bits of lotion in, exhaling slowly before climbing under the covers. “I got a few prescriptions—pain killers, anti-seizure, nausea. Delores is visiting every day, and when things get worse, there will be around-the-clock care to help me at home.”

  “Hospice.” The word rolled off his tongue as if he were tasting it, testing the flavor. His grimace told me he didn’t like it.

  “Hospice, but at home,” I replied, pulling the covers down enough to watch him climb into bed beside me. “I want to die here, Kyle. With you and my family by my side. Not in a cold, hospital room. I want to go peacefully, comfortably.”

  He was quiet a minute, turning his body to stare up at the ceiling. “You’re not going to fight?” His words pierced through me, his anger seething beneath. It wasn’t directed at me, but it gutted me anyway. “You’re not going to do anything, Tessa?”

  “There’s nothing I can do.” A whisper this time. “Kyle, I’m dying.”

  His head shook against the pillowcase. “There’s always something we can do. There are treatment options, Tessa. Radiation, chemo, experimental drugs.” His voice heavy with sorrow, his hands rubbing his forehead, tears welling in his eyes. “There’s a chance, Tessa.”

  Frustration pushed at me, bristling my insides, making it harder to control my tone. “A chance for what? A few more months of pain and suffering, of not being able to enjoy our time left together? Is that what you want for me?”

  “If it means being with me longer, then yes!” he shouted.

  His sudden burst of volume made me jolt against the sheets. Pushing up onto my elbows, I stare at him, mouth open. “You don’t mean that.”

  He climbed out of bed in a flurry of blankets, groaning as he began pacing the room. “Tessa—I—I…”

  My heart thumped in my chest, watching emotions play across his face as heavily as guilt sunk in my stomach. I was doing this to him. I could fix everything—take away his pain. I just had to fight for something I didn’t want to fight for to do it.

  Finally, Kyle paused in front of me. Burdened eyes turned to me, and he took my hand in his. “I don’t want you in pain. I just want you here. I want you ’til we’re old. I want the forever we always talked about.”

  “Kyle,” I said, sniffling and searching his deep green eyes. “I don’t have forever. Not anymore. I have here, now. We only have this moment.”

  He pulled me to him and hugged me against his chest. “My love for you is greater than a moment, Tessa.”

  “That’s all we have,” I whispered, loving every inch of this man. “That’s all we get, Kyle.”

  “This is so fucking unfair,” he whispered in reply, burying his face in my shoulder.

  “Come on.” I pulled him farther onto the bed, and we crawled under the covers together.

  His arms wrapped my stomach, my back to his chest. At my smaller weight, his arms circled entirely around me and then some. I’d never been particularly heavy, but I’d also never known a thigh gap I hadn’t rectified with carbs. I liked that about myself. I flaunted the few curves I had, and I looked damn good in a bikini. Now I was no different from a hanger, as if I only existed to hold up the clothes on my back.

  Despite this, I felt like my old self in my husband’s arms. The same warmth, the same tightness. Powerful, wanted. I felt desired as a woman when his length reacted to my proximity, pushing against my lower back. This was our normal, our simple.

  Cancer had no say.

  Our souls married into one, ceasing to exist separately: healthy vs. sick, living vs. dying, man vs. woman. He kissed and caressed me in the most delicate ways. Despite my exhausted body, I wanted him and he wanted me. It was normal, and we needed this.

  Gentle hands, slowly removing my clothes one piece at a time. I was a porcelain doll beneath his fingertips, and he cared for me with everything he had. It’d been a while since we’d been together, and, despite my frail and bald body, our muscles remembered each other as if they’d never been apart.

  His lips stole mine as I shattered against him, consumed by him. I felt him in my core, telling me he loved me with every thrust. When he pulled my hips tighter against his, I felt the outpouring of his affections inside me and I cried.

  I cried because this had once been us hoping for a baby.

  We’d thought we had forever. We’d thought we’d have a family.

  We’d spend the rest of our lives wrapped around each other, teasing each other’s bodies, bringing each other to the brink of ecstasy, hold each other as we fell over the edge.

  Now he had a forever that would last long after I was gone.

  Six months, at best.

  “Tessa?” Kyle fell against the mattress, pulling our naked bodies together, draping the sheet over us. “Why are you crying?”

  I sniffed, pushing away a tear with the pad of my thumb. “I don’t know how to sum it up in words. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed us just being us. I’m going to miss us.”

  He wiped the tears from my cheeks with his lips. “Don’t talk like you’re already gone, baby.”

  “Haven’t I?” My heart throbbed against my rib cage, reminding me of all I’d lose. “It feels like it.”

  “No, you haven’t gone anywhere. We still have time. We still have time to be together, to be us. To do all the things we’ve always wanted to do. Maybe it’s good you don’t want to do the treatments—we’ll be us longer.”

  Kyle spoke slowly, clearly coming around to the idea. He wanted more time. I did, too, but time wasn’t everything—even when it meant so much.

  “There’s not enough time for every single thing,” I reminded him.

  “Why not? I’ll take a leave off work.” Kyle ran his fingers down my jaw line. “We’ll write a list of everything you’ve ever wanted to do.”

  “We can’t have a child.”

  Kyle didn’t respond, but I watched his throat bob as he swallowed. He squeezed me a little tighter.

  “I’m so sorry, Kyle,” I continued, attempting to stifle the threat of tears anew.

  “Don’t be,” he replied. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “I know, but it’s still ruining everything. We talked about kids for so long. We were trying, then I lost the pregnancy, and now I’m—”

  Kyle put a finger to my lips. “Tessa, stop. We’ll drive ourselves crazy thinking that way. It’s not in the cards for everyone to be parents. That’s just li
fe. We tried. That’s what matters.”

  I blinked back tears. “Can we pretend for a moment?”

  “Pretend what?” he asked, tracing the tips of his fingers down the side of my face and neck until he reached my collarbone.

  “That we’re going to be parents,” I whispered, curling closer to him. “That we have forever.”

  “Are we having a boy or a girl?” he asked. No hesitation. I loved him so much in this moment. He settled onto his back, both of us staring at the ceiling, the blanket pulled to our chins, and our hands linked between us.

  “A girl,” I answered.

  “Do I get a say in naming her?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  The corners of my lips lifted. “Depends, what would you name her?”

  “Mildred? We could nickname her Milly.”

  I laughed. “You don’t get a say in naming her.”

  He squeezed my hand, a low, throaty chuckle.

  “What about Elise?” I offered.

  “I like Elise,” Kyle said. “Elly would, too. Wasn’t she named after your mom?”

  “Yeah, Elizabeth. I think Elise would be an homage to her, but still unique.” I knew my mother would have approved. “Still her own.”

  “Elise will have your light brown hair, but my green eyes,” he added.

  “Definitely your eyes,” I agreed. “She is tall like you, too.”

  Kyle smiled. “And she has your button nose.”

  “And your meticulousness and organization,” I said, teasing.

  “Nah.” Kyle chuckled. “I think she’s artsy and creative, like you. Everything in its place, but all of those places a little off from the rest of the world. She’s got your wit. She’s known for her ability to make everyone around her laugh.”

  I grinned. “Just snarky enough to not be called rude, but too snarky to be considered sweet. But she’ll be loved.”

  “She’ll be loved.” Kyle’s voice was quieter now. “She’ll be loved more than any one person could ever be, and it’s because you’ll be her mother.”

  I didn’t say anything. Instead, I squeezed my hand tighter in his, my teeth clenched. My chest throbbed at the thought of her tiny face and little baby fingers and toes. I pictured her in my arms, warm and soft. She called me Mama. Kyle had his arms around us both, and he was so obviously head over heels in love with her. He was entirely at her beck and call, and she knew it—she knew she was loved.

  Because she was. She is. She would have been so loved.

  Without my permission, her image faded away to nothing, my lap cold and empty. She wasn’t there. She never was.

  We never were.

  Kyle angled to his side to face me, draping an arm across my waist. He nuzzled his nose against my neck, whispering. “You’re loved, Tessa.”

  “All the love?” I repeated our phrase to him, not looking at him.

  “Forever and ever.”

  As he kissed across my collarbone, I realized for the first time how wrong our statement was now, and how much I didn’t want that for him. I pushed the painful thought away and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  “Forever and ever,” I agreed.

  “So, have that with me, Tessa. Fight this with me,” he whispered, his jaw clenched tightly. “Fight the cancer. Don’t give up.”

  Was he serious? “Kyle—”

  “Think of Elise. Think of the three of us together. Think of what we could be.” He sounded desperate now, his voice pleading. “Think of me, Tessa. Don’t leave me.”

  My heart shattered into a million little pieces. “There’s nothing left to fight, Kyle. I’m dying. One way or another…I’m dying.”

  He let go of me and rolled on to his side, facing away from me. He was quiet for several seconds, a heavy blanket of despair dropping over us. “I don’t know if I’ll forgive you for doing this, Tessa. I expected you to fight. I expected more.”

  And my heart broke for him, and for me.

  * * *

  • ღ • ღ • ღ •

  * * *

  Saturday, May 24, 2014

  * * *

  “So that’s it, then.” Elly looked at her hands folded in her lap, ignoring the bowl of cereal in front of her, surely soggy by now.

  I sighed, wishing for something I could do to ease the tension. “This is going to happen no matter what I do—or don’t do.”

  She nodded, as she had the entire time I explained my decision. “I know. I get it.”

  I reached out and squeezed her upper arm. “It’ll be okay, Elly.”

  “Of course it won’t be okay, Tessa.” Her eyes widened. “You’re dying. Nothing is okay about this.”

  I bit my lip, saying nothing.

  “None of this is okay,” she repeated slower this time, standing from the kitchen table. Her cereal sat abandoned as she rushed away. I knew she was trying to hide her tears from me, but I wished she hadn’t.

  My dad walked in, glancing at Elly’s retreating figure then turning to me. “Everything okay?”

  I grimaced at the word choice. “Not really.”

  He scratched his scruffy beard before pulling coffee grounds and a filter from the cupboard to make a fresh pot. “Kyle told me about hospice.”

  I pinched my brow. “Are you angry, too?”

  “Not about hospice,” he told me, grabbing a fresh mug. “I’m angry any of this is happening in the first place, but I’d never be angry you’re making the right decision for you, sunshine. After everything with your mother, I don’t blame you one bit.”

  “What do you mean?” I pushed off the chair and refilled my glass of orange juice for another round of medications waiting for me on the table.

  “Your mother kept trying treatment after treatment until the very end. That was the right choice for her, because if there was any chance she could stay longer to be with you girls, she’d have taken it.” His sad eyes filled with the briefest of hope, then fell to a grimace. “But it came at a cost.”

  He held the mug in his hands, steam from the coffee billowing into his face, but he wasn’t paying attention. “She was in so much pain. The entire last eight months were in a bed, hooked to machines and tubes, unable to care for herself. She lived longer than they predicted, but the way she lived… I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. She put on a brave face. I don’t think I ever knew the true extent of her pain. Eventually, she was just waiting. She was ready to go, but God let her lay there in pain for so long. I kept begging Him to take her sooner, but she just lay there.”

  A few memories, bits and pieces, resurfaced as I swallowed my medication. Her face, her eyes shining as she looked at me. The way her fingers curled around my hair, pushing it behind my ear. How soft her lips felt against my cheek when she kissed me goodnight every night even when she couldn’t get out of bed. “She was never not smiling. She made everything seem fine—safe.”

  My dad smiled, his far away gaze back on me now. “She didn’t want you girls to be hurt. Everything she did was for her girls. I wish I’d been there more.”

  “You had to work, Dad.”

  “When my wife was dying? I could have left the service, or demanded more time off. I could have made her my priority, made you girls my priority. I could have done more.” His voice quivered as he spoke through gritted teeth. Over twenty years ago, yet the guilt was still so prominent in his features that it seemed barely no time had passed at all. “Maybe I was gone on purpose, too afraid to watch her go. I did many tours in my career, but I was too much of a coward to hold my wife’s hand when she died.”

  I shuddered at the thought of the last few days, the idea that I could actually be ready to die, then have to wait, and wait, and wait for a higher power to choose my last breath. My family anguishing by my bedside, counting every rise of my chest. It seemed medieval in its cruelty.

  My mother had gone through that, and I couldn’t imagine her suffering. I thought of the stories I’d heard of her final days and the little pieces I remembered—her barely
-there body wasting away as she wished for death to come and it just…didn’t. Only pain and agony for days and days. Until it finally did.

  Why did she have to wait like that? Why did she have to suffer?

  I definitely didn’t want to die. I wasn’t ready today. But I know I’d have to be ready, whether I liked it or not, a lot sooner than I’d ever imagined. Pain, seizures, blindness, paralysis. I’d want to die, and yet, I’d have no choice. Not on how soon I’d die, or how long I’d be hovering on the edge of death waiting to tip over.

  Ironic, really.

  Dr. Burton and Dr. Page’s words snuck through my mind, and I wondered if it would be so bad to choose. If it would be so bad to pick the day I’d die, the way I’d die. To take back control of my life, and my death.

  “Dad,” I began, but he waved me off.

  “Tessa, take these next few weeks, or months, or however long, to do something worth doing. Something you’ve always wanted. I spent too much time avoiding the uncomfortable, the far reaches. Be daring. Be bold. You’ve nothing left to lose.”

  My heart swelled at the sincerity of his tone, the depth of his words. “Live in the moment and make a bucket list,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I never liked that term,” Dad said, sitting down next to me at the kitchen table. “It’s too much pressure.”

  “Well, whatever it’s called, I know what I’d put on it,” I told him after swallowing the last of my pills. “First, I’d learn how to make the perfect pancake. Mine are always blob-shaped.”

  Dad laughed.

  “And I’m going to smoke pot,” I continued, my dad laughing harder now. “I want to travel to another country, too. Not far, because I’m unsure how sick I’ll be. Just one last stamp on my passport—maybe Niagara Falls.”

  “Niagara is beautiful,” Dad agreed. “So, weed and waterfalls. What else?”

  “I don’t know… hmmm. I’d definitely want to spend every day possible with you, Elly, Kyle—and, of course, Beast.” I stared at the sleeping dog under the table, smiling. “I want to finish writing my book. And…and I want to celebrate my twenty-ninth birthday.”