This Is Not How It Ends(75)
“Don’t forget the tasty shakes,” Philip joked, his voice scratchy like the grainy powders used to prolong his life. Disappointed, Jimmy excused himself from the table and sat on the nearby couch with a sketch pad and pencils. Liberty soon followed, and their departures left an empty, awkward quiet.
“What’s gotten into you two?” Philip asked. “A day on the boat is exactly what we all need. Goose, wait till you see this one in her bikini. She’s splendid. Put on your happy faces. Tomorrow’s sure to be the best day ever.”
CHAPTER 35
October 2018
Islamorada had lost its sheen when I learned of Philip’s sentence. The golden sun that appeared each morning no longer signaled a beautiful spark of life, but became the symbol of a dwindling flame. Its shine burned my eyes, and I’d draw the blinds so I didn’t have to see. The choppy waters that once peacefully rose and fell along our property now clawed at me, the creepy tide ripping away dreams. The cycles taunted me with memories. The magic had disappeared.
But that day on the water with Ben and Philip, my fiancé gave us the first of his many gifts. We could dwell on what was about to be lost to us forever, or we could embrace the moment we were given. Regardless of what Philip’s body was telling him, no matter the limitations, he showed up—unencumbered, hysterically funny Philip. Ben and I had no choice but to comply.
Philip with a project, a beginning and an end, was happier and less agitated. The boat, with its sweeping sail, had a purpose, and for that afternoon, she was Philip’s pride. He ordered us around, telling us where to sit, where to stand, and how to assist with the rudder. The air was breezy, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We took off to the north and anchored in a quiet cove where the waters were flat and you could see through to the bottom. It was as though the ocean air filled Philip’s veins and revived him. His skin absorbed the sun’s warmth; his eyes reflected the playful waters. Ben poured the wine, but it was Philip who insisted on champagne.
“I know it appears as though there’s literally nothing to celebrate these days,” Philip began, his slight fingers gripping the glass, “but I see it differently. I have my best mates and a brilliant ocean propping me up. What more could a man want?”
We clinked glasses, and the tinkling sound charted a course. Realization passed from Ben to me. This was destiny. However we’d arrived, we were here, and to honor and care for Philip was our responsibility.
The champagne was sweet, and I smiled up at Philip. I moved in closer so he could rest his arm around my waist. Ben photographed us with his phone. Then we challenged ourselves with a selfie.
The drinks flowed, and we devoured Ben’s homemade delicacies while Philip downed his pills and tablets with a smoothie. We breathed in the views and watched the passing boats. Philip probably shouldn’t have been drinking as much as he did. Eventually, he undressed to his bare ass and jumped in the water. His skeletal frame was shocking, though we pretended not to notice. “Come on, Charley, it’s your turn,” he hollered from the water.
“You’re crazy,” I shouted back. Ben was beside me and his eyes were bearing down.
“You too, Goose. Show us what you’ve got.”
“This is a very bad idea,” Ben muttered under his breath.
“I’m not skinny dipping,” I called out.
“Goose,” Philip said, “you’re my best friend. We share everything.”
“You’ve had a bit too much to drink, Skipper,” Ben replied.
“You have no idea how lovely it feels.” He was flapping his arms in the water, and the splashing sounds distracted me from the slur in his voice. He was shouting, singing rather, about being at one with nature. I couldn’t help but laugh through the devastating ache of his leaving us. “Idiot’s going to drown himself,” Ben said, stripping down to his boxers and cannonballing into the water. I looked away, catching Philip’s bloodshot eyes instead. He watched as I shimmied out of my shorts, revealing my bathing suit.
If there was anything Philip’s illness taught me, it was less thinking and more living. To stay young, you had to act young. Tossing my inhibitions aside, I welcomed the water against my skin—that moment, suspended in air when I was a part of the sky.
“Look at her, Goose. Spectacular, yes?” They were the words I heard as I crashed through the glassy water.
Both men were there to greet me as I rose to the surface. For some, I was the luckiest girl alive, but this particular triangle was perilous. Philip was alternating between splashing us and floating on his back, peering up at the sky. “Who said dying wasn’t great fun?”
The evil contradiction of that day was everywhere. There was the mild temperature of the water, the sky above, lit up like an eternal blue. The sun drenched our skin, and our lips tasted of salt. When the world was this beautiful, it was easy to forget that cruelty existed. The champagne dulled the sadness and replaced it with a joy I hadn’t felt in weeks.
“See how lovely this is, Charley,” Philip said in my direction. “Sitting home and playing Florence Nightingale is no way to carry on.”
I dug deep inside, but I couldn’t find the words to explain my vow to him. To us.
Ben answered for me. “Charlotte and I don’t view it as an obligation, Philip. Everything we do, whether it’s being here and getting piss drunk and jumping in the ocean, or sneaking vitamins into your food, or wiping the drool off your mouth . . . because you do drool when you sleep . . . I’ve seen it . . .” He laughed. “That’s what we do. That’s what the people who love you do. They show up. They take care. They love.”