The Empty Jar(30)

“I’ve wanted you for all of my life. All of it! I’ve dreamed of feeling you kick for the first time. I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms for the first time. I’ve dreamed of what your face might look like—your smile, your hands, your little feet. You’ll be perfect, I know. I know in my heart that you’ll be the most perfect thing in the world. The best thing I’ve ever done. And I’ll die happy if I can see you just one time before I go.” I sniff, trying to hold back the tears that sting my eyes. “I love you. Today. Tomorrow. Always.”

I hold my wavering smile for a few seconds and then hit the red button to stop the recording. Covering my mouth, I sink to my knees, cupping my belly with my free hand, and I pray.

For all I’m worth, I pray.

********

Nate



Waking to an empty bed is hard. When I roll over, the first thing I do is look for my wife, only she isn’t there. The covers have been thrown back, and the sheets are rumpled yet cold. She hasn’t been in bed for quite some time.

My first thought is that she’s sick again, so I run to the bathroom. The door is open, and the interior is dark.

Empty.

At this point, I should be relieved not to have found her crouched in front of the toilet, heaving what’s left inside her stomach. But I’m not.

Instead, I feel panic.

For an instant, my worst fear plays out in my mind.

What if something has happened and she’s dead?

What if she suffered some rare complication and she woke up in the middle of the night, in distress, and died before I could help her?

What if she’d tried to wake me and couldn’t?

What if she got out of bed and fell to the floor then passed away, all alone?

Jesus God!

My pulse throbs like a prized stallion at the track as I race to the adjoining room in search of my Lena.

Relief, bone-melting relief floods me when I spot her. My frantic gaze sweeps by the couch and stops. I see the familiar form of my wife, curled on her side, fast asleep.

I listen to the soft swish of her breathing and count to ten, calming my erratic heart rate. I remind myself that there is no reason to think that I’ll one day wake to find her dead, unexpectedly. Cancer is, if anything, somewhat predictable when it comes to the end. At least it should be in a case like Lena’s. I’ve read the reports. I’ve heard the stories. I know it’s likely going to be slow and agonizing, and that it will end in a coma before she actually slips away.

But still…the thought of finding her already gone…of losing her sooner rather than later…

I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing the tightness in my chest and the worry in my head to the back of my consciousness. Ruthlessly, I cram those godforsaken skis back into the closet.

I can’t let my emotions ruin what time we have left. I won’t do that. Not to Lena. She deserves the very best of me—the strongest, the surest, the most confident—right up until she draws her last breath, and I’m damn sure going to give that to her. I’ll put on a brave face, a happy face, for her. I’ll never let her know that nearly every one of my thoughts are centered on losing her, on the gaping emptiness that will haunt me for the rest of my days.

I can’t let her know that.

I can’t let her know that I already know the panic that will move in to occupy my stomach. I can’t let her know that I already know the overwhelming heartbreak I’ll feel. I can’t let her know that I already know that, one day, I’ll die still feeling devastated and lost and alone.

Only half alive without her.

Despite having found her, safe and breathing and still with me, I can’t shake the feeling of fear and dread that looms over me. It’s like a shadow cast over my life, over every day of my existence, only it doesn’t go away when the sun comes out.

It lingers.

Always lingers.

Glancing back over my shoulder, I look at the bed. It mocks me. Haunts me. Like the emptiness on the right side is a living thing, breathing cold air down the back of my neck. A predator hunting me, gaining speed.

Coming for me.

Coming to take from me.

A feeling of foreboding creeps over me, reminding me that there will soon come a day when that side of the bed will be empty forever. I have no idea how I’m going to face that I can hardly stand the thought of it now, much less the reality of it then.

Walking quietly over to where Lena sleeps, I squat down beside her, staring at the beautiful face, all dreamy and tranquil in repose. I memorize the arch of her brows, the scoop of her nose, the way her long eyelashes make crescents on the high blades of her cheekbones. I etch into my brain the texture of her skin, the smooth line of her jaw, and the shape of her mouth.

Those lips…

If I close my eyes, I can feel how they soften when I kiss them, I can practically see how they spread when she smiles.

I will never forget that. Forget her.

Any small detail.

My gaze moves down the graceful shoulders and the gently moving chest to the stomach she holds with one hand, even while she sleeps. As much as I wish I could, I know I’ll never be able to forget this either—her disease, her pain. What cancer is doing to the woman I love.

I bow my head, and my tears fall in absolute silence.





Eleven

Gotta Have a Reason

Nate