The car eased into the short driveway and stopped in front of the garage. White knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel and the driver closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as if in pain. If a neighbor had stepped out and looked at him, they probably would have come over to knock on the window and ask if he was alright. If he needed anything. Not Jim from next door, though. Fucker.
The man sighed to brace himself, took off the keys and opened the car door, grabbed the gym bag from the passenger seat and climbed out of the car. The walk to his front door seemed longer every day. He sighed one last time before he put on a beaming smile and let himself into the house.
"I'm home!" He put his bag down on its usual spot next to the front door. Then he remembered that he had to do his laundry himself, picked it back up and carried it to the laundry room to put it on top of the washing machine, only to forget about it later.
"Negan?" He heard a muffled voice from the second floor and he quickly raced up the stairs, taking his usual two steps at a time. The bedroom was dark and stuffy and smelled like disinfectant and her perfume.
"Hey," he said quietly and carefully sat down on his side of the bed, "How was your appointment?"
She turned to lie on her side and looked up at him with eyes that were having a hard time focusing.
"I told them about the port itching like crazy, but they said it could take a couple more days for it to fully heal."
His eyes automatically wandered to her chest, where a visible bump, the size and shape of a quarter was sitting under her skin, just underneath her right collarbone.
"Did you drink enough today? Remember Doctor Parker said he'd chew my ass out if I didn't remind you to hydrate. Don't need a repeat of last week."
"I'm fine. Don't worry. I didn't even puke today. Looks like they finally found a medication that works for me."
"That's great," he smiled and moved to lie next to her. He shifted his arm to put it carefully underneath her head and she settled against his chest, sighing contently.
"How was school?" she mumbled into his shirt.
"Mike Jenkins got hit in the fucking face by a medicine ball."
"Oh shit. Anything broken?"
"Nurse said no. But I told his mom to go to the hospital for an x-ray to make sure. You should have seen the fucking fountain of blood coming out of that nose." Negan balled his free hand to a fist, brought it up to his nose and spread his fingers to demonstrate the boy's injury. He added some gushing noises for good measure. She chuckled, which made him exceptionally happy.
"Was she angry? Carry Jenkins?"
"Nah. She knows the little shit is clumsy as fuck."
"Funny how the single moms are usually the cool ones."
"Hmm," he grunted. He had a bad feeling about where the conversation was going.
"Marla called again." -there it was- "I didn't pick up. Too tired. But you should call her, Negan."
"No."
"She deserves that you at least talk to her."
"I said no. It's over Lucille. I chose you."
"But I won't be there for much longer."
The bed creaked underneath him as he sat up and swung his legs over its side to sit on the edge and bury his head in his hands. He felt movement behind him and then next to him and an arm tried to snake around his back. Negan pulled her close and buried his nose in her hair. He had always loved her hair. The smell and the way it felt. It was so thin now that he could clearly see her scalp.
"Who is going to take care of you when I'm gone?"
"I can take care of my-fucking-self, Lu. And I told you I don't want to hear this shit anymore. You're gonna fight this. We're gonna fight this. That fucker in your brain won't know what fucking hit it once we're fucking done."
He couldn't see her face, but he knew that she was smiling. He stroked over her hair for a while, but stopped and grimaced when he noticed a strand wrapped loosely around his fingers.
"You scared? Scared of dying?"
She kept quiet and he held his breath, hoping she'd give the right answer. Then he finally felt her nodding.
"You fucking should be. Imagine how fucking boring the afterlife is going to be without me there."
She chuckled and the sob that had been sitting in his throat ever since he had parked his car was swallowed once more. He disentangled himself from her and stood before it could sneak its way back up.
"I'm gonna go get us something to eat. Do you think you can keep anything down today?"
"Yeah, I think I can try. Could you get us tacos? Something without dairy for me?"
That would be a forty minute round trip.
"Fuck yeah! Tacos sound awesome. We could watch that movie you wanted to see. What was it called? Harry Poophead?"
"Harry Potter!" She laughed and threw a pillow at him.
He chuckled at her poor aim and walked to the door. Before, he closed it, he turned around again, one hand on the door knob, the other on the door frame.
"I fucking love you Lucille."
"I fucking love you, too, Negan."
He walked down the stairs, took his keys and got in the car.
If a neighbor had stepped out and looked at him, they probably would have come over to knock on the window and ask if he was alright. If he needed anything. Or maybe not. Seeing the giant gym teacher shaking with heaving sobs in the privacy of his own car was a disturbing sight. But not a rare one.