My Hero
And I never saw blue
like that before
Across the sky, around the world
You've given
me all you have and more
I burst into laughter as Mark dangles a cattail (the plant kind) over Maureen's head as she lies at his feet in front of the couch. She giggles and bats at it with her hands. Occasionally, when Maureen is drunk she thinks she's a cat. We bought her a cat suit a few years back and now she wears it at least once a year on random holidays. This year, she decided on today; Valentine's Day.
After a while, she manages to knock the plant out of Mark's hand and, giggling louder, crawls up onto the couch and snuggles next to him. "Pookie, don't take this the wrong way.."
"What, Mo?" He plays with her hair, a little tipsy himself.
She pulls back slightly and grabs his arm. "You're skinny."
For a moment, Mark's eyes lock with mine and I remember the promise I made last week. "Maureen, Mark's always been skinny." I add a small laugh, hoping she'll change the subject. Mark doesn't want her to know.
"No, I mean he's too skinny! And pale! Marky, are you feeling okay?" Through the drunken haze in her eyes, I see some genuine concern.
"Mo, I've always looked like this. You're just drunk."
"I am!" She smiles proudly. For some reason, when a person is inebriated, they feel like it's a great accomplishment.
I look toward the door as I hear it slide open. Joanne walks in, briefcase still in hand. She nods a 'hello' to me. Then she takes one look at Maureen, slumps her shoulders, and groans. "Oh, honeybear..."
Maureen finally looks up from fawning over Mark to greet her lover. "Pookie!" She clomps over and hangs from Joanne's neck, not quite able to stand in one place on her own. "Pookie, tell Marky he's too skinny."
"Mark, you're too skinny." She says quickly, and sends us an apoligetic look. We told her yesterday. Mark wanted to get his affairs in order. God, I fucking hate that phrase.
"See?!" Maureen points at Mark and smiles, apparently victorious.
"Okay, honey, time to go home." Joanne leads her toward the door and, after a brief show of reluctance on Maureen's part, they say some quick goodbyes (Maureen's consisting of asking what exactly she drank tonight) and head home, leaving myself and Mark alone in the loft.
I sigh and begin picking up empty bottles. "Well, that was close."
"Yeah...she's a bit more observant than we give her credit for."
"So why aren't you in the hospital?" I call back from the kitchen.
"Roger, we've been over this." He answers with a calmness I can't even fathom right now. "You saw the x-ray."
Damn right, I did. The tumors have already covered his stomach and lungs. I'm not too proud to admit the moment I saw it, I ran to the bathroom and vomited. Even just thinking about it now, I can still taste bile in my mouth.
"And you're point is?" I already know, and it makes perfect sense, but...
"Rog, I don't want to die in a hospital bed." The doctors gave him a few months at the most, even with treatment.
I start washing out glasses, trying my best to still sound casual. "How can you say that?" 'Die'. Like it's the most weightless, unloaded word. You'd think it was just another word the way he says it.
"Well, everyone dies, Roger." He's still so calm...so fucking calm.
"This isn't supposed to happen..." I grip the edge of the sink, soapy water slowly rising to the brim. Everything feels wrong.
"What is supposed to happen, Roger?"
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO FUCKING LIVE FOREVER!" The words come out with such force my body hunches over the sink. I'm not sure if they're really echoing or if it's just my imagination. But as soon as they leave my mouth, I realize how naive they are, how childish, how stupid...and how much I really did believe them.
Suddenly feeling weak, I slide down to the floor, still gripping the sink, and hide my face in my arms. My breath comes in short hiccups, but there are no tears. If I cry again, it's real. I try to steady my breathing as the water starts flowing down my arms onto my hair and shoulders. I've almost forgotten Mark's presence until I feel his arms around me.
"I'm sorry, but..." I feel his arms tighten around me as he finishes softly "this is the way it has to be."
"...are you scared?"
"Petrified," he answers without missing a beat.
"Me, too." I sob. For some reason, knowing we're both afraid makes this so much more bearable.
I feel a tear run down my face. I can't hide from it anymore. Despite myself, I feel a smile pulling at my lips. I turn around to face him and he laughs as eight words come out of my mouth and immediately break the tension.
"So, what do you want to do tomorrow?"
