Happiness Damn Near Destroys You
I know, I know. It's been a whole month. I've been going through a lot with school and the holidays, but I truly am sorry. If anyone still cares about this story I appreciate you :)
mttmercado: I'm sure Rex is still around, I haven't actually had the time to watch much! But thank you :)
CatlovesBB: You're so nice :) I hope you're still reading!
Guest: Haha thanks!
Disclaimer: No ownership here.
Thanksgiving starts off easily enough, waking up with Robbie right next to me. He's asleep and shivering, even though he stole the blankets away from me sometime during the night. He turns onto his other side, exposing the left side of his neck. There are bruises there that he was telling me about, from the Chemo, although this is the first time I've actually seen them. I turn quickly and go get all the blankets I have, piling them on Rob until he quits shaking so violently. After that, his frightened expression smooths out into an almost childlike one and I have to leave the room before I start crying and waking Robbie.
I immediately go to the bathroom and look in the mirror, seeing my obvious sex hair from last night that makes me smile slightly. That is, until I remember what I just saw on my boyfriend's neck. I quickly get in the shower and wait until I've washed my hair and body, then I allow myself to cry. Pathetically, I sit on the shower floor and rock back and forth with my face in my hands. As always, I ask myself why this is happening to him and not someone else? I look on my bicep and see a bruise of my own there, but this one is a good one derived from pleasure, not cancer treatment.
The hot water comforts me as I lay down in the fetal position on the small shower floor, whimpering slightly. I'm in there so long that the water goes cold, but I honestly don't notice. I don't notice much of anything except the questions that will never be answered pounding through my mind. That being said, I don't hear Robbie yell my name and I don't hear him come in the bathroom. When I finally notice it's because he yanks back the shower curtain and says, "Oh my God, Beck, what's wrong?"
He turns off the water and exclaims, "The water's freezing!" I manage to move my neck to look at him and it makes me want to cry all over again because this awful Leukemia has taken its toll on him. Robbie has bruises all over him and his hair is completely gone, he's constantly got a runny nose and a cough. He sniffles and grabs a towel, handing it to me.
I sit up, avoiding eye contact. Slowly, I stand and wrap the towel around me and step out of the tub and walk straight out of the bathroom. I can't look at him, because I'm sure I'll only find disappointment in those brown eyes. Tears are collecting in my eyes once again and I feel like a damn fool for not keeping it together like I keep saying I will. How am I supposed to keep Robbie from falling apart when I can't even keep myself in check?
I only make it a couple of steps out of the bathroom before I hear Robbie's distressed voice saying, "You can't just walk away like that, Beck." I turn to him, taking my time. Again, I'm avoiding eye contact as much as possible as a couple tears slip past my closed lids. "Hey," he says gently, tilting my head up with his finger, "Why won't you look at me?"
"Because I don't want to see you disappointed." I mutter, then turn away from him once more. This time, Robbie moves in front of me before I can walk away. He folds his arms over his chest and exhales sharply, which tells me that he's frustrated. After a few seconds, he moves his hands to my shoulders and at first I think he's going shake me, but he doesn't. He stares at me; I can feel his burning gaze even though I'm looking away. I look at him and this time, I stare straight into his eyes.
I only last a few moments before bursting into sobs, going limp into Robbie's arms. We stand there for a couple minutes until he coaxes me into getting dressed, but it's really hard to leave his comforting hold. I just put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, since it's just going to be my parents, Robbie, and I at Thanksgiving dinner tonight. When I'm done we lay down and I rest my head on his chest comfortably, still hiccuping from crying so hard.
"Now," Robbie says when I calm down, "tell me what's going on, babe. Why on Earth would I be disappointed in you?"
"I'm supposed to be the strong one and you saw me break down," I murmur weakly, ironically.
"Beck, just because I have cancer doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. You're allowed to cry sometimes, okay?"
"Okay. I just get so scared that...What if you..." I falter, tears brimming my eyes and Robbie's.
"Me, too." He admits. "I've found out that you can't let that fear consume you, though. We just have to enjoy the time we have together while I'm still here and make the best of it."
I moan, "But I don't want it to be like that! Why should we have to do that when we're supposed to have our whole lives together, Robbie? It's not fair! It's not fair!"
"Hey, hey, shhh," he says, cuddling me closer. "We don't know what's going to happen, I'm just saying we have to be prepared, okay?"
"O-Okay."
We lay there for the longest time wrapped up in each other as we kiss, talk, and just comfort each other. At one point, Robbie's running his hand through my hair. It feels nice and relaxing, until he whispers, "Having hair must be nice." He's not saying it rudely or sarcastically; in fact, I don't even know if I was meant to hear it at all. Nevertheless, it makes my stomach drop and my heart fill with guilt. I decide not to mention it, though, at least not right now.
Three hours later, we're sitting in my parent's lush dining room with a turkey in front of us. Robbie and I watch Dad, who is finishing carving the bird. My mom is running around the kitchen finishing the sides, even though it's just us four so it's really nothing to make a big deal about. Mom likes fussing over me when she can, however, since I'm pretty independent nowadays. Ever since my boss cut back my hours at work, I haven't been making as much money as I need to save for college and pay for food, but I've been managing. I chose not to think about that now, because today is a day to be grateful for what I have, not worry about it.
I notice that Robbie is quiet, so I ask what's wrong. He shakes his head and says, "Nothing...Feeling kind of sick." I can tell he wants me to forget it, but he knows me better than that.
"Hey, Dad, Robbie's not feeling too–" I begin to say, but I'm cut off by Robbie vomiting.
Dad and I are at his side in an instant, asking if he's alright. Then, I look at the ground and shout, "Dad, call 911!"
Robbie vomited blood.
Review, por favor? Lolz I knowz spanish