These Days
week three
Now we're into the third week, and this is when things start to get hard. This afternoon, Rita starts crying to me, and it is the first time I've seen tears in those bright eyes. I think that maybe it's because it's the third week, and that means that we are quickly approaching the end of the doctor's prediction. She tells me in pieces of sentences about the wall by her bed in the boarding house, and how she's scratched out a tally mark every morning with her fingernails. I look down and see them, they are raw and broken.
I don't know what to say and so I put a hand around her shoulders awkwardly and hug her close, hoping that this is comfort in some way. I hold her like this until she quiets down a little and rubs at her eyes, then looks at me apologetically.
"I'm sorry," she says, sniffling. "I'm so, so sorry."
I'm still holding her. She has made no sign of wanting to move away.
"Why?" I ask finally.
She doesn't answer for a long time, and when she does, I can barely hear her.
"I'm sorry," she says again.
---
For some reason, I think that she will forget about it, that she will be happy just like last week. But she doesn't. It's early afternoon and we're sitting on a bench in the park. She seems fine, but then she gets this faraway look in her eyes and I see the sadness there once more.
"I'm so scared," she tells the sky, then turns to me and grabs my hands tightly. "God, Specs, I'm so afraid."
So I gather her into my arms just like before.
"Shh… shh… you have nothing to worry about," I say, although now she has me thinking and I realize that I have a little fear as well.
"I'm so scared," she sobs into my shoulder. "I'm just so scared."
---
And later that night, much later, after Snoddy has come back from his time at Rita's, he talks to me about it… just like I knew he would. He's usually happy and tired when he gets back from there, and playful, smug. But tonight he's jealous. He doesn't come right out and say it, but I can tell from the tone of his voice.
"How'd the park go?" He asks me when everyone is either sleeping or at least in bed. "Good day?"
"It was alright," I say with a shrug. "She was a little sad."
"I've already talked to her," Snoddy interrupts. "And what about you? One of the boys told me you two were getting a little close."
I frown up at him. "Like I said," I say. "She was sad."
"Oh? Sad, huh? Sad enough not to resist when ya kissed her, right?"
"I didn't kiss her, Snoddy." I try my best to remain calm. "What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" He begins to get a little upset. "What about you! I give you my best girl in my greatest time of need and her greatest time of need, and I give her to you to keep safe, and look at how you treat her! Look at how you treat me!"
"Look at yourself!" My own voice raises against my control. "You call her your best girl and you say you love her, but look what you put before her! She's dying, Snoddy, and, yes, I said it. She's not going to be around much longer and instead of spending time with her you dump her on a friend like she's a problem and avoid her as much as possible! What are you doing!?"
For a long time he can only stare at me, his fists clenched and face flushed with anger. I know he wants to hit me, but he won't, not in the Lodging House, where we'll both be kicked out for the night for any sort of violence. He wants to hit me so badly not just because he's mad about what I said, but also because he knows that my accusations are true. He doesn't want to believe them, not one bit.
"I love her," he says through gritted teeth. "Don't you dare say any other way."
"But how much?" I ask him desperately, my voice back down low. "She looks up to you like she would any god. She wants to die with you, Snoddy. Near you. She just wants to be with you."
He looked at the floor.
"Why won't you give her even that?" I ask softly.
Snoddy walks away. My hands tingle a little, I can still feel her safe under them. My head rings with her worries, and as I watch him go, in this third week, I have only anger.
---
The next day I meet up with Rita again and Snoddy is nowhere in sight. I don't tell her about our talk, but I think she can sense something from my own quiet, brooding manner, so she says little. She sighs sadly and grabs my hand, and I make no effort to shake her off no matter what Snoddy may end up thinking. She needs comfort, she needs security. Her hand feels cold and thin in mine. She shivers in the sunlight and at last I begin to realize just how little time she really has left.