And that was how we came to be here. Sitting in this hospital hallway in scrubs with masks slung around our necks watching Warren in his room. Seeing his chest rise and fall. Hearing the rhythmic beep of the machines. Possibly the most comforting thing I'd heard since we arrived – the platitudes of the doctors meant nothing to me. The periodic sound meant he was still alive.
I'd been confused to be summoned to his bedside. After all, wasn't that what relatives were for? But his mother had died some years ago, his father was still in prison and Warren had no one else in the world. He'd put me down as the person to call when he was dying. I was touched and desperate all at the same time. What do you say to someone who's dying who you haven't seen in thirteen years? But I needn't have worried. I wasn't allowed in. I could just watch through a window as doctors and nurses surrounded him in his final moments.
He had lain very still until just at that moment. As I stared into the window, my hands wrapped around that polystyrene cup I saw his arm twitch and his lips mouth something at one of the doctors. The doctor seemed to protest but Warren had insisted, despite his weakened state.
The doctor came to the intercom.
'Mrs. Stronghold? Against our advice Warren would like to see you. You will need to scrub up over there -,' he pointed to the sink inside the biological hazard doors, 'before coming in.'
I was surprised at being allowed in but saddened at the same time. It meant he was almost gone. Hurriedly I did as he said and once I was cleansed satisfactorily I was allowed in to see him. All of the medical staff left and stood in the gap between the two doors to give us some privacy.
I was almost shocked by his appearance. From the window we hadn't been able to see much and one person or another has obscured his face since our arrival. He was so pale and this was reinforced by the dark shock of hair surrounding his face. He'd refused chemotherapy, which was why he still had hair at all. He seemed so small under the blankets, not the Warren I had bid goodbye all those years ago.
'Hey,' I said softly, my voice shaking with emotion.
'Hi,' he croaked out. His voice was so quiet and I could tell it hurt him to speak.
I took his hand in mine and cradled it.
'Layla,' he said, struggling.
'Yes?' I said, leaning closely to hear.
'Before I die, there's something you need to know.'
'What?' I asked.
'You should know that wherever I was, whomever I was with, I always loved you. I knew you loved Will and that's why I went so far. I couldn't be near you. I had to tell you though.'
Silent tears streamed down my cheeks at his admission of love.
'I loved you too,' I whispered, my voice clogged with tears.
His hand struggled in my own as he loosened it from my grasp and amazingly from his finger came a little puff of smoke that produced a single, tiny fire butterfly that settled on my hand.
'Goodbye Layla,' he said softly and his hand went slack and his eyes closed.
The beeping stopped.