Thank you for your kind support.
Standard disclaimer.
Warning: Death is contained in this chapter.
I awoke in Sam's arms the next morning, and it just felt right.
Everything felt right.
Making love to him, had been sensual, emotional, and incredible.
If I live to be a thousand years old, I don't think I'll ever forget it.
When my alarm blared, both of us immediately jumped into hurry mode.
We each had an early class and work. Then, Sam had a night out with his coworkers.
He flew out the door, with a kiss and a promise of texting me later. And I immediately missed him.
I thought of nothing else all day long. Yep! I'm definitely bitten by the love bug...and I couldn't be happier.
Just the feel of Sam's skin against mine, and how different my orgasm had felt, than it had, all those other times...as I've said, I couldn't be happier.
I wanted to ask him how his first time had been, but I didn't want to embarrass him, or make him feel juvenile.
All I could go on, was the way his eyes had searched mine and the noises that had tumbled out of his beautiful mouth.
Although I was completely sure, how I felt about him, I hadn't said it that night.
And neither had he.
But maybe, I'd be brave enough to say it sometime soon.
Mrs. Jackson noticed the change in me right away, and I blushed the entire time she asked about Sam.
"You be sure to cherish that boy, you hear me?" I could only nod, but she was serious and so was I.
I planned on cherishing Sam and making him feel loved, every chance I got.
Her vitals were erratic that day, and even, as I encouraged her to eat more from her tray, than just the chicken broth, I squashed down the feeling that another stroke was imminent.
I was exhausted by bedtime and fell straight into my sheets.
Just as I was drifting off, I received a text from Sam.
I knew he was at a local bar with his coworkers, and my heart leapt, at seeing his message flash across the screen.
Sam: How was the rest of your day?
Me: Exhausting. Already in bed.
Sam: Mmm...sleep sounds good. Our night is just getting started.
Me: Okay...well, you can text me on your way home, if you want. Have fun with your friends.
Sam: Alright, I'll let you sleep and bother you tomorrow instead. Good night, baby.
I stared at the screen and tried to read between the lines.
All day long, I had gotten the distinct impression, that Sam was holding himself back.
All of his texts had fallen just short of mushy.
Like he didn't want me to feel smothered, just because he had given himself to me.
Like he didn't want me to run away.
Little did he know, I wasn't about to go anywhere.
And I planned on showing him that...tomorrow.
The following day at work, I stood at the nurses' station, finishing my note on Mrs. Jackson, about how she was flushed and restless all day.
Even her husband had commented on it, just ten minutes ago, just before security buzzed me from the lobby.
"Ms. Jones, there's a package here for you," Robert, the guard said. "It's signed for and sitting on the counter. Come down when you're free."
"Thank you," I muttered.
A package?
Usually, packages for the unit, came filled with medical equipment, but this one sounded personal.
I headed down, curiosity getting the best of me.
When I rounded the corner, I saw it, along with Robert's giant grin.
It was a large bouquet of flowers.
"Someone must be smitten with you, Ms. Jones," Robert said, handing them to me.
My cheeks burned, as I walked my package to a nearby table, in the visitors' section, unable to wait any longer.
The bouquet was a mixture of red, orange, and pink Gerbera daisies.
The colors were striking and lush, and they were easily one of my favorite flowers.
Right away, I noticed that one of the flowers had lost nearly all of its petals...only one clung on for dear life. And there was a note attached to the stem.
I removed the note and carefully unfolded it, noticing Sam's initial at the bottom, right away, before scanning back up to read it.
'M.
Yes, I do. No question about it.'
A smile burst from my lips.
I knew without a doubt, Sam was referring to the 'Forget Me Not' poem, that I'd recited to him, before he gave me my tattoo.
He was telling me in his own way, that he loved me.
My heart leapt straight out of my chest, performed a classic dive-bomb, and ran the half mile back home, to find him.
Below his admission of love, he had written more.
'I hope you feel the same.'
He wanted to know if I loved him, too. And I did. Oh, I did.
'Can I see you tonight?
S.'
'P.S. And as for the other night...there are no words, Mercedes. No words.'
I couldn't contain my grin.
When I realized I was still in the nearly empty lobby, I headed back to my unit to pack up, give my report, and head home.
But before I did, I was going to march straight into Mrs. Jackson's room, to show her, I'd finally got my flowers, and then tease her about showing up Mr. Jackson's bouquet today.
As soon as I stepped through the automatic double doors, I noticed that the front desk was empty.
And then I heard the low hum.
The one that signified a code blue in the unit.
It meant the code blue team, was gathered in the room of a resident, who was experiencing distress.
I'd been through my share of code blues, but this time felt different.
I couldn't get my feet unstuck from the floor.
I gripped the flower vase, so it wouldn't slip through my fingers and crash into a million little shards...like my heart was doing right now.
I knew with every fiber of my being, who the resident having trouble was.
And damn it, she'd waited until I was out of the unit, to leave without saying good-bye.
That thought alone drove me to action.
No way was she going to die while I was off duty.
I hastily placed the flowers on the desk and headed towards her room.
My footsteps were hollow and tinny, against the cold linoleum floor, echoing the beats of my plunging heart.
But, as I neared her door, the code blue team of nurses and doctors were already headed out, heads hanging low.
And I knew she was already gone.
My fingers splayed against the wall, as I tried to keep all the pieces of myself together.
I had never cried for a resident before, outside of my first month, when I was new and green.
But this was no ordinary resident.
She meant something more to me. Much more.
My feet were like lead, as Libby rounded the corner from Mrs. Jackson's room.
"I think this was the big one. Took her immediately. They called time of death already."
I shut my eyes against her words and then felt her cold fingers on my arm.
"I'm so sorry," she said, and patted my arm and left.
I waited until the space had cleared, before I gathered enough courage to step inside.
There were certain procedures that needed to be followed, after a death, and a nurse was left in the room to carry them out.
When I rounded the white curtain to her bed, it felt surreal, to see her so lifeless. So spiritless. So still.
Her eyes were closed, her arms tucked beneath the sheets, already in prep mode.
Her face was free of worry and pain. Almost peaceful. Almost.
I noticed a person slumped in a chair, clutching a bouquet of tulips...Mr. Jackson.
I'd forgotten he was still here.
He must have alerted them to the emergency.
I sat down beside him, in the cream plastic chair, and he took a deep shuddering breath.
At first, I didn't know what to say to him.
What could I possibly articulate, when the woman he had spent his life with, was lying dead before him?
"She loved you fiercely, you know," I said. My voice sounded vacant and small. "She...she was the best kind of person. I'm grateful to have known her."
A sob escaped his lips, and it reverberated in my chest, creating a gaping hole.
"I don't know what I'm going to do without her," he lamented.
The air whooshed right out of me.
Was this the flip side to love?
You created a life with someone...shared your whole heart, your whole soul...and then one day, they left you.
It was a harsh and brutal kind of reality.
And I wasn't convinced it was worth it, to open yourself up to someone, only to be left with a cavernous wound.
Mr. Jackson cleared his throat and looked at his wife.
His eyes were red, his brown skin splotchy, but his voice was strong.
"But, I wouldn't take back one day of our forty years together. Not one damn day. Do you hear me, Louise?"
He was no longer talking to me, and I was glued to my seat, entranced by his words.
"You made my life worth living. You made it matter. You made it infinitely better."
His voice cracked on those last words, and he tucked his head into his hand.
I waited next to him, as he sobbed into his fingers and then wiped his cheeks with a Kleenex.
The nurse cleared the room, allowing for privacy and patted my shoulder on her way out.
Mr. Jackson stood up and inched towards his wife.
Placing the tulips on the pillow above her, he kissed her forehead.
"I know I'll see you again. I have to believe that. God wouldn't be that cruel, to take you from me, without the hope of our reunion."
I pinched my eyes closed, as a tear escaped.
I already knew what it felt like to be without Sam, but that paled in comparison to what Mr. Jackson was going through.
And now I'd be without Mrs. Jackson, too.
Coming to work would be difficult for a long damn time, like having a cloud hovering over my head, raining sadness over me.
But I could hear her voice in my head, urging me to move on, to live my life, to stop being so damn sad.
Just then, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson's children burst into the room and gathered around their father.
Tears and hugs, grief and love.
All combined in a circle of limbs and heads and hearts.
I bawled during this chapter. It took me back to that day, March 30th, 2017, when the hospital called me, to see my mother for the last.
By the time I got there, she was gone. Just the day before, she was up and walking about, and on hearing she wasn't doing well, shattered my world.
Cherish your loved ones as well as yourselves.
Stay safe, stay home, stay blessed.