Drabble 27: Letters.
"Nat…" His heart thumps in his ears, throat thick, "What's that?"
"Nothing." She pales (somehow even moreso than usual), dropping the notepad to the ground. Henry swallows, walking over to pick it up, "Henry, p-please don't read-"
It's too late.
"…N-Nat." His vision blurs and he curses the goddamn tears because not in front of her, God, don't cry in front of her.
"Henry…" Her voice is weak, broken, "Don't get angry, okay? I… when else am I supposed to do these?" She tugs on the notepad gently and he releases it, leaving her to find her pen and continue writing, "You know… you weren't supposed to see these, yet. You're supposed to wait. Til, um. After." She chews the pen, strangely calm.
"Don't say that." He balls his fists, looking away from her black and blue eyes, the hospital gown, the cot she's been assigned not to leave. He does his best to drown out the heart monitor, the distant chatter of nurses. "Don't fucking say that, Natalie. I promised you that you're going to be okay, and I never break promises, remember?" He toys with her hair, forcing a smile.
"I know. All promises break eventually, though." She sighs, lacing their fingers together. "It's okay. I'm just worried about Mels. She's a big girl, now, though. She…" Natalie pauses, "She doesn't need her mom, anymore."
"Natalie, I don't… do you hear yourself?"
"I grew up without a mom just fine." She shrugs as if no big deal, idly playing with his fingers.
"Natalie."
"You're going to have to remember all of her allergies, go to PTA meetings, drive her to ballet every Saturday. Oh, usually I hide her vitamins in candy; that's the only way she'll take them. Her favorite classical piece is Beethoven's 5th, but she always forgets which number it-"
"Natalie!"
"What?" She blinks, "You have to know this stuff, Henry. It's not like I'm coming back home."
He can't help it, now. Henry collapses onto his knees and cries into her lap. She's finally given up. She's okay with dying. She's going to leave them and there's nothing he can do. Natalie just lets him cry, stroking his hair.
"It's okay, Henry. I'm okay with it." She whispers, sounding pathetic, defeated.
"What about me?" For the first time, he's brave enough to voice it, "W-what am I supposed to do without you?"
"You did fine for seventeen years. Plus, you have Melody; she's more than enough company." She gives a breathy laugh, "I left some… encouragement in these letters, anyways." Nat gestures to the notepad.
"I love you." He hasn't stopped crying, "I'm always going to love you."
"I know." It's so quiet, he barely hears it, "I love you, too."
From then on, he spends every night she has left with her, holding her in the cramped cot as she sleeps with terrifyingly shallow breathing.
It's only then that it hits him.
They're not going to be okay.