Abby Jamison
There he is, sitting outside at the black table with the little green umbrella at our favorite coffee shop, Common Grounds. He is leaning back in the chair, his curly brown hair windblown, his shirt buttoned up only three-fourths of the way, so his chest hair peaks out, and his long legs are crossed. Michael’s eyes are closed, and the sun hits his face so beautifully, magnifying every single one of his perfect features. He is perfect. He has always been perfect, inside, and out.
I walk up, pull out a chair and sit down. I smile the smile I hate, the one where my gums show, but he loves it, so I’ve been learning to hate it less.
“Hi,” I sigh, reaching out and taking his hand that is all too familiar in mine. “I’ve missed you so much.” I sigh, wiping away the single tear that escaped.
“Hello, my love,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand gently. He always calls me that. Never Ruby. Just my love.
“I’ve had such a long day,” I squeeze his hand. “You don’t know how good it feels to see you.”
He nods, “I’ve been here, all day, waiting for you.” He looks at me lovingly, but I catch a flicker of something unfamiliar in his eyes, but I can’t quite place it.
“I’m sorry to I have kept you waiting so long.” With my free hand, I brush my hair behind my ear.
We stare at each other for a long while, neither of us saying a thing. I take all of him in. The freckle in the center of his right cheek, his widow’s peak, the course hair on his arm, the plumpness of his lips that I have kissed so many times before. I could look at him for an eternity.
He clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Are you ready to talk about it?”
I shift in my seat. “Can’t we talk about something else first?”
He gives me a small smile. “You can’t pull that on me this time. I know you too well. You will keep talking and by the time we could talk about it, you will have to go. We can’t keep doing that my love.”
Tears begin to fill my eyes. My throat burning, I choke out, “But I don’t wanna talk about it.”
I break down heaving sobs, my entire body shaking. I feel as if the air has escaped my lungs. I am drowning. I cannot breathe. I may die right here right now. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
“Hey,” he grips my face between his hands and forces me to stare into his pale green eyes. The eyes I want my children to have. Reassuringly he says, “It’s going to be okay.”
“It won’t be. Because we are going to talk, and you are going to leave and then I am never going to see you again and I can’t let that happen. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I need you. You can’t leave me. You can’t make me let you go.” The words spill from my lips and I’m so flustered, I barely know what I’m saying.
He pulls me into him and wraps his arms around me tightly. He smells like cinnamon. I breathe him in, and it calms me. He holds me until my sobs subside and when they do, he pulls away, wipes my damp cheeks, and kisses me on the forehead.
When I look at him, I see tears beginning to form. Shakily, he whispers, “I love you so much. You are the love of my life. You have my entire heart, and it will always be yours. But you can’t keep me here forever. I can’t rest and you won’t find peace if you don’t let me go.” The tears overflow and fall onto his freckled cheeks.
I shake my head, angry that he expects me to do that so easily. “Let you go? How am I supposed to let you go? You’re my husband, the man who was supposed to be the father of my children, the person I was supposed to grow old with. Are you crazy? I can’t just let you go.”
“But you have to,” he says softly. “And I’m sorry, but I won’t give you kids. You won’t watch me grow old. And we won’t have the life we always dreamed of.” He pauses, a sob erupting from his lips. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish things could be different. But, my love,” he heaves a big breath, “I am exhausted. I can feel myself fading away day by day, minute by minute. But I stay here because you need me. But I don’t know how much longer I can hold on, and I’m scared of what will happen to me if I completely disappear. And that is why I am asking you for one last favor. Don’t forget me, but please let me go.”
The way he’s looking at me right now, with those pleading, hurting eyes, makes me want to give in. His soul has always been so kind, so gentle, so giving. I love him and I should not deny him this one last wish. But, because I love him, I cannot. Because once he is gone, he will be gone for good. And I cannot bear the thought of that.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I open my eyes to the grey dull that is reality. The world that lost all its color the moment he died. But in my dreams, there is color again. Life is beautiful once more, even if that life is not real. So, I cannot let him go. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It’s selfish, I know. He deserves to rest, but he must understand that I am the one who must live without him, not the other way around. So, sue me if all I want is a little more time. That really is all I want. Just a little more time.