The Dance (67 page)

That night I stayed awake to see if it was true. Around 11 p.m., I thought I heard the quiet creak of the door. Peeking out from underneath my blanket, I saw him. Hart had the door opened halfway as he stared at me, making sure I was okay, and then left. Just like Will said.

Loss of Appetite

“Stop treating me like a fucking baby!”

“If you’d stop acting like one then I would. Just eat a couple of spoonfuls. You love butterscotch,” I said, holding the spoon of pudding to his mouth.

Will turned his head away, refusing to take even one bite. “Give the dying man a break! I don’t want any.”

“Will, the only thing you’ve had in the past two days is half of a turkey sandwich and a cup of coffee. You have to eat.”

Turning, he glared at me. “Why?”

“They’ll stick a feeding tube in you if you don’t start eating.”

“Bryson, stop it! I don’t feel like eating and there’s not going to be a feeding tube.”

Tears pricked behind my eyes. I knew he was right. Food had always been my way of showing people how much I cared. Will’s eating had begun slowing down when he was admitted to the hospital for pneumonia. But at least he was still eating. Over the last two days his appetite had been a no show.

Sinking the spoon back into the bowl of pudding, I placed it on the nightstand. I walked to the large picture window. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stared out at the small duck pond. A few ducks were scattered in and around the water as a white egret took off into the sky.

It’s hard to describe how the mind works when you watch a person go through the dying process, especially someone you care about. I’ve witnessed firsthand the weight loss, the lesions, the coughing, the blood, the frailty, and weakness. I know Will’s death will come sooner rather than later. But there’s a small corner of my brain that believes if he could just hang on a little longer they’d find a cure.

“Hart got it in his head that if he could keep her strong, she’d last long enough until they found a cure.”

Colin’s words echoed in my head. I’d been so focused on Will’s peace of mind I’d pushed mine to the side. By the time a cure was found, if a cure was found, Will wouldn’t be here to reap the benefits. And no amount of pudding was going to change that fact.

Weakness and Fatigue

By the time we entered into week two, Will was too weak to get out of bed. He spent most of the day in a deep sleep. When he was awake he remained groggy for the most part. There were moments of lucidity but they were few and far between. No longer able to control his body or bodily functions, he started wearing adult diapers and the nurses were taking care of all of his needs.

Repositioning the recliner closer to the bedside, I turned it to face Will. Late one afternoon while Will was sleeping, I sat watching him. No thoughts of the past, present, or future were in my head. I just quietly concentrated on Will.

The sunlight shining through the window cast a warm glow over his pale skin. His dark hair was thin and brittle with a hint of gray. It looked like someone had taken their thumbs and pushed his eyes farther into his head. His cheeks were nonexistent, the bones merely there to give the skin something to hang on. The once chiseled jawline was so frail the slightest touch seemed like it would have caused it to shatter. And the mountain of blankets swallowed up his skeletal frame making it look even smaller.

This Will looked nothing like the old Will. The new Will was humble, honest, remorseful, apologetic, and kind. Maybe I hadn’t been completely fooled by his act all those years after all. That somehow I saw glimpses of this new Will inside the old one. The Will who appreciated me and thought I deserved the best. The Will who supported my dreams of culinary school. The Will who, in his own way, did love me.

Clearing his throat, Will began. “I, Will . . . I mean, William, take you, Bryson, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

The love and sincerity in his voice was overwhelming, causing my eyes to fill with tears.

I swallowed hard and tried to hold down the emotions that kept trying to bubble to the surface. “I, Bryson, take you, William, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

And in the end the new Bryson was able to let the new Will know he wouldn’t be alone all the days of his life.

Confusion

“Ooohhh . . .”

I startled awake at the sound of a loud long moan. I looked over to find Will on his back, thrashing his head back and forth. I jumped off the sofa and ran to his bedside.

Sitting, I placed my hand in the middle of his chest, rubbing slow small circles, and said calmly, “Will, it’s okay. I’m here. Try to relax.” I paused, hoping my words and touch penetrated his fog of confusion. “Remember how much you loved playing football? You were such an awesome player.” The thrashing slowly subsided as I continued to rub Will’s chest. “Even I knew how good you were and I’m clueless about all of that stuff. Our first date was at one of your games.”

“Homecoming.” The faint hint of the word swirled in the air for a split second before vanishing.

I thought my mind and ears were playing tricks on me as I looked down at Will.

With his head turned toward me and his eyes closed, Will whispered, “First official date.”

A lump formed in my throat. “You’re right. I always considered the game you asked me to come to as our first date.”

Placing his hand over mine, Will stopped the slow circles. And just like that he was back. Gently, I lowered down on the bed next to Will, our hands still joined together on his chest.

“You had to bribe Sophie to go with me because I wasn’t going to go by myself. She never did tell me what you offered her.”

“Fifty bucks.” I could barely hear him.

“Wow, I had no idea I was worth that much.”

“Priceless.” He sighed.

Tears pooled in my eyes as I whispered into Will’s ear, “Thank you.”

Will’s eyes opened halfway, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling. Raising his anorexic hand off mine, he pointed in the air at no particular thing.

“I need my uniform cleaned. What time is the game tonight?” He mumbled.

With tears trickling down my face, I kept my voice steady and answered. “It’s at seven o’clock. They always start at seven o’clock.”

And just like that he was gone.

Goodbye

The stillness in the air was overwhelming and uncomfortable. I shifted in the recliner from side to side while mindlessly flipping through a cooking magazine in the dimly lit room.

“Bryson.” Will’s voice was barely above a whisper.

The past two days Will had been in and out of consciousness. Most of the time he was so out of it, mumbling incoherently and then drifting back to sleep. But on rare occasions the old Will would show back up.

I closed the magazine and leaned forward. “Hey, sleepy head. I had no idea I was so boring.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up like he was trying to smile.

Will’s body had wasted away to almost nothing. There wasn’t a bone on him that wasn’t protruding through his pale sallow skin. More Kaposi lesions had developed, an especially large one had invaded his right eye, causing complete loss of vision.

“Have I thanked you today?”

“You sure have.”

“Tell me about your day.” He strained to get the words out.

The truth was my day could be summed up in a word. Sitting. But Will liked to hear what was going on outside of these walls so I started making up things based on actual events that had happened. Just not recently.

Smoothing out his top sheet, I said, “I got up and out early. I had to go to the grocery store before I came here. When I was taking the groceries out of the car, Mrs. Ravenel came over wanting to know where I’d been since she hadn’t seen me lately.”

“Nosy old broad.” Will joked.

“Pretty much.”

“What else?”

“Oh, I got response letters from both Johnson and Wales and The Art Institute about my application.”

I’d actually received the letters the week before Will was admitted to hospice.

“Don’t leave me hanging.”

“I got accepted to both culinary programs.”

“Never doubted it for a second.” The loud wheeze escaped him as he inhaled a shallow breath. “Bryson, promise me . . .” Another loud wheeze choked him.

My entire body seized up as tears spilled over and down my face.

Will forced his lids up and aimed his gaze directly at me. “. . . You’ll go get your happily ever after. You deserve it.”

Placing my hand over Will’s heart, his chest stilled as life slipped from his dark brown eyes.

“I promise,” I whispered between sobs.

I don’t know how long I stayed in that position before feeling the light touch of a hand on my shoulder.

“Mrs. Forsyth, do you need anything?” I don’t even remember alerting the nurse that Will was gone.

I swept my hands over my face, wiping away the tears. Standing, I looked at the pretty redhead with the sympathetic green eyes. I shook my head and without a word walked out of the room.

With my gaze focused on the floor in front of me, I made my way down the hallways. Each turn brought my mind, body, and spirit to numbing exhaustion. As I rounded the last corner, my gaze drifted up to a pair of blue-gray eyes.