“What’s this?” I turned the envelope over, but there wasn’t any writing on it other than Quinn’s name.
“It’s for Quinn.” His voice was strained. “I want you to give this to her ... the day you marry her.”
“Nate—” I began, but he cut me off.
“I’m too tired to argue with you, Leo. Take it. I promise, it’s nothing bad. It’s ... my way of giving you both my blessing, okay? Call it me trying to be part of your day, if you want. I can’t talk to her about this, not now. But I want her to know ... that it’s okay. That I want you to be together.” He attempted a smile. “And humor me. In the front row that day, leave one chair empty. Remember me when you look at it. Somehow, I’ll be there.”
The silence that stretched between us was heavy and deep. Nate exhaled and tucked his hand back under the cover. He seemed somehow even smaller now, as though he had shrunk a little during our time together.
“I should let you rest now. I don’t want to wear you out.” It sounded ludicrous coming out of my mouth that simply lying there talking had tired him, but it was the truth. His skin was almost translucent, and it struck me anew how thin he was.
“Yeah, crazy, isn’t it? Sometimes I need a nap after interacting with anyone. After the nurse stops by, I sleep for three or four hours.” He yawned enormously, as though the power of suggestion had pushed him over the edge.
“I’ll go now.” But I didn’t move yet. “I’d rather not run into Quinn. I have a feeling she’d get good and pissy that the two of us were talking about her behind her back.”
He grimaced. “Yeah, some things don’t change.”
I dug my car keys out of my pocket and slid the keyring over my finger. “Is it ... what’s it like? Being married to Quinn?” I’d long ago established that I was a glutton for punishment. Asking this question was downright masochistic.
Nate’s eyes drifted to half-mast. “It’s ... perfect.” His voice had dropped, and his words slurred a little in sleepiness. “It’s what I always wanted.” He managed to focus on me briefly. “But ... not like it would be with you. What Quinn is to me ... it’s not like what you’ll have. ‘Sokay, though. It’s okay. It’s enough, you know? For someone like me, it’s enough.”
My throat closed. Looking down at my friend, I had the overwhelming sense that I wasn’t going to see him again, and it dawned on me what kind of gift Nate had given me today. He’d sacrificed precious time and energy, first to convince me to come up and then to give me advice that I knew couldn’t have been easy to share. Everything he’d suggested had to do with how we would live our lives after his was over.
“Uh, Nate ...” I cleared my throat. “Thanks. For this, I mean. For today. For everything.”
His lips curled up into a slight smile. “You’re welcome, Leo.”
“I know I haven’t been a very good friend. I’m sorry, Nate. I wish ... I wish things could’ve been different for us. I wish—” I choked. “I wish you didn’t have to die.”
He adjusted his head a little. “I know. Sucks, but ...” He blinked, the movement so slow that I wasn’t sure his eyes would open again. “I got everything I ever wanted, in the end. And no matter what you think, I had the best friends in the world.” His smile grew brighter momentarily before it began to fade. “Don’t think I’ll prob’ly see you again. Take care of our girl, ‘kay?”
“Always.” I coughed and swiped at my eyes. “Always will. For both of us, all right?”
“Yeah.” Nate sighed and his chin sagged a little as he fell asleep. “Bye, Leo.”
I stood in the living room near him as the afternoon’s light began to fade.
“Good-bye, Nate.”
