Oscar Stone doesn’t cry, but I swear I see tears in his eyes. “Ruby, that’s…”
“Crazy? Insane? Incredibly unlikely? Inexplicable? Those were the words the doctor used. He couldn’t explain it, not that I was asking for an explanation. He kept asking me if I was sure I hadn’t had some form of treatment. Like a round of radiation or chemo could slip my mind.” I grin.
“I wish your mum—”
I shake my head. “Don’t say it. She made the decision she needed to make. If a hundred people with the same diagnosis I had did the same thing I did, I don’t know how many, if any, would still be alive.”
That will always be the hardest part for me to explain. I had terminal cancer. Surviving it, no matter the means, is a miracle. Over eighty-five percent of the world’s population believes in a higher power, yet very few people believe in miracles. It makes no sense.
“For me, it worked. Today it became my truth. I’m not going to write a book about my story, or make any miraculous claims that I’ve figured out the cure for cancer.”
He throws the book aside. “Well, you could. You’re a genius.”
I laugh and like always, it quickly fades. I’m existing. I haven’t had a single suicidal thought since being in Lexington with Theo, but what I’m doing is far from truly living and that’s okay. Visiting the cancer wing of a hospital and sitting in the waiting room of the oncologist’s office has given me some much needed perspective.
Not every day is a parade with fireworks, but every breath counts. Life is incredibly fucking hard, rarely fair, and always unpredictable. Most days, surviving is as good as it gets. Today I watched a healthy little girl sitting next to her mum, with a lovely pink scarf wrapped around her head, give her doll to another little girl sitting across from me, with no hair and a portable oxygen pack on her back. I shall nevereverforget the smile on her face.
Love. It’s why we are here.
*
Spring.
I’m ready to put away my jumpers and dig out my flip-flops. Oscar took off two weeks ago for an epic “bucket list” road trip. I asked if he’s dying, and he winked at me. I know the answer.“We’re all dying, Ruby.”
As soon as I’m within a block of my flat, the skies open up. Yep, it’s definitely spring. I sprint—OK, a slow jog with my ankle—then I put on the brakes just enough so I don’t slip on the stairs leading to my flat. Once I reach the top, where I’m protected by the roof, I shake the water from my hair like a dog and glance up while pulling the key from my handbag.
I halt. Every part of my body, including my breath, just… stops.
I’ve had dreams like this—too many to count. This one is much more vivid than any of the other dreams.
“Hi.” His voice is not echoed like it’s been before in my other dreams. His golden blond hair is longer, not quite long enough to pull back into a ponytail but close. The beard. It’s longer too. Shorter than it was when we met but longer than it was… in my last dream. Because… this has to be a dream.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
“Mind if I come inside?” He nods toward my door, a small smile spreading across his beautiful face.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
“Hi,” I whisper.
Thunder rumbles, vibrating the floor beneath us.
Theo’s smile grows a bit more. “Is this still your apartment?”
I shake my head. “Sorry. Uh… yes.” I unlock the door and step inside, shrugging off my jacket.
Theo closes the door behind him and leans up against it, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “You live alone?” His gaze trails around the room.
I rub the goose bumps along my arms and nod. Words still evade me.
“How have you been?”
How have I been? Is that a real question? “Good.” I relinquish a polite smile.
He nods.
The awkwardness sucks the oxygen from the room. My heartbeat is sporadic like it doesn’t have a clue what to do.
