And then I would have to admit that she wasn’t coming back.
My phone rang in the bathroom, finally tearing me away from my soggy cereal. I got up, barely even noticing the pink-and-green lattice wallpaper that Greer had said was “very Palm Beach,” glancing at my hair, which seemed darker since it was wet, in the shiny white mirror, running my hand across the three-day stubble that I needed to shave before work. I was deeply tanned, even though it was December. Winters were mild in Palm Beach, and solitary days on the boat were what kept me breathing—the sea, the sky, the wind. Every daythe water outside my door held something new. I kept thinking that maybe it would bring me something new, too, erase the fact that Greer was gone. As of yet, no luck.
A familiar but confusing number lit up my black iPhone screen. “Amelia Saxton.” Her Facebook profile picture popped up too. Her exuberant face on the screen, the way her wavy dark blond hair fell over her shoulders and her blue eyes shone, so full of life even on camera, almost made me smile back at her happiness.Almost.I briefly considered sending it to voice mail, but I didn’t. Instead, I answered, thrusting myself onto the sword of whatever inconvenience was on the line.
Just seeing Amelia’s name brought back the memory of the day Greer told me she wanted to end her life—before the cancer could. It took my breath away.
When Greer told me, my first reaction was to tell her no. But no one tells Greer McCann no. Not even her husband. When she said it, this eerie calm came over me, as though I were outside myself, receiving news that didn’t pertain to me. I had just faced that Greer was sick. I had never considered that my wife would die. She was too real to actually die. When she brought the subject up in our usual restaurant with my usual steak and merlot, I had nearly forgotten, seeing the way the light reflected off her pretty face, that she was even sick.
We had just been talking about how we would decorate a nursery when she got well, for Pete’s sake.
I swallowed a sip of wine, my stomach turning over. This was the only woman I had ever loved. I had changed so muchof who I was and what I wanted because being with her was so much better than anything else. She made me happy in a new way, one I had never experienced before. My first thought, looking across the table, was,They’re going to have to kill me, too.
I would have given anything to trade places.
After that, I couldn’t stop touching Greer. I followed her everywhere, gauging her moves and her actions, trying to decide if she was getting worse, trying to keep her here with me. I didn’t necessarily agree with her idea to announce her plans viaClematis. But, again, Greer and “no” never mixed well. She wanted to frame the story to bring attention to her charity. I didn’t care what she did as long as I got to hover over her and breathe life into her while she did it.
She wouldn’t let me stay in the room with Amelia—the reporter who also happened to be my childhood friend. But I stood at the door. I could make out only snippets of the conversation. When I showed Amelia out of the house, I could tell she was shell-shocked. I’d known her since I was born. She was so quiet. “I’m sorry” was all she managed as she engulfed me in a familiar hug.
I nodded. “Me too.”
That was it, but maybe it was all we needed.
Back in the house, I found Greer in the shower, and I climbed in behind her.
I kissed her, quite intent on making love to her right then and there. In that simple gesture, something as familiar to me by then as brushing my hair, I finally broke down. Sobsescaped me, and, naked as the day I was born, I wept on the black-and-white marble floor of our walk-in shower.
“Babe,” Greer said calmly, “what is the matter?”
I pulled her down onto the floor with me, holding her in my arms. “I can’t know it’s the last time,” I said, pressing my face into her neck. She didn’t smell like death yet. She still smelled like her, like Shiseido shampoo and rose body oil.
She ran her fingers down my back, laying her head on my shoulder, the water dripping around us. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t have it planned, G. I can’t know when you’re going to go. I can’t know that it’s the last time I’m going to make love to you, or kiss you, or feel you in my arms.” I paused, catching my breath. “I know all that is coming, but it has to be a progression. I can’t know ahead of time.”
My dying wife was the one consoling me. I thought I was tough, but she was stronger. I expected her to argue with me. Instead, she whispered, “Okay.”
I looked up at her. “Really?”
She nodded sadly. “I wanted to get it over with for you. I didn’t want you to have to watch me go downhill. But if that’s what you need, if that will help your healing process, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“It’s like a really bleak ‘Gift of the Magi,’?” I said, kissing her.
“I always thought that story was pretty bleak anyway,” she joked, trying to make me smile.
She got up, washing the soap out of her hair like we hadn’t just had one of the most emotional scenes of our lives. She pulled me up and said, “Parker Thaysden, you are the best decision I ever made, and I will love you for all eternity. Even when I’m not here.”
I kissed her again. “No man has ever loved a woman the way I love you.”
She smiled. “I agree wholeheartedly.”
The shower is where most people go to think. But for me, now, the shower is memory central. There isn’t a single morning I step in that I don’t think about that night. I feel guilty about it, but I stand firm in my decision. We had more time than we were told we would. I cherish every moment of it, even the bad parts.
With all of that weighing so heavily on my mind, I knew I couldn’t talk about Greer. Not even to Amelia, who I’d known all my life. Not to anyone. But then again, my urgently ringing phone reminded me, Amelia could potentially have some pressing news from Cape Carolina. Or maybe she wanted to do an article about the foundation, which would bring attention to the great work we were doing. Greer would want that.
The phone had already rung four times when I slid to answer and hit the speaker button. “Hello.”
“Parker,” Amelia said cheerily. Too cheerily. So cheerily that something was clearly up.
