“Every day from the crack of dawn,” he said—and I completed the rest, “until we can’t keep our eyes open one second longer.”
About three, we finally did fall asleep in each other’s arms, our fingers entwined, my head on his chest. I remember thinking,This is the way it should be. Just like this. For many, many years.
And then the alarm clock began to ring.
Sixty-nine
BRENDAN LEANEDdown close and gave me a kiss on the lips. He was already up and dressed. “Crack of dawn,” he said. “Ready for a swim in the lake?”
“Don’t make jokes now, not even good ones. Okay, Brendan?”
“My chances of surviving three years with GBM is less than —”
I cut him off. “All right, jokes are okay. Jokes are good.” I came across the bed and kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Probably from the first time I ever saw you at the lake. You were, and still are, the most beautiful girl in the world.In the world.Got it?”
“I got it.” I smiled. “Of course, it’s only your opinion.”
“Good point. But I happen to be right on this one.”
I was pretty sure that I had my emotions under control for the moment. That’s why I wasn’t prepared for something so small to tear me apart. I noticed Brendan’s hands shaking badly as he bent to secure a new pair of shoes that looked like his Nike cross-trainers but weren’t. Instead of laces, the shoes had Velcro flaps.Brendan couldn’t tie his shoelaces anymore.
He looked up, saw me watching him. “Ilikethese shoes.”
An image flashed into my mind: Brendan’s swimming stroke as he powered across the lake on a summer morning. Now he couldn’t tie his own shoes. I ached for him. Brendan knew what was in store for him: the pain, the sickening aftereffects, the very real possibility that he would die.
I put my arms around him. “This is going to work out,” I said. It had to.
Less than twenty minutes later, Brendan and I stepped out of the hotel into hazy morning light. He stood quietly, resting an arm on the roof of the car, and he stilllookedhealthy. He was taking in a coffee shop’s blinking neon sign, then a fieldstone church across the street, as if he were memorizing each mundane detail.
“Pretty diner, pretty church,verypretty girl,” he said. Then he climbed into the passenger seat. A little stiffly. I heard the seat belt click as Brendan strapped in for the ride of his life.
“Let’s go, beautiful. We have an appointment in Samarra or someplace like that.”
For one of the only times that summer, the two of us were mostly quiet. The early-morning drive took only a few minutes from the Colonial to the St. Marys underground garage. An elevator took us up to the first floor. From there, we headed along a stained-glass corridor to the Joseph Building, which was where Brendan would be admitted and prepped for surgery.
Brendan stopped and put his hands on top of my shoulders. He leaned in and held me and stared into my eyes.
“I think that I’ve run out of jokes, Jennifer. Do you mind if I tell you that I love you again?”
“No. Please.”Just keep talking. Don’t leave me.
“I love you so much, Jennifer. It’s important to me that whatever happens, you know you did great, fabulous. You helped me be strong, more than you know. You did everything that anyone could do, and then some.…Jennifer?”
“I know,” I finally said. “I got it.” I held him even tighter. My eyes squeezed shut, but tears were rolling down my cheeks anyway.
“You’re letting me cry,” I finally managed to say.
“Uh-huh. Yeah. That’s because I am, too.”
I looked into his eyes and saw that he was almost as big a mess as I was. Brendan leaned forward and kissed me on the cheeks, then my eyes, finally my lips. I loved the way he kissed, loved everything about him. I didn’t want to let him go.
“There’s never enough time, is there?” he said. “I think I have to go. I’m late, Jennifer.”
Once we arrived on the fifth floor, the admissions nurse, a portly woman with strong freckled arms, sorted through a pile of papers. Then she called for an orderly, who appeared with a wheelchair. That’s when the thought I really hadn’t been able to face flooded my mind.I might never see Brendan again. This could be it.
“I love you,” I said. “I’ll be waiting right here. I’ll be waiting where I’m standing now.”
