Beyond The Roses

by Monica James

  Turning onto my back, I huff, annoyed that I’m still wide-awake at three a.m. The harder I try to fall asleep, the more awake I seem to be.

  Kicking off the blankets, I give up on the notion of counting sheep and decide to finish writing in the journal Tamara gave me. The entries are plagued with uncertainty, but this entry will be a new chapter.

  Just as I press pen to paper, my cell chimes. I pause, peering from left to right, wondering if I’m hearing things. The illuminated screen on my nightstand reveals my hearing isn’t failing me just yet. Reaching for my phone, my heart jumps into my throat when I see what the simple message says.

  Sunflower.

  This word has taken on a whole different meaning. Our SOS.

  Jumping from my bed, I skid along the tiles and almost collide with the front door as I open it. However, I do collide into something warm, hard, and delicious smelling when I step out into the hallway.

  He catches me, just as I knew he would.

  Roman scoops me into his arms and holds me with all his might. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m such a fucking asshole. Please forgive me,” he mumbles against my temple.

  I close my eyes and bask in his feel, his scent, his warmth. I’m going to miss this so much. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s all right. You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

  We stand hugging in the hallway with no sign of letting go. However, when I realize I’m standing in my pajamas in the corridor, I gently pull out from his arms. The dim lights echo his broken stance, and I never want to see that look again.

  “Come inside.” I’m thankful when he nods.

  The moment I close the door, Roman presses his chest to my back and pulls me into his arms once more. There is a lingering urgency to our connection, and I know he feels it too.

  “They were supposed to work. This is not how your story ends,” he says, tightening his hold around my waist.

  “Everyone’s story is different.”

  “I gave you false hope.” His guilt is palpable, but he has nothing to be guilty for.

  “Stop it,” I press. “Any hope is better than none.”

  “This is my fault.” A tide of his sweetened breath warms the length of my neck. “I was so certain it would work.”

  “It’s nobody’s fault. I was so determined to live, and I did. This short amount of time was the best time of my life. I’ve lived a full life because you love me.” My voice wavers, my heart swelling with the immeasurable love I feel for this man.

  He nuzzles his nose into my hair, inhaling. “This entire time, our story was supposed to be…you lived, and I died. But alas, plot twist. The writer of our story is one messed up, sadistic bitch.”

  I can’t help but laugh weakly because he’s right.

  “We’re both fighting harder for the other person’s life,” I say, not fully understanding this irrevocable bond we share.

  He’s silent, his heavy breathing the only sound betraying his thoughts. “When it comes to accepting your own death…I think we make peace that it’s our time. But when faced with the death of someone you love…you’ll fight for them, with them until their last dying breath,” he openly confesses.

  I gasp because it’s exactly how I feel. I just couldn’t find the right words.

  Roman is forever my protector, but in this circumstance, he has to let go. “You can save people’s lives…but you can’t save them from life.” And that’s the god’s honest truth.

  “You could always do more trials.” His pleas are beginning to fizzle.

  “What’s the point? You’re still dead, and I don’t want to live in a world where you don’t exist.”

  “Well, neither do I.”

  What a crossroad to be stuck at.

  “So what do we do now?” And that’s the million-dollar question. That’s the question I’ve been asking myself all day.

  “Now,” he whispers, a mewl slipping from me when he lowers his lips and kisses over my thrumming pulse. “We forget about today and focus on tomorrow.”

  “I like the sound of that.” I barely get the words out as he bites and licks over my sensitive flesh.

  It doesn’t take long before I’m lax against him, allowing him full rein of my body. His hands and lips are everywhere, taking my breath away with their exigency to engulf me whole. He spins me around, and our lips smash together, desperate to never break apart.

  He fists my hair, his ravenous rumbles stirring a burn within my soul. We can no longer wait, as each second is truly precious. He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, never severing our lips dancing in perfect harmony.

  My back hits the sofa and Roman’s weight falls on top of me soon after. We’re a blur of frenzied hands and hungry tongues as we tug at one another’s clothing, the desperation leaving me gasping for breath.

  The moment I’m naked beneath him, he cherishes every inch of my flesh. Losing myself in him, I never want to be found. He milks every last tremor of pleasure from me before he finally comes up for air.

  I watch with lust-clouded vision as he reaches over his head and tears off his T-shirt. My eyes zero in on the center of his chest. The soft lighting showcases the scar, bringing home the fact that our time together comes with an expiration date.

  I’ve been brave, but in the partial darkness, I let down my walls. “I’m scared,” I whisper, raising my hand and placing a palm to his hammering heart.

  “I am too,” he confesses. “But everything worth doing starts with being scared.”

  “It’s not the beginning I’m afraid of,” I acknowledge, turning my cheek, ashamed.

  “Don’t be afraid. I’ll never stop holding your hand.” The importance of his promise comes to a climax when he places his hand over mine. “I’ll never give up on you.”

  And I know he means it.

  A single tear falls down my cheek before words will no longer suffice. I reach for his neck, drawing his face back to mine. He presses our foreheads together, staring deeply into my eyes. That single look amounts to a thousand words. I close the distance between us and kiss him like there is no tomorrow.

  His pants hit the floor minutes later, and before long, we’re moving, breathing, living as one. I will never tire of this feeling. Nothing can ever surmount this.

  “I…love you,” I gasp, eyes slipping to half-mast in pure ecstasy.

  My words inspire him to move faster and harder, linking us so not even a wisp of air can pass between us. “I love you, too.”

  “Never let me go.” With trembling fingers, I trace every curve of his chiseled face, wishing to memorize every single part of him. With an unhurried tempo, he moves, relishing in the feel of us becoming one.

  His head falls to my shoulder. He hums, smelling, licking, teasing my slicked flesh. “I promise.” He accents his comment with a buck of his hips. I whimper, clutching his sweaty shoulders.

  And he stays true to his word. Well, for tonight anyway.

  Stretching lazily, I partially open one eye.

  The sleeping beauty beside me appears contented, a faint smile planted on his pink lips. Today is no clearer than yesterday, but it’s okay. With Roman by my side, we can work through anything.

  I can’t help myself and prop up on an elbow, peering down at the man who has changed my life forever. I never thought I would ever feel this way for another human being, but just meeting Roman has shown me that anything is possible.

  Skimming my finger along his forehead, I dip down the slope of his nose, tracing the outline of those sinful lips. I don’t waste a minute and lower my mouth to his. A sleepy moan rumbles from his chest.

  “Is this my wake-up call? If it is, I think I’m still fast asleep and will be for quite some time. You better try harder.” I giggle around his mouth, happy to comply.

  I deepen the kiss, my hair falling around us to cloak us from the real world. Our mouths move at a languid pace. We’re in no real hurry to leave this room anytime soon. But who sa
ys we have to?

  I’m still not confident enough to call the shots, but I roll on top of him, dominating him like he would usually dominate me. The move seems to please him, as he groans deeply, the low sound hitting where it hurts.

  We’re still very naked, and it doesn’t take long for something delicious to stir below.

  “I’m insatiable when it comes to you,” he huskily confesses, biting his bottom lip.

  The sight has me mewling.

  Going with instinct, I sit upright, straddling Roman’s waist. The connection has us both groaning. He raises his hand and runs it down the side of my neck before dipping down and cupping my breasts. I arch my neck backward, losing myself in a feeling comparable to heaven.

  However, heaven is about to turn into hell.

  “Lola, I hope you don’t mind, but we let ourselves in with the spare key—oh, my god!”

  I turn over my shoulder so quickly, I’m certain I’ve pulled a muscle in my neck. But that doesn’t compare to the muscle my mother has pulled in her face when her mouth falls open and her eyes bulge from her head. She looks seconds away from passing out.

  “I…oh…my…I’m…god…naked…so naked…so sorry!” She fumbles over her words, clutching on to the doorframe, steadying her wavering form.

  She has just caught her naked daughter, lying on top of her very naked boyfriend, and I suddenly think it’s the funniest thing in the world.

  A giggle slips past me as I cross my arms over my chest, while Roman sinks into the sofa, hoping it swallows him whole. “Come back in five minutes.”

  She nods but doesn’t move a muscle. I think she’s gone into shock.

  “Mom, a little privacy, please.”

  Roman places his forearm over his eyes, shaking his head in horror. I’m still chuckling.

  “Oh god, yes, of course. I’m so sorry.” She finally snaps to and slams the front door shut.

  When the coast is clear, I snort with laughter, unable to stop.

  “This isn’t funny,” Roman admonishes, only making the situation worse. “I didn’t want to meet your mom butt naked.”

  He gently pushes me off him, jumping from the sofa, on the hunt for his clothes.

  I roll onto my side, gasping for breath. “And what a butt it is.”

  He ignores my outburst, slipping into his jeans and T-shirt. “She’s going to kill me, isn’t she?”

  “No,” I reply, catching my breath.

  “No?” he questions, pausing midway through combing his fingers through his bed hair.

  Jumping from the sofa, I search for some clothes. “Let’s do this.”

  This is a rite of passage as such, as I’ve never introduced my parents to a boyfriend before. Before I got sick, I dated a few guys, but never anyone serious, never anyone I wanted my parents to meet.

  I walk to the front door with Roman dragging his feet every step of the way. “Are you sure I’ll leave this house with all parts intact?”

  I stifle a laugh behind my hand.

  The moment I open the door, my mother pales, while my father smiles, none the wiser. She clearly didn’t let on what she walked into. “Hello. Good morning. Hi.”

  I’ve never seen my mom bothered. I grin, highly amused. “Good morning. Come in.” They do.

  Roman clears his throat. “Good morning, Ms. Van Allen. Mr. Van Allen. I’m Roman Archibald, Lola’s…”

  “He’s my boyfriend.” I fill in the blanks. I wanted to introduce Roman to my parents another way. But timing doesn’t seem to be on my side in all aspects of my life.

  My mother gasps, while my father sizes up Roman. He seems happy with what he sees.

  “Roman is a doctor,” I explain, leaving out the particulars of how we met. They can work out the minor details.

  The tension can be cut with a knife until my father says, “Hello, Dr. Archibald.”

  “Roman is fine,” he corrects with a wave.

  “Please, call me Dermott then. Are you hungry?” He holds up the bags and coffee tray he’s carrying. “We brought breakfast.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  My mother is still speechless but follows us to the table.

  “Up to anything special today?” my dad asks, stirring his coffee.

  Roman reaches for a bagel, then places it on my napkin. I look over at him, smiling. “I’m not sure.” We probably should discuss what exactly we plan to do.

  “There’s a color vibe run this weekend, I believe? That sounds like fun.” My father must assume Roman works out. His burly build does imply that. “You watched it from your window last year, didn’t you, Lola?”

  Just as I’m about to change the subject, as I know Roman isn’t in any shape to be participating in any runs, he says, “Yes, that’s correct. And it is fun. I usually participate every year. But I won’t be this year.”

  Both my mother and father give him their full attention.

  He clears his throat. “I actually have a congenital heart defect.” My father stops chewing, and my mother’s eyes widen for the second time today. “It has gotten progressively worse. My twin sister passed from it many years ago.” I instinctively reach out and hold his hand.

  My father lowers his coffee. “My condolences to you and your family.”

  “Thank you. It was a long time ago.” Regardless, the pain is still raw.

  Roman doesn’t need to go into detail. My parents know that the illness will eventually claim his life, too. What they don’t know is that he’s chosen to beat it the only way he knows how.

  “It’s okay. Each day is a miracle, one I don’t take for granted.” I smile at his courage, proud to be his. “I want you to know that I love Lola. Very much,” he adds, looking over with nothing but devotion. “I would never hurt her, and I will do everything to protect her.”

  I cast my eyes downward, understanding the double-edged sword.

  “I have a feeling you are the reason Lola participated in the trials,” my mother says.

  But Roman rebukes her assumption. “No, Ms. Van Allen, Lola is the reason because she’s a fighter. I may have given her a little push”—he smiles, as that’s putting it mildly—“but she’s the strongest, most determined person I know. I wish I had her strength.”

  My father smiles proudly at me. “She gets that from her mother.” Once upon a time, that would have utterly offended me, but now, it doesn’t seem so bad.

  “You’re right. You both are,” she says with a smile, while my father laughs heartily.

  I can’t hide my shock. Is she making yet another joke?

  We continue eating in silence, everyone absorbing what was shared.

  I hate that Roman can no longer participate in events he obviously enjoyed. “Maybe we could check it out?” I suggest, breaking the silence. “There is a shorter leg we can compete in. One mile instead of five.”

  Roman chews, pensive, but nods. “I’m sure we can manage that.” And he’s right. With Roman by my side, I can manage anything.

  We stopped by Roman’s hotel so he could take a shower and grab a change of clothes. It seems silly, him staying in a hotel, but I still don’t know what his plans are. September first is not that far away, and if what Dr. Carter said is true, I’ll be gone in four, maybe eight weeks if I’m lucky.

  The thought of being here without Roman is almost too much to bear. I don’t think I can stand by and watch him take his own life. I know he’d never expect me to, but if he still decides to go ahead with it, then I would hold his hand, just as he’s holding mine.

  Hundreds of thousands of budding competitors crowd the starting line in Brooklyn. Once we arrive at the registration table, I see someone I never thought I’d see again.

  “Dr. Archibald?” Erin says. Her surprise is apparent

  “Hello, Erin. How have you been?”

  She rounds the table and gives him a big hug. “I’ve been great. What are you doing here?”

  “I was hoping we could register.”

  Erin looks over at me an
d does a double take when she obviously remembers who I am. “Oh my god. Hi, Lola, right?”

  I can’t help but smile at her energy. “Yes, that’s right. Hi, Erin. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “You too.” She looks between us, grinning. She knows something has changed since the last time she saw us together.

  “You’re cutting it close,” she teases, pulling the pencil out from behind her ear. She no longer wears the head scarf I saw her with. She wears her spiky short hair, proudly. “But for you, I can make an exception.”

  “Dr. Archibald? Are you lost?” teases a middle-aged man as he approaches. He’s also in running gear.

  Roman laughs, extending his hand. “Hello, Gus. I didn’t think they allowed the elderly to compete.” Gus explodes into fits of laughter. “It’s nice to see you.”

  “You too. Where have you been hiding?”

  “Nowhere, just busy with work.”

  It’s apparent they are good friends. It saddens me that regardless of how well-liked Roman is, he will leave this world alone.

  “This is my girlfriend, Lola Van Allen.”

  I’ll never tire of hearing him refer to me that way. I shake Gus’s hand; he seems surprised.

  “Wow, I’m sorry for staring,” he says, still shaking my hand. “But I’ve known Roman for over ten years, and not once have I ever met any of his girlfriends.”

  “That’s because there was no one to introduce.” He wraps his arm around me, pulling me to his side.

  I smile proudly, feeling a blush tint my cheeks.

  Gus appears beyond elated for Roman, as does Erin. She looks so well. Better than when I saw her last. I’m not resentful that her trials were a success and mine weren’t. I’m happy because she’s living proof of the lives Roman has touched.

  “Come over here, and I’ll register you both,” Gus says to Roman, gesturing with his head to a table to the left.

  “I’ll be back in a moment.” He kisses my forehead.