Beyond The Roses

by Monica James

  I step off to the side, but Erin asks a girl to take over. It’s clear she wants to chat.

  “I know this is completely out of line,” she starts off with. “But I’m so happy Roman has found someone. He has helped the lives of so many people, giving them hope. It only seems fair he’s happy, too.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot to me.” Roman has touched so many people. Erin is just one of thousands, I’m sure. I want her to know why Roman introduced us in the first place. “I hope you don’t mind, but Roman told me he helped you.”

  Her smile turns nostalgic. “No, not at all. I’m proud.”

  “The reason he told me was because…” I pick at my burgundy nail polish, hoping to pay tribute to the next sentence as best I can. “Because I actually have a brain tumor. The same type you had.”

  Her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  I wave her off, thankful for her compassion. “It’s okay, really. I’m so happy things worked out for you.”

  She lowers her eyes, and I see it. Guilt. The same feeling I felt when given a second chance. “Oh, Lola…” She understands my trial ended differently than hers. “I truly am so sorry.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t tell you to make you feel guilty, but because you’re a miracle. You’re living proof of Roman’s determination and commitment to saving the world.” I can’t keep the tears away because soon, she will be a rare species.

  “I think that every day,” she whispers, her lower lip trembling. “If it weren’t for Dr. Archibald, I would hate to think where I’d be. I owe him my life.”

  A lot of people do, I silently reply.

  Roman returns, looking at us carefully. We both wipe away our tears.

  “Ready to get your ass whipped?” I tease, standing on tippy toes and wrapping my arms around his neck. Erin smiles before going back to work behind the table.

  “I didn’t realize this was a race.” He smirks, a glimmer in his beautiful blue eyes.

  “Let’s make things interesting,” I reply. “For twenty-four hours, the loser has to do everything the winner says.” I am suddenly determined to lose.

  Roman hums, the sound resonating all the way to my center. “You know I don’t like to lose.”

  “Well, neither do I,” I reply, snaring my bottom lip when a lopsided smirk tugs at his mouth.

  “Deal,” he finally says. I don’t have a chance to respond because he swoops forward and kisses me fiercely.

  I clutch at the soft strands of hair curling at the nape of his neck, uncaring that we’re making out in front of thousands of people. This is a memory I will never forget.

  “Just a taste of what you’re in for when I win.”

  I see stars and smirk. “The utter torture,” I taunt. “Bye, Erin.” I wave, and she peers up, nodding sentimentally.

  Roman appears carefree and relaxed. He shakes out his legs and arms, a true athlete’s warmup. I know I have no chance of keeping up with him, but I also know he’ll carry me every step of the way.

  I turn to him, appreciating every second we’re together. “I love you.”

  His chest inflates proudly. “I love you, too.” He leans over, kissing me softly.

  The gun suddenly sounds, alerting us that the race has started. But it can’t compare to the racing of my heart. Roman breaks our kiss, laughing when I pout. He reaches for my hand, and we commence a slow jog, attempting to keep up with the flow of bodies. Everyone seems to work in unison without pushing or shoving because that’s not what this race is about.

  The sun is shining down brightly, warming my tired muscles and giving me the strength to continue. We’re running at a very slow pace, but it’s perfect for Roman and me. I take in the sights of Brooklyn, a truly different world from Manhattan.

  I’m enjoying the scenery, unbelieving that I’m here, participating in an event I never thought I would be able to. I’ve experienced so many firsts with Roman, and each one will forever be etched in my mind.

  It also appears Roman has experienced a first with me too.

  “So…” I breathlessly pose. “I’m the first girlfriend to be seen in public with you. I’m honored.” Roman laughs, his arms swinging as he effortlessly jogs beside me. “So how many non-girlfriends have you had?”

  “Too many to count,” he mocks, laughing when I turn to glare at him.

  “Forget I said anything.” I gulp, realizing this is a can of worms I don’t wish to open, now or ever.

  I pick up the pace, but Roman keeps up with ease. “None of them matter,” he says with honesty. “You’re the only woman who has ever made me want to live.”

  I crane my neck to look at him, wondering if he’s implying what I think he is. Has he changed his mind?

  “And what happens after I go?”

  “I go with you,” he evenly replies.

  “W-what?” I stutter, coming to an abrupt stop. “You’ve changed your mind? Roman?” I grab his wrist, trapping him to the spot.

  He appears saddened, but nods. “Yes. I still intend to go to Niagara, but not until after…” He leaves the sentence hanging, not needing to fill in the blanks.

  This is progress. I wish he weren’t going to Niagara at all. Although he says he doesn’t have long, is there really an expiration date on his life? Could he go in two weeks, or is it more like two years?

  “You said you don’t have long. How long do you have?” This is the worst place to be asking him this, but when will there ever be a good time.

  “Lola,” he warns, but I press, squeezing his wrist.

  “How long?”

  “About six months,” he confesses. He knows what I’m about to say before I even have a chance to open my mouth. “But there are no guarantees. I will grow weaker, and my body will fail me. I can’t live the rest of my days reminiscing about what I once had, about who I once was. I won’t be able to work, and the simplest of chores, which I take for granted now, will be impossible for me to do.”

  “But six months? So much can happen in that time. A new drug may be released tomorrow.”

  He shakes his head, incensed. “You don’t get it. I have nothing left to live for.”

  I seal my lips, touched but angered all in the same breath. “Roman…”

  But he steps forward, cupping his hands to my cheeks, searching my face. “I made this decision long before I met you. I’ve made my peace with it. I’m still here because of you, but once you’re…” He closes his eyes, pained. “You’re not here, then I won’t be either. Please respect my wishes.”

  I want to protest, but how can I? If the tables were turned, would I do the same thing? I know the answer is yes.

  A lump forms in my throat because this is really happening. I thought by some miracle he’d change his mind, but that was never an option. He has compromised and stayed true to his word of protecting me until the very end. I just wish I could do the same thing for him.

  I can’t run away from my fears, but I can run. And that’s what I plan on doing. If I stay at a standstill a second longer, I’m sure to break down into tears. I nudge my head, implying let’s finish what we started.

  Roman reads my inner turmoil, but I don’t give him a chance to address it. I take off in a sprint, needing some time to think. We jog in silence, my mind racing. I know I need to accept this, but I can’t.

  As my mind whips relentlessly, so do my feet. I pick up the pace, not even realizing it. The faster I run, the more confused I feel. I need to find a solution. There must be something I’m missing. A lot can happen in six months, and to think Roman has given up has me wanting to fight twice as hard.

  I catalog every scenario, eliminating endless situations because I’ve gone over them already. As I push my legs harder, my heart beats strongly within my chest. The sound is a hypnotizing pendulum, flaunting my strength and weakness.

  The first color station is up ahead, indicating we’ve managed half a mile. Turning over my shoulder, I see Roman is a few feet behind. His cheeks are a bright red,
and it’s clear he’s struggling to breathe.

  This is exactly what he’s talking about. A year ago, I have no doubt he’d be close to the finish line. But this year, he’ll be lucky to make it a mile.

  I push harder and harder, determined to save him. But how? I need a miracle. I need a sign.

  People flash past me, and I know I’m running on pure adrenaline, but I’m afraid once I stop, I’ll have to face the truth. Roman is dying, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  An explosion of color detonates before me, a literal rainbow blazing before my eyes as I plunge past the first color station. Every single color imaginable coats my sweaty skin, transforming something plain into something magical.

  My heart trounces inside my chest, uplifting my accomplishment because I thought I could never do it. But that’s the problem; Nothing’s wrong with my heart. It’s my head that’s the issue—the perfect oxymoron.

  Peering down at my multicolored hands, I flip them over, desperate to uncover how these hands can help heal. There must be something I can do. I can’t stand back and watch him take his own life. Until every possible scenario is exhausted, I won’t give up. I can’t. Roman has never given up on me, and I don’t plan on giving up on him.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  I’m suddenly hit with a gravity so severe, I stagger backward, gasping for breath as I clutch at my chest. Through the kaleidoscopes of color, I have finally seen the light. I was looking in all the wrong places. The rainbow has led me to the simplest answer, one which has been staring me in the face all along.

  Runners push past as I stand unmoving, bleeding colorful tears. I’m crying a rainbow, and it’s simply beautiful. I found my pot of gold. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.

  Turning my hands over and over again, for the first time in a long time, I have hope because…I know how I can save Roman.

  I was declared the winner, and I was, just not in the way Roman thinks. We went back to his hotel to shower, after which Roman fell into a deep slumber.

  His health is deteriorating. I can understand why he doesn’t want to live this way. That fact is the reason I haven’t slept a wink. I’ve researched well into the night, studying something I’m certain will save Roman.

  I know without a doubt he’ll fight me on this. He’ll argue until he’s red in the face, so I need to compile a strong, unbending case, then he’ll have no other choice but to say yes.

  I tell myself that as I’m looking over the billionth webpage on my phone.

  There is no way he’s going to agree to this. I can see this conversation going down as the worst in history. But I have to try.

  Gently rising from the bed, I tiptoe through the room, not wanting to wake Roman. He’s been out for the count for hours, and it doesn’t look like he’ll be waking anytime soon. I lock myself in the bathroom, staring at my cell.

  Once I make this call, it’ll be official. There’ll be no turning back. Leaning against the door, I gaze at myself in the mirror. I recall every single memory that has led me here. My friends dying, me dying, it all can’t be in vain.

  Roman once said to me that if I died, what was the point to all this heartache? That sentence has resonated with me since I first heard it because I now know what all this means.

  My fingers tremble as I scroll through my contact list. It’s just after five a.m., but I can’t wait. I’m afraid I’ll chicken out if I do. I plan to leave a message, so I’m surprised when Dr. Carter answers the phone.

  “Lola?” His croaky voice is a sure sign I’ve woken him. I instantly feel awful for disturbing him. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m so sorry, Dr. Carter. I didn’t mean to wake you. I can call back…” I make a face, embarrassed I woke him.

  “No, no, it’s okay. I’m awake now. What can I do for you?” I hear a rustle and soft footsteps.

  “I was wondering if I could come to see you today. I wanted to ask you something.” I bite my lip, nervous he’ll refuse.

  “Of course. Come see me around midday.”

  I exhale in relief. “Thank you so much.”

  “Will Dr. Archibald be coming with you?”

  Peering at my reflection, I tell myself this is the right thing to do. Roman has his entire life to be angry with me. “No, just me. If you wouldn’t mind, can you not mention this to anyone?”

  He’s silent, most likely wondering why. “Of course. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  I hang up, one step closer to achieving what I know will work. Roman will hate me—of this I’m sure—but this is the only way.

  I leave a letter telling Roman I will be back later, ready to claim my prize.

  I know this most likely will be the last time I see Dr. Carter. After today, my life will change forever.

  This waiting room with its flawless exterior only covers what’s hiding beneath. These walls have seen immeasurable pain, but I’m hoping to be in the minority where things are sometimes just how they should be.

  Wilma peers at me from over her marbled counter, focusing on my foot, which is bouncing uncontrollably. “Sorry,” I mouth, lost in my own world.

  She smiles. I’ve always liked her. She has been good to Georgia and me. The thought of my friend has me pulling back my shoulders. I know she would be proud of what I’ve decided.

  “Lola.” Dr. Carter opens his office door, smiling when he sees me.

  I press the folder with the mountain of printouts to my chest as I stand. “Hi, Dr. Carter.”

  He gives me all the time I need as I limp to his door. I know today is just one of many to come.

  Once I’ve crossed the threshold, I slump on the leather seat, taking a deep breath. This is it. The point of no return.

  Dr. Carter reads my desperation and places formalities aside. “What can I do for you?”

  My heart begins to beat madly. Although I’m terrified, the sound is comforting. It encourages me to continue. Leaning forward, I pass him the folder. Everything I need to say is in there.

  He accepts it, his confusion apparent. Nonetheless, he slips on his silver-framed glasses and opens what I hope to be Roman’s future. Dr. Carter is an intelligent man, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out why I’m here. The note I’ve written him is the first thing he reads.

  “Is this true?” he asks, shaking his head, stunned.

  I nod, toying with the locket around my neck. “Yes.”

  He leans back in his seat, blowing out a heavy breath. I give him all the time he needs because it’s a lot to take in. “Lola…this is…”

  “I know.” He doesn’t need to complete the sentence. I know what he’s thinking.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “Yes.” I don’t need time to think because it’s the only thing that makes sense.

  He steeples his fingers, pondering. He can’t say no. He’s the only person I know who can help me.

  “Please…help me help him. He’s the only thing that matters.”

  Dr. Carter has seen my tears before, but something in this plea touches him. Whether it’s my honesty or what I’m proposing, I’ll never know, but when he nods, time stands still. “Okay.”

  I remain seated, too afraid to move. This is really happening. “T-thank you.”

  He sighs, picking up his phone. “Wilma?” She replies a second later. “Please clear my schedule. And can you bring in two black coffees?”

  I shuffle in my seat, a ball of nervous energy. This is the first step, and I’ve never been more curious to see how it ends.

  Peering at my reflection in the mirrored elevator wall, I touch up my plum lipstick and straighten out my black dress. Everything has to be perfect. The doors open, and I hesitate. I’ve never been more scared. Once I step out of this car, everything will change. The scary part is, I don’t know if that change will be for the better.

  I can do this.

  I thank my mom for her stupid ca
tchphrase as I walk toward Roman’s door. When it opens, all my fears and worries disappear. I’m doing this for the man I love. I know he’ll see reason—eventually.

  “Wow,” Roman exclaims, examining me from head to toe. “You look amazing.”

  “This old thing?” I tease, attempting to hide my embarrassment.

  He smirks while I remind myself to breathe. “Come in.” I step forward, only for him to pull me into his arms.

  Peering up at him from under my mascara-clad lashes, I hope he doesn’t note my nerves. If he looks hard enough, I know he’ll be able to see.

  “I missed you,” he huskily declares.

  “I-I missed you too.” My heart begins to beat faster and faster.

  “You’re shaking. What’s the matter?” With the gentlest of touches, he brushes the hair from my cheek.

  “I…I need to talk to you.”

  He arches a brow. “About what?” His voice is swimming with suspicion and alarm.

  “Let’s go inside.” I reach for his hand and guide him inside. He follows, but his body is suddenly wound tight.

  I wanted to lead in a little more subtly, but I should have known he’d see right through me. Nevertheless, I lead us over to the couch, but I don’t think I can sit still.

  “What’s going on?” He folds his arms over his chest, waiting for me to explain my bizarre behavior.

  “I, just…can you sit?” I rub my forehead, unhappy with how this has started. His lips pull into a thin, angry line, but he eventually complies.

  The mood is set for a romantic evening; pillar candles flicker warmly around the room, and a bottle of wine is on the table. But that will have to wait.

  I stand in front of him, wondering how to start this conversation. I’ve practiced what to say a million times in my head, but my mouth has unexpectedly been struck mute.

  Roman leans forward, legs spread, his stance ready to pounce. “Lola?”

  “I…I…” I need to move. I begin pacing, scolding myself for getting stage fright at the worst possible time. The words sit like a heavy lump in my throat.

  Exhaling, I decide to show, rather than tell, because each second wasted is edging Roman closer to the edge. Reaching into my bag, I retrieve the folder I showed Dr. Carter. It’s grown since today. He’s given me everything I need, and my pitch is now flawless. The choice is now Roman’s.