Every Last Drop: A Novel

by Sarah Robinson

  Kyle stirred behind me, and I saw him stretching out over the bed and yawning. His hand came down on my side of the bed, landing on the cool sheets. “Babe?”

  “Over here.”

  He lay on his side to face me and patted the bed next to him.

  Grinning, I pushed Beast onto the cushion beside me and carefully took the two steps over to the bed, stumbling only slightly. His arms quickly secured me, and he pulled me down against him, spooning me.

  “Morning,” I whispered.

  “Morning, beautiful.” He kissed my temple and worked his way down to my neck. “Thank you for last night, by the way. We haven’t done that in so long.”

  We’d stayed up late, just lying next to each other, holding hands, and talking. We’d made love too—sweet, slow, and loving—but it was the talking that truly burrowed its way into my heart. When we’d first started dating, we’d stay up all night telling each other everything on our minds, everything about our pasts, every part of who we were, and are. The closeness I felt at doing that again on our last night, my last night, meant the world to me.

  “It was really nice,” I conceded with a small smile.

  He kissed my shoulder, then I turned around to face him. “I’m referring to the talking, by the way.”

  “I was, too!”

  He lifted one brow. “Suuuuure, you were.”

  I laughed, smacking his chest weakly. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  He didn’t reply this time, a small smile permanently fixed to his lips as we stared at each other. After several quiet moments, his fingers trailed down the side of my face from my temple to my chin.

  I leaned my cheek into his palm, kissing it gently, surprised it felt so wet until I realized I was crying. His thumb moved across my cheek and wiped the streaks from beneath my eyes.

  “I’m glad I can cry with you,” he whispered, my face still pressed to his hand. “Laugh with you. Love you. I’m glad for each moment since we met, because I’ve woken up every morning wondering how the hell I got so damn lucky to be with you. Even if I wanted longer. I’m glad we have now.”

  “You’re my fireworks. My heart,” I touched my chest, laying my palm flat. “My heart didn’t know love until I loved you.” He leaned down and kissed me, soft and lingering. “I’m just so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Kyle.”

  He shook his head, his brows pulled together. “You have done nothing to be sorry for, Tessa.”

  I traced a finger down his jawline. “I promised you old age. I promised you a family. Forever.”

  He squeezed me tighter against him. “We have this. We’ve had these years, and that’s already more than I ever thought possible. Please don’t feel sorry—it would break me. You’ve given me everything I ever could have wanted, Tessa. You’re all my love.”

  My heart squeezed as he repeated the same phrase we’ve said to each other for years. All my love. I’d insisted on it once upon a time. I’d demanded it. I’d also given it. What I hadn’t known was that love was bigger than one person, and fleeting…

  I kissed him again, cherishing the softness of his words. “I don’t want it anymore.”

  “Tessa—” he began to interrupt.

  “No, please, let me say this.” He closed his mouth, his hand trailing down my arm and then resting on my waist. “I don’t want all your love anymore, just some of it. Save me a tiny piece in the corner of your heart that will never forget me, that’s mine forever. Then give the rest to someone else. Someone who deserves you. Someone who can make you a father, and give you the things we dreamed of. You’ll always be my forever, Kyle. But I don’t want to be yours. Your heart is so wonderful, so loving, so large—promise me, someone else will get to love the heart I love so much.” My voice turned pleading. “Promise me, Kyle.”

  “Tessa,” he started, his head already shaking. “I can’t even think about that.”

  “I know, but I’m asking you too.” I pulled my lips between my teeth, biting down on them before rolling them back out. “I’m asking you to be open to it…one day.”

  Kyle dropped his head down onto the bed, burrowing into my neck. I heard him groan, then exhale quickly. “Okay, Tessa. I’ll be open to it. I’ll try. One day. But not today—no more talk like this today.”

  I kissed his cheek until he lifted his head and kissed me until we both needed more. Clothes discarded and blankets pushed away, we silently said thank you, and I’ll miss you. We said I love you to every part of each other, for the last time.

  Souls tangled in grief, I grew old in his arms.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Thursday, October 2, 2014

  “Hey, you’re awake,” Elly greeted me as she entered my bedroom a few hours later and peered into my bathroom. I was seated at the counter toying with my makeup. “Kyle told me it was okay to come up.”

  “Yep, I took a bath.” I lifted an eyeshadow palette. “Want to help?”

  “Sure.” She leaned on the edge of the counter and toyed with a blush compact. “I can do your makeup.”

  “And maybe my hair?” I ran my hand through the wet tangles.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” she said, clapping excitedly. “Hair first.”

  I chuckled lightly and acquiesced. We both faced the mirror covering one whole wall in the bathroom. She ran her fingers through my wet hair, then grabbed a brush and gave it a few passes. Plugging in my blow-dryer next, she used that and a round brush to give my hair volume and waves I hadn’t known was possible.

  I admired her work after she finished. “Wow, it actually looks longer.”

  “It’s grown a lot in six months,” Elly agreed, fluffing it with her fingers. “But you’ve always had beautiful hair. I’m jealous.”

  I laughed at that. Elly was stunning with sharp, dark features and bright eyes that made you feel she truly saw you. “You’ve nothing to be jealous of, little sis. You’re gorgeous.”

  She did a little curtsy, smiling into the mirror at my reflection. “Well, thank you, big sis. Makeup time!”

  I tilted my chin up as she came around to face me, armed with a compact and brush. She smoothed concealer in the dark, sunken circles under my eyes, and evened the splotchy transparent look to my skin with foundation, then dusted it with powder. I watched my reflection, admiring her skill, and how different I looked with only a few products.

  A tiny bit of eye shadow, some swipes of mascara, and a gentle gloss to my lips, then Elly smiled and put her hands up. “Voila!” she announced. “Like it?”

  “I absolutely love it, Elly. You’re so talented.” I opened a bottle of lotion and began lathering it into my arms.

  Elly watched me, saying nothing for a minute or so. When my eyes met hers, I saw tears glistening on her lower lashes.

  “Elly,” I sighed, reaching a hand to hers and tangling our fingers.

  A loud sob tore from her throat and she slid forward, moving off the edge of the counter and throwing her arms around me. My little sister knelt next to my chair, her head in my lap, her arms around my waist, like a child seeking comfort from her mother.

  In a sense, that was exactly what was happening.

  Neither one of us said anything. I let her cry against my legs, gently caressing her head and rubbing small circles on her back. I didn’t cry, I wasn’t even sure I could any more. I’d poured my heart out to Kyle this morning, and cried so much the last few months. But now? I finally felt a strange peace, soothing in an entirely foreign way.

  “Tessa, this can’t be it,” Elly finally managed to get out a sentence.

  “Baby girl, it’s going to be okay.”

  “We could have longer, Tessa.” She lifted her head enough to look up at me, her red-rimmed eyes pleading. “We could have more time.”

  “Elly,” I sighed. “Whether I do this or not, we don’t have more time. I can feel it.”

  She swallowed hard, and dropped her head back to my lap. Her tears slowed and she hiccupped as I continued to caress her head, my moti
ons clumsy, but well-meaning.

  “What do you feel?” Her voice so tiny, my heart squeezed.

  I licked my lips and thought of the best way to describe it. “My symptoms are so much worse, and quickly, but it’s something deeper. I feel it in my soul…in my heart. It’s peace, and…exhaustion. It’s a warmth spreading inside me—a force around me I can’t keep at bay much longer. It’s my time, Elly. It’s just my time.”

  She was quiet again, and I knew she was digesting what I was telling her. “I’m going to miss you, Tessa. More than I even know now.”

  “I know, baby girl. I know.”

  “You’ll always be my sister, no matter what,” Elly continued. “I’m not going to forget you just because you’re gone. I’ll tell my kids about their aunt. I’ll show them your pictures and tell them how much I love you. I’ll make them read your book, and see what a wonderful person their auntie was.”

  “I’d love that, Elly—and I love you. If I get any say over where I’m going, I’ll be watching over you.” I smiled at the thought. “I’ll be your guardian angel.”

  “You already have been for years,” Elly said softly.

  I tilted my head, my heart bursting with love. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d wanted to write this book to pass on something to the world, to leave parts of me behind. But I’d already done that in Elly. She was bits and pieces of me—my legacy.

  We were quiet again, taking the time to sit with our feelings.

  “It has to be today?” she asked one more time.

  “Yeah, baby girl. It has to be today.”

  She nodded, and I saw acceptance in her expression. “Hey, weird question. If you see Mom, will you tell her I love her?”

  My head tipped to the side and I smiled. “Yeah, Elly. I’ll tell her.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Thursday, October 2, 2014

  “Hey, sunshine,” my dad greeted me when I entered the kitchen, enjoying the smell of the home cooked breakfast that had been wafting up the stairs.

  It was still early and Malaika was due to arrive any moment, but I’d been up for hours and had already taken a bath, gotten my makeup and hair done by Elly, and dressed for the day. I’d carefully picked out my outfit—a comfy, form fitting tee shirt under an open sweater I loved pulling tighter around me, like a blanket. My favorite white linen pants and a pair of colorful ballet flats finished my look.

  It was strange deciding what I was going to wear to die in.

  A shiver ran up my spine and I shook it from my shoulders. The truth was, I was nervous. I knew I was doing the right thing, and I knew this was coming whether by my choice or not. I’d accepted that. I had cancer. I was newly twenty-nine years old, and had a tumor in my brain that had spread…everywhere. Conceptually, I had come to terms with it all.

  But the moment was literally hours away and I was…scared.

  I didn’t know what was waiting for me, or what would come after I closed my eyes for the last time. I didn’t know if it would hurt, or if I’d be aware of what was happening, or if there was anything after. It was so unknown, a chilling reality. But it was just that—reality.

  I leaned against the cane for a moment, then made my way to the kitchen table and sat down, already winded. Inhaling deeply, I felt the air enter my lungs, pushing back out just as fast.

  “Hey, Daddy.” I was, and always would be, a Daddy’s Girl.

  He beamed and stood taller. “You look beautiful, sunshine. Radiant, even. Want an omelet?”

  Elly’s makeup was definitely a key factor in my ‘radiance,’ but I also did feel surprisingly…better? I had a bit more energy the last few days, and felt a little more alive. Ironic, I know, and it messed with my head a bit. It made me wonder if this didn’t have to be the end, if I could get better, and this would all have been a terrible nightmare.

  I knew the cancer hadn’t changed, and I’d spoken to my doctor who had assured me this was common—albeit cruel. A small burst of energy, a psychological moment where the body has one last hurrah.

  “Thanks, and yes, please. I’d love an omelet.” My mouth was already salivating despite my lackluster taste buds. “Cheese?”

  “Of course, and extra,” he declared. “The Barnes family loves cheese.”

  I laughed, knowing full well of his obsession with cheese. It must be genetic, since I was just as infatuated. He and I often spent snacks squabbling over perfect cracker-to-cheese ratio. He’d carefully divide the cheese up, enough for each cracker, and God forbid if someone swiped an extra piece of cheese and threw his count off.

  Beast barked at the glass door that led out to the patio. I leaned over and slid open the door enough for him to run out. My dad cracked eggs into a bowl while simultaneously turning bacon in a pan on the stove. The bacon must have been what I was smelling upstairs, because my stomach growled at the reminder.

  “That smells amazing, Dad,” I volunteered, filling the heaviness that blanketed the room.

  “Bacon.” He grunted like a caveman and pounded one fist to his chest. “Good.”

  I snorted, laughing as he brought me a fresh cup of coffee. I tipped the mug up to my lips and tasted the delicious, bitter flavor, relishing the way it made my bones shiver with excitement. I swear even my taste buds have been improving the last two days. I’m not sure if that’s part of this last hurrah, and it’s certainly not back to what it was before I became sick, but it’s still amazing to taste anything at all. The boldest flavors tasted the best—the nitrate-filled bacon, the sugar-filled cake, the bitter coffee—I was enjoying every second of it.

  “I just got off the phone with the priest Father Jack in Chicago recommended,” my dad said, busying himself with flipping the eggs. “He confirmed for three o’clock. Oh, and I spoke to that reporter, Marley? She says she’s going to help Kyle with the press side of everything. The article’s still popular, and it’s mostly positive responses now. The charity you made that video with, the one you’re donating part of the book proceedings to? They’re working on the legal side, lobbying for the act with your case study and all that.”

  I nodded my head. “Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate it.”

  Not only was my book being bid on by several publishers, but my new agent had guaranteed a portion of its profits would be going to a non-profit charity working to raise awareness of the Death with Dignity Act, as well as lobbying for it federally. I’d filmed a small YouTube video for them, detailing my story and what I thought about the Act, and hundreds of thousands of people had viewed it. I was proud, glad that maybe all I’ve gone through could make a difference for other people.

  But in the grand scheme of things, it was a very minor part of my life. I didn’t want to be a media sensation. I didn’t want to do interviews. I didn’t want to be famous. With so little time left, none of that mattered and I had only promised my time to family and loved ones. I did the video, the article, and I finished the book. That’s all the world would get from me, and I had to hope it was enough.

  “Malaika should be here any minute. She has the papers we need to sign, and she’ll call the funeral home to come pick up…” He swallowed hard, and cleared his throat. “To come pick up the body. They’ll do whatever is needed to ship…” He cleared his throat again. “To Chicago. The cemetery has already been notified and the family plot prepared.”

  He ticked off everything like he was reciting a list of groceries we needed. I appreciated his efficiency because these things needed to happen, and I needed to know someone was taking care of it. Kyle was the last person I wanted to have to deal with this, and Elly was way too fragile. My father was loving—so, so loving—but he was also practical, objective, and non-emotional most of the time. I could trust him to get these things done without falling apart.

  I took another sip of my coffee. “Will I be near Mom?”

  “Not directly next to her. You’re on the other side of my plot, and there’s a few feet of space between. You’ve been there, do you remember?” />
  I nodded. I remembered.

  I’d visited my mother’s grave many times, and I knew our family plot well. Some distant relatives were there, my grandparents, and my mother. There was a space beside her for my father, and several other spaces set aside for me, Elly, and our future generations.

  I’d already told Kyle the spot next to me would always be open to him if he wanted it, but if he remarried and wanted to be buried with his second wife, I wouldn’t hold any hard feelings. I’d already be around my family, and I’d be okay. The rest was just dirt and ashes.

  I don’t know exactly what happens after death, or where you go, but I don’t think you sit around chained to a box under six feet of dirt. I think you’re around the people you love, watching out for them, guiding them, and making sure they feel loved.

  I’d never seen a ghost, but I believed they existed in some form. I’d felt my mother dozens of times over the years. I’d just known somehow that she was nearby, and felt a love and warmth from her presence. I want to be that same comfort for the people I’m leaving behind.

  “Is that spot okay?” My dad glanced at me then flipped an omelet onto a plate and stacked bacon next to it.

  “It’s perfect,” I said, because honestly, it was.

  He’d taken care of everything, and I felt the weight of responsibility lifted from my shoulders. He’d always been my rock, ever since I was a little girl. He’d been my protector, my provider, and the one I sought out for advice when life got hard.

  He was everything to two little girls who had no one else.

  My eyes welled up at the memories and I wondered if there was any way to properly express how grateful I was.

  “You okay, sunshine?” He positioned the plate of delicious smelling food in front of me, and sat in the chair caddy corner from me.

  I nodded my head, then shook it no, then nodded yes again. I didn’t know if I was okay, all I knew was I loved the big, gruff man in front of me. “Thank you, Daddy.”