Every Last Drop

by Sarah Robinson

  My doctors were there, albeit briefly, and told me how strong I was, how impressed they were with my resilience. Dr. Morales even checked my leg and confirmed what I’d already guessed—it wasn’t going to get any better. Delores returned and took a picture of her and I together, promising to get it framed and hung in her crooked-floor house.

  Everyone said goodbye, but no one actually said goodbye. It was under their words, but no one wanted the finality that today truly meant. I wouldn’t see the majority of these people again. That was a fact. I wasn’t getting better. Things were going downhill fast, and I felt it. I felt the cloudiness, a looming presence, waiting. Waiting to take me, for the last inhale, the last of me.

  So, I said the goodbyes instead, even when they averted their eyes and said they’d see me later or ’til next time. I said goodbye. Because it was, and because I had to, and because I wanted each of them to know that it was okay. I’d led a good life, and I was happy, and now I just wanted to say goodbye.

  At a few minutes before midnight, Kyle and Elly passed out kazoos and confetti and everyone prepped to ring in the “new year” with me. Kyle handed me a small paper box, and I opened it to find several long-awaited sugar-covered Fried Oreos inside. I cried and stuffed my mouth full of chocolatey fried goodness, offering one to Dr. Page as promised. Dixie rolled enough blunts for everyone, and I tried my first, blowing smoke out onto Lake Champlain.

  Then, at midnight, I kissed my husband until both of our faces were covered in powdered sugar. And that’s how I rang in the “new year.”

  Sugar-covered kisses, and my mother-in-law’s love center weed.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Sunday, September 28, 2014

  * * *

  The jets from the Jacuzzi splashed around me, easing the pain from my muscles as I stared out at the lake.

  To call the last three weeks a whirlwind would be an understatement, but I barely paid it any attention. Life got busy, and the world became interested in me, but the feeling wasn’t mutual. I understood the article about me upset people. I got it. I really did. Death was upsetting. Facing your own mortality was upsetting—and that’s what the article about me forced readers to do. But death is a lot like birth—you’re afraid at first, and then you’re not.

  I listened to Malaika’s fears about giving birth. A gigantic baby was growing in that tiny woman, and the only way it was coming out looked less than pleasant. Hell, I was scared for her—or rather, I was scared for her lady bits. But closer to her due date, Malaika changed.

  She was ready—more than ready—and suddenly the possibility of hours and hours of painful, lady-bit-destroying labor didn’t sound nearly as bad as having that baby kick her ribs all day, or not being able to find a position to sleep in, or the fact that she kept mismatching her shoes because she couldn’t see them on her feet.

  She wanted to hold her baby, no matter what she had to face beforehand. And wasn’t that what death was? A new chapter, or maybe an epilogue…I’m ready to write my epilogue.

  I had another seizure that morning—I didn’t know how many I’d had at this point. I stopped counting two weeks ago. Beast had begun to alert me to them now, which was actually really helpful. When he started barking at me out of the blue, I’d go sit down somewhere my head wouldn’t smash against the floor, or a table’s edge, or God knew what else. Every once in a while, the barking was just because he was bored and wanted to fuck with me, but nine times out of ten, he sensed (maybe smelled? I don’t know how it works.) the seizure coming.

  “Tessa?” Kyle’s head popped into the bathroom.

  I barely glanced up from the bath. “Mmm?”

  He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you think you’ll want dinner? What if I made soup—really light?”

  I took a deep breath, assessing my nausea level. I didn’t feel like hacking up my guts at the moment, so I nodded. “Yeah, soup sounds good.”

  “Thank goodness.” He smiled and leaned over the tub, kissing my forehead.

  I reached out to squeeze his hand. “Why ‘thank goodness’?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been worried. You’re barely eating.”

  “I’m working on my bikini body,” I teased.

  That made him roll his eyes. “I hope fucking not, babe.”

  I just grinned, not letting on if I was kidding. I couldn’t wear a bikini now even if I wanted to. I didn’t have the curves to hold it up, and my skin had already begun to cave in on me as the weight and muscle mass dropped off. There wasn’t one particular reason, more like fifteen—food tasted like nothing, it sat in my stomach heavy and unforgiving, nausea was a constant struggle even if I was just having a glass of water, and the list went on and on.

  “Are you getting out of the bath soon?” he asked.

  “Ish.”

  “The soup will be ready when you come down.”

  I gave him an appreciative smile before he retreated. Pulling the plug out of the bottom of the tub with my toes, I then dropped it onto the floor of the bath. The water slowly drained from around me, a loud swirling noise filling my ears for several minutes. I sat still and let the water level lower, my skin breaking out in tiny bumps from the chill of the air.

  Once it was finally empty, I pulled myself up and sat on the edge before swinging my legs around to the tile floor. Grabbing at my cane, I hobbled to my robe and wrapped it around my body.

  When my hands slid through the thick, plush sleeves, I realized my fingers on one hand were tingling. I stared at them, flexing my hand and trying to wiggle them. They moved—slowly—but all I felt was tingling. I grabbed the door knob, but my hand wouldn’t grip it.

  I balanced carefully against the bathroom counter and used the hand I’d been holding the cane with to open the door instead. I changed quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed and using one hand to pull on pants and an oversized sweater.

  Beast came rushing into the room and rubbed against my legs, but moved out of the way when I stood to head down for dinner, my slowly numbing hand tucked into pocket.

  It was almost time. I was almost ready.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Tuesday, September 30, 2014

  * * *

  “Happy Birthday, Tessa,” my husband’s soft lilt roused me to consciousness, his head burrowed in the crook of my neck.

  “Mmm,” I sighed, caressing his shoulder with my hand. “Thanks, babe.”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  “I’m catching up to you,” I teased, despite the circumstances.

  He didn’t say anything, but I felt him swallow, which made me feel slightly guilty. This was a tough time—there was no way to tiptoe around it. Everything I said was morbid, whether I meant it to be or not.

  He kissed my cheek, and I turned my face to his. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and we kissed for another few minutes. When we pressed our bodies together, a yelp came from under the covers and Beast shoved his nose up between us, making his presence known.

  I laughed. “Morning, Beast.”

  “Damn dog,” Kyle groaned. “Come downstairs when you’re ready, okay? I’m going to make you breakfast. Malaika should be here soon for your vitals.”

  “Okay.”

  “Or call if you need me to carry you down,” he added, climbing out of bed and searching the floor for his boxers.

  I waited for him to leave before getting up myself. He was right that the stairs were getting to be a little too much of a safety issue for me, but I could still walk around with the help of the cane or scoot down them on my butt.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the full-length mirror across from me. I was so small. Not in a skinny or short kind of way—though I was both. My presence, the aura around me that made me…me, it was small and unassuming. Like my body was already beginning to retreat from the world.

  I’d gone to visit Dr. Morales on Friday for the results of my latest scans. No one was surprised when the images revealed
a body riddled with cancer, but I was surprised at the sheer amount. It seemed like there was more cancer than…well, me.

  The doctor upped some of my pain medications, as well as adding in some others to hopefully assist my symptoms—the balance, nausea, aches, etc. It was exhausting.

  Pulling on a light tee shirt with a pair of jeans multiple sizes smaller than I’d ever thought I’d fit, I examined myself in the mirror. Clothed, it wasn’t as jarring. My hands and face showed how I sick I was, but the clothes hid a lot. My hair was longer and thicker, more lustrous, tickling the bottom of my chin. I slid a hand through it and relished the softness I’d missed.

  Cane in hand, I moved into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Absentmindedly, I opened the drawer to the right of the sink and double checked that the two bottles I needed were still there. Those two little pill bottles were everything. I had taken up routinely glancing in the drawer, kind of like a security blanket.

  Still there. Still my choice.

  I was in control, despite having just dropped my toothbrush in the sink because my fingers went numb. Cupping my hands as best as I could, I rinsed my mouth and put back my toothbrush. My fingers tingled, but it wasn’t any worse than before. I hadn’t mentioned it to Kyle, and I probably wouldn’t. There was nothing numb about what he was going through.

  “Tessa?” Malaika’s voice came from my bedroom.

  “In here,” I called out, seating myself on the padded stool in front of the bathroom counter. I began pulling out compacts, eye shadows, and powders from my makeup bag. I hadn’t worn any in months. There had never been a reason why, but there wasn’t a reason why not either.

  “Hey girl,” she said, waddling into the bathroom and dropping her bag on the counter next to me. “What’re you doing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear makeup.”

  I shrugged. “I usually don’t. Just felt like it today.”

  “Oh, cool. I love makeup.” She gestured to her face. Being this close, I could see the thick layer of makeup, but she made it look so natural. “Contouring is life. I swear—game changer.”

  “I tried contouring a few times, followed some online tutorials, but I looked ridiculous,” I admitted sheepishly. “I don’t think I did it right. You pull it off so much better than me.”

  “Thanks.” Malaika moved her shoulders back and forth, like a fun, little shake. She began pulling a blood pressure cuff up my arm and I tried with my free hand to swirl powder onto my cheeks, but my fingers were still tingling and I kept dropping the brush.

  Malaika definitely noticed, but didn’t say anything, finishing taking my blood pressure instead. “So, how are you feeling?” she finally asked.

  I sighed and held up my hand. “My leg feels barely there, and now my arm is doing the same.”

  “Your entire arm?” She examined me and massaged my forearm lightly.

  I shook my head. “Not the whole arm, but it’s getting that way.”

  “Well, how about I do your makeup today?”

  I glanced at her. “Really? Don’t you have other patients to see after me?”

  “Sure, but it doesn’t take too long. I’m a pro, remember?” She gestured to her face again.

  I chuckled lightly. “Well, if you don’t mind, that would be great.”

  We spent the next ten minutes with me seated quietly while she colored my face. There’s something about someone softly touching and caressing your face that eases your entire body—it was relaxing as hell.

  When we were done, I surveyed her work in the mirror and was impressed. Somehow, she’d managed to make me look less pale, a little fuller, and darkened my features that had been fading away. “Wow, Malaika.”

  “You like?” she asked.

  I nodded. “I love it. Thank you!”

  She clapped her hands. “Fantastic. I can do it again tomorrow if you want, and every day after that!”

  “That would be nice,” I told her, then caught myself. “Well, um…for the next two days.”

  Malaika’s expression switched from elated to somber. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “Two days?”

  “Two days.” I’d already decided. Now I just had to figure out how to tell my family.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Tuesday, September 30, 2014

  * * *

  “Babe?” I walked out onto the patio holding two plates of colorful, icing covered birthday cake strategically balanced in one hand. “Want a second slice?”

  “Sure.” Kyle grinned, knowing full well I had wanted the second piece, but hadn’t wanted to eat it alone. He jumped up to grab the plates from me, since I was struggling to hold those in one hand and the cane in the other.

  We all make sacrifices for cake. Don’t judge me.

  “You seem pretty energetic today,” he noted, as we ate our second dessert.

  I was seated on the end of the lounge chair facing him where he sat at the top. “It is my birthday. Can’t a girl be in a good mood?”

  “Did I already tell you ‘happy birthday’?” He leaned forward and left an icing-smeared kiss on my cheek.

  I grinned. “Like a million times.”

  We’d already had a big birthday dinner, and everyone had given me sweet, sentimental gifts, plus this huge cake. I’d actually eaten a large first slice, but it was a few hours later and I wanted more. I was surprised as hell that I could even taste it or stomach it, but I could and it was delicious. So sugary, so perfect.

  “Well, happy birthday for the millionth and one time,” he said. “It was a good one.”

  Dinner had ended hours ago, and both my dad and my sister had gone to bed. I’d noticed Kyle sitting out on the patio when I’d gone to get a glass of water from the kitchen. I’d watched him for a minute, wondering if I should interrupt his private moment. He’d looked so sad, so full of grief, and his lips were moving ever so slightly like he was talking to someone. His head was turned toward the sky, and I’d realized he was praying.

  My husband was praying. And I knew in my gut, it was for me.

  So, I prayed, too—right there in the kitchen. I prayed my thanks that God ever put a man like Kyle in my life. It had never been hard between us—except to be apart. He was as much a part of me, as I was of him. He’d given me a beautiful birthday present—an agent to sell my book. He’d apparently been sending queries out for months with Marley’s help, and once the article went viral, they quickly responded. Someone wanted to represent my book, and sell it to a publisher.

  He’d done his research—this agent was one of the best, a pioneer among women in her field. She’d taken over her agency when her mentor passed away, and she’d even named her daughter in her mentor’s honor. Her integrity shown through everyone’s adoration of her, and she had always been my number one pick for an agent. The fact that she wanted me—or rather, my book—was an absolute dream come true.

  And Kyle had given me that dream.

  When I finished my cake, I leaned over and put my plate next to his on the ground. He’d always eaten so much faster than me.

  His legs were draped off opposite sides of the chair, so I crawled between them and leaned my back against his chest. His arms circled me and rested in my lap, tangling his fingers with mine. I looked across at the lake, dark and swirling under the night sky with only stars to illuminate the water’s movements.

  “Tessa?” His voice was so hesitant, I had to look at him to see what was wrong.

  Shadows cast over his face that had nothing to do with the darkness of tonight.

  “You’re ready, aren’t you?” There was no inflection at the end of his sentence. He already knew my answer.

  I returned my gaze to the lake, settling my head against the front of his shoulder. “I’m ready.”

  “How long?”

  I exhaled slowly. “Two days.”

  “Two days,” he repeated. Kyle held me tighter, the breeze crossing our skin together. “I’m going to miss you, Tessa.”

  “I know,” I whispere
d, squeezing my eyes shut.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” he said, his voice catching on his last word. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.”

  I clutched his hand in mine, rubbing my thumb rhythmically over his palm. “Don’t say goodbye. Just ‘I love you’. That’s all we need to say.”

  “I love you, Tessa. All my love.”

  “Show me,” I said quietly, tilting my face toward his.

  His mouth found mine, needy and wanting. It was passionate and sweet, and I rotated completely to face him, scrambling with his help to climb on his lap, chest to chest. His arms wrapped around me, pinning me to him. The kiss was perfect, and beautiful, but I wanted more. If the end was coming, I wanted to spend it in love, and making love.

  “Show me,” I coaxed him further, my voice a throaty moan against his lips.

  He lifted my hips until I was standing next to the lounge chair, balancing myself, even though I didn’t need to since he was holding me. My fingers flew to the top of my pants and I shoved them down my legs, along with my panties. Bringing me back to straddle him, I undid his pants and freed him. Our lips locked once again as he pushed inside me.

  “I love you, Tessa,” he growled in my ear, his hands on my hips, lifting and lowering me on him—hard enough to make my body tingle, but gentle enough not to hurt me. “I love you so fucking much. I’ll always love you, Tessa.”

  “I love you, Kyle,” I replied breathlessly. “Always.”

  A few more strokes and we were both feeling our ascension, clutching each other tightly and whispering again and again and again how much we loved each other. Every bit of strength we’d been holding on to was worn away. The realness and vulnerability of this moment tore at our armors until there was nothing left. Our bodies and hearts were completely overwhelmed, and we shattered.

  We shattered, and every pretense fell with us.