A Love to Live For

by Heart, Nikita

  “I see,” he said. “What was your work again?”

  “I work as a freelance book illustrator.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “It is, but this time, one of my clients didn’t like the style of my illustrations so I have to start all over again.”

  “Really? That’s a little mean.”

  I shrugged. “If the client doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it. There’s nothing I can do but make the illustrations again until he likes them.”

  “So basically, you get clients online, then you do illustrations for them and send them back?”

  I nodded.

  “Why not work for a publishing company? That way, you have regular work and regular pay.”

  “Do you know how hard it is to get a job at a publishing company?”

  He grinned. “I know a friend who happens to hold a high position in one in Philadelphia.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I can ask him if they have a vacancy for book illustrators.”

  I smiled then looked away. “That would be nice, but that would mean I’d have to leave Continental, though, right and live there in Philadelphia.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for that, but thanks for offering anyway.”

  He smiled. For a moment, he was silent. Then, he spoke again. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Yes?”

  “You used to like me, didn’t you?”

  I laughed, then covered my cheeks in embarrassment. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

  He gave a chuckle of his own.

  “But yes, I did,” I decided to admit it. “As I’m sure many of the other girls did,” I added to make it sound less embarrassing.

  “Can I ask why?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “You might get too full of yourself.”

  He chuckled again, then his expression became slightly serious. “I’m sorry I never noticed.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s not your fault.”

  He paused before speaking again. “Can I tell you something?”

  I nodded.

  “The reason I came back was not just to help my brother but mostly because I’m trying to get over a heartache.”

  That puzzled me for a little bit, since I could not imagine someone as good-looking as Vincent being heartbroken but I said nothing.

  “I just broke off my engagement to Lizzie after I learned she was cheating on me.”

  “Oh.” I patted him on the back instinctively. “That’s sad, but I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

  We started talking about Lizzie then and after a while, I realized that I had never really known the guy I had a crush on. I knew I would still like him, though, if I wasn’t already going out with Joseph and I offered to be his friend, seeing that he needed one at the moment.

  After our conversation, he drove me home and before I got out of his truck, he held my hand.

  “Thank you, Rebecca.”

  I nodded. “Thank you, too.”

  I hopped out of his truck and he did the same, the two of us getting my bike down from the back of his truck.

  Then, he said, “Are you sure you don’t have a crush on me anymore? Because if you do, I think I’d love to go out with you.”

  I smiled, flattered at his proposal, but shook my head. “Yup, I’m sure I don’t have a crush on you anymore.”

  “I’m too late, huh?” he said half jokingly. “Well, if ever you and Joseph don’t work out, maybe you can give me a call.”

  I said nothing, simply watching him as he got into his truck and drove away. In the past, I would have been thrilled by such an offer, thrilled enough to jump up and down or dance around in my room just by knowing he was interested in me.

  Right now, though I was in love with Joseph and so Vincent’s words meant nothing. Sure, Vincent was kind and sweet in his own way, but he was not Joseph, the man I chose to fall in love with in spite of his condition.

  Not that I had much of a choice.

  I looked up at the starry skies and the moon that was slowly being shrouded by a patch of thick clouds, suddenly wondering what Joseph was doing at the moment. Was he already asleep? Or was he awake, thinking of me, too?

  I suddenly had a vision of the two of us lying on the grass side by side, holding hands and looking up at the stars together, and I smiled.

  We still had many wonderful memories to make and I couldn’t wait for him to come home so that we could really start.

  Chapter Eight

  Joseph came back a week later.

  Although I was a little disappointed that he did not call me the whole time he was away, only sending me a few messages that were not particularly detailed or affectionate, I became excited to see him as soon as I received his message that said he was on his way home. I even baked some muffins to celebrate his return. Then, when he was near, I went to his house to wait for him there, wanting to be the first one to welcome him back home.

  As soon as he saw me, he smiled and I went over to hug him. After a few minutes of talking to him, though, I realized that something had changed.

  Joseph had changed, and not exactly for the better.

  I couldn’t put a finger on just what had changed, though. No matter how long I stared at him or how many times I sneaked glances at him when he wasn’t looking, he still looked the same. Still, there was something in his eyes and in his voice that was different, almost as if they were sadder or more hesitant. Then, there was the fact that he now paused more frequently when he spoke and tended to space out more when he wasn’t speaking, making me feel as if I was talking to an empty shell. And when I told him about all the things I wanted us to do together, which I had thought about hard and long while he was away, just to make the most of his remaining time, he didn’t seem the least bit enthusiastic. Yes, he smiled and said it was a good idea but I did not feel any sincerity at all.

  When I asked him if anything was wrong, he quickly said that he was alright, perhaps a little too quickly. He didn’t seem to want to talk about his trip, either, saying only that he went to see his doctor, and when I asked what the doctor had told him, he said that the doctor had simply suggested on him undergoing a new kind of treatment, which he declined.

  Even as I listened to him carefully, I knew that he was not telling the truth, or at least, that he was keeping something from me, something important that he was afraid to let me know. Perhaps it was my female intuition but I just knew.

  Whatever it was, he seemed intent on hiding it from me, and not wanting to start a confrontation and force the truth from him, I decided to try to get the information by some other means. First, I asked his sister and when she, too, didn’t tell me anything, although she was even poorer at hiding her emotions and so confirmed my suspicion that there was something Joseph was not telling me, I decided to call up Dr. Penning’s office, finding the number for his clinic online.

  The receptionist, however, would not divulge any information, saying that it would be against the medical code of ethics, and wouldn’t even let me speak to Dr. Penning, whom she claimed was a very busy man, and so I had nothing to go on.

  Deprived of information, my imagination started running and after reviewing what little information I had so far, a suspicion formed in my head – the suspicion that Joseph did not have much time left.

  It made perfect sense.

  After all, the fact that one was about to die soon was certainly depressing, even for someone like him who claimed he had already left his fate in God’s hands and was prepared to die, and it would explain why Joseph did not seem too keen on doing the things I had suggested. He simply didn’t have enough time left for them.

  What I couldn’t understand was why he wouldn’t tell me. Surely, I deserved the right to know? True, he probably just didn’t want to hurt me by telling me the truth, but his silence was even more hurtful. I was well aware of the common saying that when you couldn’t say anything good, it wa
s better to be silent but I had always believed that silence, especially when there were words that needed to be said, could be extremely hurtful, and that was the case now.

  For a moment, I wanted to cry, both from the pain of knowing he was dying soon – I was fully convinced of my suspicion now – and the pain of his silence, but I took a deep breath and held the tears back. Now was not the time for tears or resentment. More than ever, I needed to be there for Joseph and to make him feel special, to make him feel loved so that he would die happy.

  But what exactly was I going to do?

  A glance at the calendar on my desk gave me my answer. Next week was Joseph’s birthday and there and then, I decided I would make it the most memorable, the best birthday anyone could ever have. It could likely be Joseph’s last, after all.

  Yes, I was going to make his birthday the best birthday ever.

  As soon as I had finished redoing my illustrations for my client and sending them off, I set to work planning for Joseph’s birthday.

  I quickly found out that it was not an easy task and there was so much to do but I was not going to give up.

  The first real obstacle I came across was deciding whether to have a small and simple intimate birthday party or the whole caboodle. I initially leaned towards the first, thinking that Joseph might prefer it but decided to go with the second. If it was going to be his last birthday, then it might as well be the grandest celebration.

  Usually, people did not spend too much on birthdays or even did not celebrate them sometimes because there was always that thought of a next birthday or more birthdays to come, but when you only had one birthday left, then it was only proper for it to be really special.

  Indeed, I was going to invite everyone Joseph knew, including friends from high school and the friends he met in Middleton – I did not know exactly who they were but I was determined to find out, even if it meant taking a trip to Middleton myself and asking at the restaurant where Joseph used to work.

  I debated on whether or not to invite his parents – this was my second obstacle. Both of them no longer lived in Continental, after all, instead living with their second families. I knew, too, that Joseph did not really get along with them, as if he had never really gotten over his resentment towards them for getting a divorce, and so he would not be pleased to see them. Still, I decided it was only right to invite them. Joseph was still their son, after all, and inviting them would mean giving Joseph the perfect opportunity to reconcile with them, which he certainly would want to do if he wanted to die peacefully.

  Deciding whether or not to invite Stephanie was problematic, too, but deciding not to be selfish or jealous, I wrote her name down on my guest list anyway.

  After I had completed the guest list, I proceeded on choosing a venue – my third big decision. I couldn’t have Joseph’s birthday party at his house, after all, since it was meant to be a surprise and I couldn’t have it at our house, either, because it simply wasn’t big enough to hold the thirty people I was inviting. In the end, I decided to ask my old high school if I could rent out the auditorium for a small price – I was paying for things out of my own savings, after all. Mrs. Meyer, the principal was reluctant, but after I let her in on the big secret, which I felt I was compelled to, she agreed.

  With the venue decided, all I had left to do was buy or make the decorations, discuss the menu with the caterer, order a birthday cake and hire a DJ to inject life into the party with excellent music. The latter three were relatively easy but the first one turned out to be harder than I thought, easier said than done. Still, a day before Joseph’s birthday, I managed to finish all the paper decorations and banners and order the balloons, and though I was very tired, I felt happy and proud of what I had accomplished.

  Most of all, I couldn’t wait to see the surprised and amazed look on Joseph’s face when he walked into his birthday party.

  “What’s going on, Rebecca?” Joseph asked as I pulled him out of the car and led him towards the auditorium in a blindfold. “I noticed you’ve been acting strange lately, but now, you’re really scaring me.”

  “There’s nothing to be scared of,” I assured him. “It’s just a little something I put together just for you.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “But I wanted to,” I told him.

  He stopped walking. “Rebecca, I don’t think…”

  “Don’t think,” I told him. “Just come with me. Please?”

  He was still for a moment, then nodded. We walked the rest of the way to the auditorium in silence. Then, when we arrived at the entrance, I led him past the doors and took off his blindfold.

  “Surprise!” I shouted along with everyone.

  The resulting look on Joseph’s face, however, was not what I had expected.

  He looked around the auditorium with more shock than surprise and when that faded, I sensed his frustration, his anger even, although he tried not to show it and smiled as he greeted his guests.

  I was annoyed, of course, that he didn’t seem to appreciate all of the time and money I had spent just to come up with the surprise party, but I told myself he was probably just a little embarrassed by it all and that he would eventually come to his senses. When that happened, he would thank me for everything with tears of joy and everything would be worthwhile.

  Yes, I would simply wait for the whole thing to sink in and for him to realize just how hard I had worked to make the whole party happen, and then everything would be perfect. Or so I thought.

  After a few minutes, it was clear that he was not about to break into tears of joy or even hug me in appreciation. It seemed as if he was avoiding me, in fact. And when his parents arrived, things got worse.

  As soon as he saw them, he approached them and at first, I rejoiced, thinking that he was going to hug them or at least, thank them for coming, but then, I noticed his expression and I knew trouble was brewing, which was I quickly ran after him, though not quickly enough.

  “What are the two of you doing here?” he asked them, sneering.

  “Happy birthday, Joseph,” his mother said with a smile, ignoring his rude greeting. She moved to hug him but he stepped away.

  “I asked what you were doing here.”

  “But we were invited to your birthday,” his mother said.

  “By who?” Joseph asked.

  “By me,” I said, stepping forward. “I thought it might be a good idea for you them to see you and for you to…”

  “Well, it’s not a good idea,” he cut me off, the contempt in his voice now directed at me. “None of this is.”

  He walked out the door and after telling everyone to continue with the party and reassuring his parents that everything would be alright, I ran after Joseph, finding him sitting at the bench under a tree with his hand clasped to his forehead.

  “Joseph…”

  “You just had to do it, didn’t you?” he sneered at me. “You just had to meddle with my life and throw a big, silly party for me. And as if that’s not enough, you went ahead and invited my parents. What on earth were you thinking?”

  “Well, pardon me for thinking a big, silly party would do you some good,” I told him, trying to control the anger that was surging inside me. “Did you think I did all this for myself? That I spent all this money and worked so many late nights just for my own sake? I did all of this for you.”

  “And I never asked you to,” Joseph said. “Don’t you get it? You’re being selfish again, throwing a party for me just because it would make you happy.”

  “I did not throw this party to make me happy,” I said, my voice and my temper rising. “I threw this party so that you would be happy.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “So that your last birthday would be something really special and so you could…die with fond memories and few regrets…”

  “But I’m not dying!” he shouted.

  For a moment, I just looked at him as the words registered in my mind, not knowing how to react to
what he had just said, or how to make sense of it.

  “What did you just say?”

  He sighed and slapped his forehead. “I’m not dying, Rebecca. The doctor said there was some mistake with the records. My tumor was not malignant. It was not cancerous. It was benign, and now that it’s been removed, I’m okay.”

  I froze again, gaping as I tried to understand what he was telling me. “So you’re not dying?”

  “No,” he said. “So there was no need for you to…”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” The anger swelled within me. “Why couldn’t you just have told me the truth?”

  “I wanted to,” he said. “But I didn’t know how.”

  “You could have just told me!”

  “I was afraid, okay,” he said, his voice rising as well. “I was afraid that I would lose you once I told you I was well. After all, you never told me you liked me. You were only sticking it out with me because…”

  “How dare you presume to know how I feel!” I interrupted him, feeling the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes. “So you were just going to keep me in the dark forever? Do you know how much pain I felt every time I thought about you dying?”

  “What would it have mattered to you? You like Vincent, after all, don’t you? And from what I’ve heard he seems to like you now, too.”

  “Don’t you dare bring anyone else into this.”

  He ignored me. “You went out with Vincent, didn’t you?”

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” I told him. “And I don’t feel like explaining it to you right now.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “This is not about me. It’s about you. You lied to me. You made a fool out of me.”

  “I was going to tell you.”

  “When? Next month? Next year?”

  He said nothing.

  “Well, let me tell you something.” I felt the first tear streak down my cheek, but ignored it. “You hid the truth from me, betrayed me, because you were afraid to lose me. Well, you just lost me, and the saddest thing about all this…is that I loved you.”