Infinity: Based on a True Story

by Shanora Williams

  Past

  Four years ago – Max and I

  It was nearing eight the night of our “date” and Max still hadn’t shown up.

  I stepped in front of the mirror, plucking the clumpy pieces of mascara off of my eyelashes and cursing beneath my breath.

  Emilia, my roommate, walked into my room, flipping her wrist and checking her waterproof watch.

  Yes, she was old school. With silver braces, pigtails in her hair, and rainbow pajamas. I loved her for it, though. She was unique, the very reason I allowed her to become my roommate.

  “Wow… you finally score a once in a lifetime date and he doesn’t show? That burns.”

  I looked at her reflection in the mirror, thinning my eyes as she hissed through her teeth. “He’ll show. He has to.” Because he would be stupid to miss the opportunity of having one night with me.

  “He’d better.” Someone knocked on the door as soon as she said that. I already knew who that someone was. Emilia stood tall, eyes wide as if she had some big idea. “Hey, I’m gonna peek around the corner to see him, all right?” It was funny how she could ask a question and be serious but also completely oblivious of how corny she sounded.

  “Em,” I laughed, “you don’t have to sneak to see him. Just come out.”

  “Looking like this?!” she shrieked. “Nah-uh. Fuck that. I’m wearing my mom’s favorite pajamas every night until Aunt Flo passes. I’m bloated and craving nothing but sweets—oh and make sure you get my chocolate cake, too!” She rushed to her room, cracking the door and I shook my head as I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it open.

  Max had a hand pressed on the wall outside the door, towering above me with a subtle smirk on his lips. His nearness caught me off guard and I took a leap back, brows furrowing.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Eavesdropping.” He looked around the room. “Where’s your friend?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  He shrugged, pulling his hand down and sliding his fingertips into the pockets of his black pants. “Tell her there’s nothing wrong with a woman in pajamas on a Friday night.”

  “Yeah,” I scoffed, picking up my satchel off the table, “keep it in your pants, playboy.”

  He chuckled, stepping back and allowing me out. As I pulled out my keys and started to close the door, I spotted Emilia rushing to the living room and mouthing the words, “Oh. My. Fucking. God!”

  I fought a sneer, shutting it rapidly before Max could see her.

  “So,” I sighed, looking at him. “You ready?”

  “Been ready.”

  I walked to his side and we took the stairs down. “Yeah, I don’t think you were ready. It’s five minutes to eight.”

  “I’m not late.” He pressed his lips and shrugged. “I was sitting in my car, watching you mess with your face, check your phone, sigh as you looked into the mirror, and then check your phone again.”

  I stopped walking, frowning up at him. “You have a lot of nerve watching me, Maximilian.” I was hesitant as he fought a laugh. I wasn’t sure whether to be afraid or thrilled that he was. “So you were purposely late?”

  “Just wanted to see if you were prepared for tonight.”

  My lips pressed thin.

  He continued, “And don’t think anything of it. Your curtains were wide open. Kinda hard to miss a woman that looks like you walking back and forth.” He laughed. “Trust me, I’m no stalker, Shakes.”

  I gave him a look full of doubt. “Could’ve fooled me.” I went for the passenger side of his black and silver 2015 Dodge Challenger.

  Seriously, how many cars did he have?

  I waited for him to unlock the doors but he stood a few steps away from the vehicle, looking sexier than ever.

  I hadn’t paid much attention before, but he wore a casual white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his pants not too loose or too tight of a fit.

  He’d gotten his hair shaped-up and cut.

  The sight of him made my mouth want to gush like a waterfall. He was gorgeous, and I was sure he knew it. So casual and still so goddamn beautiful.

  I fidgeted. “We’re going to be late, Max.”

  He watched me, taking a step closer. “Maybe. But I don’t think it’s Crave you’re really looking forward to.” He continued his steps, slowly diminishing the gap between us.

  “How would you know?”

  “Seems you want what comes after it.” He was right there. Right in front of me. “Me, right?”

  He gripped my face in his hands, taking one final step forward and pushing my back against the passenger door.

  “You’re such a cocky bastard, you know that?” My voice had betrayed me. It didn’t come out in the condescending tone I wanted. It came out feeble and husky instead. “I told you what I want…”

  “Yeah? What’s that?” His face came closer.

  “Carrot. Cupcakes…”

  His body vibrated with laughter. “For dinner?”

  “After dinner…”

  “And what else do you want after dinner?”

  He was trying to trap me. The answer was right on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t want to give in… at least, not yet.

  “Answer me, Shannon.” God, the way he said my name. The way his voice changed from low and deep to gruff and demanding made my knees quake.

  “You already know what you’re getting after dinner,” I responded.

  “But is dinner what you want right now?”

  I bit into my bottom lip, feeling the heat of his mouth radiating above mine. “Maybe.”

  “All you have to do is tell me what it is you want and I’ll give it to you…”

  “What are you talking about?” Yeah, that’s right, Shannon. Play dumb.

  He used my words against me. “Don’t kid yourself. You already know what you’re getting.” His mouth crashed down on mine, causing me to stumble sideways. He caught me, holding on tight. In that exact moment, it seemed he held his breath, wanting to capture every small feel—that electricity, that spark. The fireworks bursting around our heads.

  He wasn’t the only one clinging to the sensation. My entire body caught in a blaze— burning, hungry, demanding more. And more is what I got. His tongue danced with mine when my lips parted, allowing him access to a place that hadn’t been shared with anyone else in months.

  He groaned, pushing against me even more, my back arching against the window. My arms came up and hugged around his neck and he picked me up. Immediately, my legs snaked around his narrow waist and a soft moan traveled from me to him.

  I melted into a puddle of warm goo in his arms, feeling every frenzied sensation, every ounce of need, and most of all, how much he wanted this to happen.

  He strained in his pants, the thick hardness thrusting between my legs, creating a wetness that couldn’t be prevented.

  “Fuck,” Max breathed as our kiss broke momentarily.

  Our lips reunited once more, molding, but then the kiss broke again when I asked, “What?” in a breathy whisper.

  “You are damage, Shakes.”

  “Damage?”

  “You are going to destroy me. I can already feel it.”

  I laughed as he tipped his head back to meet my eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  “Look at us,”—he laughed and took a glance around the parking lot. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. At least not yet.”

  “Says the man that started it.”

  “Trust me, I will finish it. But I owe you a carrot cupcake, remember?”

  He carefully placed my feet on the pavement and I adjusted my navy-blue maxi dress, giggling as I looked up. “How about you owe me a fruity drink instead. I could use one… no, actually let’s make it two.”

  He nodded, his right cheek tugging upwards. “You got it, Shakes.”

  I groaned, facing the passenger door. “I swear that name is gonna kill me,” I muttered as he walked to the driver’s side.

  He un
locked the doors and after we climbed in and he brought the engine to life he said, “Get used to it. You’ll be hearing that a lot from now on. As a matter of fact…”—he reached forward, turning the volume of his radio up and pushing a button on the screen to get to satellite radio—“Do a little dance for me. Right now.”

  I burst out laughing, looking at him as if he were insane. “Why?” I squealed.

  “Come on! You want those drinks, don’t you?”

  I tried giving him the evil eye but I couldn’t. I was too busy grinning like a dazed idiot. “You’re serious? Right now?”

  “Yes. Come on! Give me life, Little Shakes!”

  I released another uncontrollable laugh, which caused him to do the same. I lowered my head, shaking it, but he brought his forefinger forward, tipping my chin. Our eyes met, his soft and smiling. “All right. Fine. But this is for the drinks.”

  He nodded, anxious.

  I raised my hands to the roof and shook my hips to L.A. Love by Fergie. Why he was listening to Fergie, I don’t know, but I wasn’t embarrassed to dance for him.

  Don’t get me wrong, he did laugh his ass off at me, stating that the dance I was doing was nothing like the ones I did at the bar, but that was okay.

  Joking around with Max seemed special. It was natural and an instant thing between us. We weren’t taking anything too seriously because we knew seriousness would only hurt us in the end.

  I wish it could have stayed that way.

  I wish we could have kept the jokes high and the seriousness at bay.

  It would have made things a hell of a lot easier later on.

  Chapter Eight

  Present

  A bouquet of red and white roses appear at the doorway and a large smile spreads across my lips as John’s head pops around them, a grin taking over his face.

  “You didn’t,” I gasp with sarcasm.

  “I did!” He returns the sarcasm, placing the vase on the countertop across from me. Strange, the area he places them in blocks me from seeing myself in the mirror. A part of me is pleased about that; the other part is upset. For what reason, I will never know.

  “So,”—I try sitting up but a sharp pain runs under my ribs. I wince and John rushes for me. I stop him before he can grab me. “I’m okay.”

  “Sure?”

  I nod. “Just some body aches. Haven’t taken anything for it yet.”

  “I take it the OPX didn’t go do so well this time.”

  “Not. At. All.” I blow out a breath.

  “It’s a new formula, babe.” He walks forward, cupping the back of my head and kissing the top of it. Heat glides through my veins, bringing me to a mild boil. “Dr. David said it’d take a while for you to get used to the changes.”

  “Yeah… I guess.” I look up at him and instead of turning the mood down I crank it back up again. I take the attention off of me, and the not-new information that I have an incurable disease. “So,” I start again, grabbing the blue pillow Sonya knitted for me and hugging it against my chest, “How was work? Did you create a lot of new meals? New customers? Give me the scoop!”

  John sighs, taking the chair next to the bed. “Work was fucking terrible.”

  My smile drops. “What do you mean? What happened?”

  “I couldn’t seem to focus. I burned three plates of fish. Got one of the main specials for a large party completely wrong and had to start from scratch. They weren’t pleased about the wait time so they ended up eating for free. Lorenzo isn’t too pleased about that. That was a good chunk of money he could’ve had from them. And he would’ve gotten it if I wasn’t being such an airhead chef.”

  “No… Stop it.” I grab his hand, stroking the back of it with the pad of my thumb. “You’re just stressed and worried, baby. Everything will be fine once I’m go—” I clamp my mouths shut and John’s head lifts, his eyes connecting with mine.

  Tears line the bottom rim and my heart aches as I witness the pain that lies within them. “I don’t get why you say that…” His voice cracks. “You say it like you’re ready to go on.”

  The air in the room thickens around me. I have the urge to be a coward, look away so he won’t see the truth in my eyes, but I don’t. I just watch his glistening eyes in hopes that he’ll finally understand… but of course he doesn’t. He never will.

  “Why? I just don’t understand why you won’t fight anymore. There’s a chance you can still beat this thing, Shannon.”

  “A very slim chance, baby.”

  “Slim or not, it’s a chance.” He scoots his chair forward, squeezing my hand. “You know what I believe?”

  “What?” I whisper, voice thick.

  “I believe you came into my life for a reason. You weren’t meant to come into it and then leave after two and a half years. That can’t be right. God wouldn’t punish me like this without a reward, not after all I’ve been through.”

  “His own son was sacrificed, John. What makes you think he can’t do the same to me?”

  He gave me a serious look, sitting back and releasing my hand. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m just saying maybe this is happening to you because he knows you can handle it…”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “That’s because you haven’t experienced it before… not with someone you’re in love with.”

  “Exactly,” he says hurriedly, sitting forward again with desperate blue eyes. “You’re my wife. We just got married and technically we’re still considered newlyweds. Why take that all away? Why make me suffer now after being miserable for so many years? My parents were enough to endure. Shannon, baby, if you keep fighting anything can happen. Any kind of chance shouldn’t be taken for granted.”

  His eyes are hopeful. It kills me. It’s unbearable, knowing that he won’t be able to let go. What’s going to happen to him when I do die? Will he give up? Keep fighting? Will he ever love again or will he wind up being an old, bitter man that doesn’t believe in the word love.

  “I’m not meant to be here, Johnny.” My voice is barely a whisper. I can barely hear it myself over the machines, but I know what I said.

  And, clearly, he understands as well because he sighs, shutting his eyes for a very brief moment and then popping them open again.

  Sitting back, John runs his hand down his face, blowing out a breath as his hands drop to his lap.

  “I’m not giving up on you.”

  “I know,” I murmur.

  He looks at me, his head turning slightly. “No, I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to push me away but I won’t let it happen. You can’t. I’m here to stay, and if you believe you’re not meant to be here then I will sit right beside this bed every single day until you draw your last—” He chokes up, catching himself. Look at him. He can’t even say it. “Your last breath.”

  His hesitation is understandable. He’s trying to accept what the future holds, but also preserve a little hope. John, he’s a firm believer in God. I like that about him because it’s kept him humble and in the right state of mind.

  Which is why I know I will die soon. Because although he thinks he can’t handle it, he can. He will move on. Get stronger. Wiser. Better. He will accept it and move forward with his life, maybe not within the first few months, but eventually. He’ll have to. They say He never puts us through anything we can’t handle. That, I believe.

  I will admit that I lost some of my faith a long time ago. Especially when my disease attacked during our honeymoon. I prayed every morning, afternoon, evening, and night for my health. A better future. My life.

  The first time, it started in my living room, with me coughing dangerously hard and no one around. I rushed myself to the hospital, hoping I didn’t wreck while spewing up half of my fucking lung.

  It went away a month later. Almost like there were never any black spots on my lung—like I was perfectly healthy. It just vanished and I thought I was out scot-free.

  But the next time was way worse. It was
months later, when John and I had been dating quite a while. It was dramatic. I hated that it even happened, but the good I got out of it was John’s loyalty. His faith and positive attitude during it all.

  The OP hit me again when I turned twenty-four and had just gotten married. It progressed to a much later stage after eight months.

  It came back way worse than I ever thought possible.

  That day is what really made me, Shannon Hales-Streeter, the girl without a future.

  Chapter Nine

  Past

  A year and a half ago – John & I

  “John, come on!” I gestured for him to hurry as I pulled open the glass door.

  John fixed the silver watch on his wrist, shuffling forward as fast as possible in his dress pants and shirt. He was doing his best to keep up with me.

  Not that our age difference mattered—we were only four years apart and he kept himself in great shape—but he had a more mature mindset than I did, plus I had way more energy.

  I was only twenty-four, he twenty-eight, and after dating for two wonderful years, we decided to get hitched.

  The cruise was a spur of the moment kind of thing and I didn’t have many friends that were free, so I chose Sonya and her boyfriend to tag alone. I didn’t want a regular honeymoon with just the two of us, and neither did John, surprisingly. We were okay with company.

  At first I thought I was too young for marriage—that I needed more time—but John was with me through it all, fighting for me, paying off some of my debts though I’d repeatedly rejected his help, and being my comfort whenever I needed it. Plus he cooked the most amazing meals for me, most times without me having to ask.

  I knew he was the one that could truly make me happy and support me no matter what and that’s what I needed most after all I’d been through in life. It’s what we both needed. So I didn’t hesitate to say yes when he knelt down on one knee on a ferry ride in New York City.

  “Babe, you’ve gotta slow down.” He met me at the door, slipping an arm around my waist and reeling me into him, his warm lips pressing on my neck. My body warmed up and I felt a fluttery sensation at the pit of my belly as he whispered in my ear, “Save some of that energy for later.”