I knew it. I knew it was going to happen this way. That's why I bought the stock. That's why I forced the issue with her as we walked down the garden path that day, and as we lived. That's why I never gave up until she was fading. I never let myself know it until that last day, when I held her hand like some wilted lilly in mine, and looked into her eyes. My reflection didn't come back from them. It was sucked in, and stopped. She was sinking into it, drowning in that black silk. Before she slipped through, she grabbed onto my heart.
I never knew what to say, but I always said too much. Commenting on her dress lead to asking why it hung off of her so, and why her pale skin was thinning out like some strange fog moving off of her body. Why was her hair so thin? Why did her lips draw back and push against her teeth like that? Why weren't her bruises healing?
"Are you okay? Are you feeling well? Honey?"
I told her I loved her. Every day, sometimes every hour. And I asked too many questions, but always the wrong ones. There are things I never asked, and yet I know if I had, she wouldn't have known how to answer. Why are you leaving me? What have I done? Why can't I help you? Why does God want you so bad, that's he's taking you from me?
During that last year, I don't remember sleeping at all. I would lie awake and listen to the ragged breaths. With each inhalation, I would thank God. And there was a silence in between that would linger a bit too long, and make me squirm. After that amarynthine second, her chest would lift and air would whipser into her. And I'd thank God again.
I prayed more in the last six months than I ever have in all other times of my life. I talked to God ceaselessly. It seems as if he would have stopped taking my calls after a while.
"Just this one man on earth, vaguely successful, who hasn't done much with his life. And the woman he loves has fallen ill. He's no more important than any of the others. He hasn't called any souls home to me. He only came back because he knows that I'm taking her from him. They always stray when I've blessed them, but they come back when they realize the blessing is running out."
I could feel His disapproval, but I prayed through it. I prayed for a redemption, for His forgiveness. I pleaded with Him to leave her with me. But every day, as I looked upon her I knew that I had lost another ounce of her. I was not convincing Him to let her stay. He was convincing her that she needed to go.
I held her hand that last day in the room my stock earnings had paid for. The machines stood around her bed like staring angels. One snaked its thin finger into the back of her hand. The other pressed its arms into her nose, to help her breathe. I wept openly, because no one watched me and no one came into the room anymore. Her eyes were cloudy, but they fell on me like miracles.
"Don't be lonely," she said around the plastic tube. "I'm not gone. Not really."
"Not yet," I said. I shook my head from side to side, as if to say 'no.' But it kept shaking, back and forth violently until I was on the floor, fingers curled into my hairline, digging in. I pulled out two fistfulls of hair, and my forehead bled a little.
I looked up slowly, and she was above me. Her thin feet rested on the floor in front of my face, and her arm stretched down at me. I grasped it gently, pained by the blue tracery under the skin. The tube from her hand was gone. Her mouth and nose were no longer plugged with them. Behind me, the clock struck one in its soft tone, and fell from the wall. I stood with her and we embraced.
"You won't forget," she said, "that I love you." It wasn't a question. I smiled, though it hurt my face. I shook my head 'no'; I wouldn't forget. She stepped back from me, and her grey eyes traced up my body. A small smile graced her, and she kissed me.
"I know you won't."
Her feet brushed the floor, but the bed made no sound as she climbed into it. Sunlight pushed through the window and onto her pillow as she laid her head back onto it. Her hair, more gray than gold now, spread out like a bride's train. She rolled to her left side, facing away from me.
I crept to the edge of the bed. I sat down on it, and touched her shoulder. It was cool and wooden. I held my breath and listened for hers. An empty moment passed by without a sound. Greedily, I inhaled and rose to my feet.
Before I stepped out the door, I turned back toward her still form. Her eyes were closed and her face reflected a shameless relief. "I won't forget," I said and turned my head away.
"You know I won't."