don’t fit. None of them!” she cries.
It takes me a moment to realize what she is talking about, but then I register the handful of jeans thrown around the room. “Your pants don’t fit?” I question softly.
“None of them do, Jax! Not one pair! I have nothing to wear!” She sobs, wiping her dripping nose on her sweater.
I sit next to her and pull her onto my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck and continues to cry into my chest.
“It’s okay. We’ll go get you some new jeans.”
“I don’t want jeans. I hate jeans!” she shouts.
Stella’s appearance has started to change a lot lately. She has gained weight, and her face has rounded out. I know it bothers her, but she has no control over it. It is a side effect of all the new medications she is on, especially the steroids. I honestly don’t notice it too much unless I really stop to think about it. When I look at her, I still see the woman I married. To me, Stella will always be one of the most beautiful women in the world.
My little fighter, she is so strong. She talks of dying like it’s commonplace. She leaves all the doctor’s appointments with a smile on her face, despite the sobering news she received. She is constantly reassuring me, trying to make sure I’m okay. She holds it together always. I’m in awe of her.
Then, the damn jeans throw her over the edge, causing all her pent-up emotions to come crashing down.
I’m going to burn those motherfucking jeans.
“Guess what?”
“What?” She sniffles.
“In Hawaii, you’re going to be wearing dresses. You know those big comfortable muumuu ones?”
“I’m not wearing a muumuu.” She giggles through her tears.
“Yes, you are. And I’m going to wear a hideously giant and gaudy floral print shirt. Our clothes are going to be so baggy and distracting that no one will know what we look like underneath.”
“I can wear maxi dresses,” she offers quietly.
“Is a maxi dress comfortable?” I question.
“Yes, and stretchy.”
“Perfect. See? You don’t need jeans. Actually, jeans blow. I don’t think you should ever wear jeans again. In fact, you know what?”
“What?” She smiles. Her eyes, wet from tears, stare up to mine.
“You should exclusively wear yoga pants,” I declare.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. They are comfortable, and you look hot in them.” I lower my chin and kiss her head.
“And they’re stretchy,” she says quietly.
“Always a bonus.” I look down and see her lip quivering. “You are so beautiful, Stella. You know that, right?”
Tears course down her face. She expels a harsh breath. “Not anymore.” She looks down.
I take my hand and lift her chin, so her eyes meet mine.
“Nothing in this world could take away your beauty, Stella. You are gorgeous, inside and out.”
“I hate this, Jax. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it,” she chants as a new round of tears stream down her face. She rests her face against my chest, soaking my shirt with her tears. “I just hate it.”
I hug her and realize I’m rocking back and forth slightly, holding her tightly against me. “I hate it, too. I fucking hate it, too.”
My chest burns with agony. We live every day with the painful reminder that Stella doesn’t have many days left, and it is the worst pain. It’s completely awful.
“I need your Hawaii Top Ten,” I say.
We’ve gotten in the habit of making lists for everything, wanting to make each day and each experience completely meaningful for Stella. Time is something we don’t waste. That’s not to say that we’re always on the run. Sometimes, simply relaxing is an event if it’s done right. Upon waking up, Stella often makes her list of the Top Ten things she wants out of that day, which could include something as minimal as having a great cup of coffee to something more time-consuming like taking a drive to Lake Michigan and walking on the beach.
Every day that she’s alive is a gift. We don’t take it for granted. I want to make as many of Stella’s dreams come true from the smallest wishes to her greatest desires. If it is in my realm of possibility, I will make it happen.
“Let’s see,” she says. “Swimming in the ocean, going to a luau, scuba diving, searching out the best frozen ice stand, finding the best seafood restaurant”—she’s ticking her items off on her fingers—“going to Turtle Beach and swimming with the sea turtles, surfing at North Shore, snorkeling, and…” She’s holding