reason. “It’s breaking every day anyway, knowing that you’re dying. I can do something to help save you. Please. Take it.”
He pulls his palm away, shaking it frantically. “I can’t! Don’t you see why I can’t?”
“No. All I see is your pigheadedness standing in the way.” We’re silent, both glaring at the other.
“Even if I did this, how could I live with myself? How could I live knowing I’m alive because you’re dead? I can’t.” The fight in him begins to fizzle, and all that’s left is utter grief.
“If the tables were turned, would you do the same for me?”
His jaw clenches. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Answer me,” I demand. “Would you?” When he turns his cheek, I force him to look at me by gripping his chin.
“Lola…” His blue-gray eyes swarm with grief.
“Tell me!”
“Yes!” he roars, his anger laced with devotion. “Of course, I would. I would happily end my life to save yours! I will fight for your life with my last dying breath.” He shoots up, pacing, yanking at his hair. The hard resolve of his stance reveals that regardless of what he confessed, it doesn’t make a lick of difference.
“So that’s it then? You won’t even discuss this with me?”
“No. There’s nothing to discuss. I’m furious at you! How could you even think I’d be okay with this? And not only that, you went behind my back.” He continues pacing, resembling a caged tiger.
“No one but Dr. Carter knows it’s you.”
“That’s not the point!” I’ve never seen him this angry. It’s evident he wants some time alone as he turns his back. “No. The answer is no.”
Standing, I whisper, “If this is goodbye, then you say it first.” My voice trembles. I can’t believe it has come to this.
The scattered paperwork strewn on the floor is like a ticker tape parade highlighting my failure.
“It’ll never be goodbye,” he declares hollowly.
Holding back my tears, I turn to leave but then stop. “You’re a hypocrite, Dr. Archibald. You were so adamant that I was to live, but the truth is…you’re so afraid of living.” I close the door behind me.
Only when I enter the elevator do I allow the tears to fall. I sob ugly tears, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop. I went behind Roman’s back, knowing full well that it would end this way. But I had to try.
It’s better to be scared while dying instead of being scared of trying.
I catch a cab home.
Slipping off my ballet flats, I stagger to my room, silent sobs robbing me of breath. I want to shake sense into Roman. He’s so angry because he knows I’m right. He knows this is the only way, but to gain back his life, I have to lose mine.
Slumping onto the end of my bed, I cradle my face, sobbing into my palms. A small part of me thought that maybe, just maybe Roman would see reason, and although it’s not something I expected him to accept right away, he’d eventually come around.
But I thought wrong.
Three Days Later
I slept a lot, unable to face the world because Roman hasn’t called.
By suggesting what I did, I never expected to push him away. In some naïve way, I thought it would bring us closer together.
It’s now daylight; I know this because my mother has just given me my marching orders to get out of bed and shower. I really need to revoke her spare key.
After I’m showered and dressed, I feel semi-human, but a gaping hole has been punched through my chest. I miss Roman. So much. Even though I stand by my convictions, I never wanted things to turn out this way.
“Lola? Can you come out here?” my mom calls from outside my bedroom door.
Applying a coat of ChapStick, I don’t bother with shoes as I hobble down the hallway.
My condition seems exacerbated since my fight with Roman. Could it be he was my magical potion all along?
Once I turn the corner, I take a moment to catch my breath, but that breath is taken in vain.
“Roman?” I wheeze. Surely, my vision has failed me. Actually, I’m certain it has.
I rub my eyes under my lenses, expecting that when I remove them, this will all be my imagination playing a cruel trick.
But it’s not. Here he stands, in my living room looking worse than I do. His beard is full, his hair is snarled, and I’m certain he looks skinnier than when I saw him last.