Scarlett would have loved it. Her field is named after John Lennon’s memorial in Central Park.”
There is so much to process, but I know we haven’t even skimmed the surface. “You said up until recently you didn’t speak. What happened for that to change?” I know what happened, I can see it, but I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
This entire time, Roman has been lost deep in thought, not making eye contact, but with the slowest of movements, he turns his chin to look at me. I knew he was a beautiful being, but now, his beauty is extraordinary.
My hands sit limply in my lap, but they resurrect when Roman slips his palm over mine. The contact warms every inch of my body. But that warmth pales compared to what he does next. With trusting fingers, he draws my hand upward and places it over his beating heart.
The scar beneath my fingertips is smooth. With a timid touch, I graze over it, but Roman seizes my wrist, as if repulsed that I’m stroking something he finds hideous.
“This is what happened,” he replies, letting me go. “Yes, I became a doctor to honor Scarlett, but I also became a doctor to honor me.”
My breathing begins a steady climb. “I-I don’t understand.”
He wets his lips before confessing, “Scarlett and I were twins. What she had, I had too. Mine just lay dormant. I had congenital heart disease, just like Scarlett, but mine was—is—a complex, more complicated defect that presented itself for the first time when I turned twenty. Congenital heart defects discovered during adulthood can only be repaired surgically.”
The walls close in on me.
“My first surgery”—he absentmindedly rubs over his scar—“was when I was twenty-one. It worked for a little while, but it appears my heart is as stubborn as my head. The second operation was three years later. Open heart surgery to replace my damaged valves. That seemed to work, but I didn’t go into this blind. I’m a doctor. I know what my future holds.”
“And what’s that?” I ask in a mere whisper.
He consoles me, clasping my hand tenderly. “You know what.”
No.
This is his secret? His life-changing secret is that he’s…dying.
A wave of nausea rolls over me, and I cover my mouth, afraid I’m going to be sick. Nothing comes up, however, because I’m empty inside.
He did all this to save and protect me. Save me from the same fate headed his way, and to protect me from this heartache of knowing that Roman, just like me, has had his life snatched out from under him.
“Why didn’t you tell June s-sooner? I know she regrets not being there for you.” She told me so herself.
Roman smiles, and it’s so bittersweet. “Because my family has had enough heartache. She didn’t need another broken heart.” He cups my cheek, his thumb wiping away fallen tears I didn’t even know I’ve shed.
Every single memory overcomes me, and I gulp in three deep breaths, desperate to push through and not break down. June’s gut-wrenching sobs in the chapel echo loudly in my ears. I now understand who she shed those tears for. She was losing both children. No wonder she showed such interest in Roman’s and my affairs. She was making up for lost time, and she had a deadline.
I recall Roman’s many comments about not being good enough, or why anyone would want to date him. I now know why. Why start a relationship with somebody when this constant cloud of doom hangs over your head? I know that feeling all too well.
Tamara’s comment about him dying a lonely old man, and how he had replied with an ambiguous response at the time. But now, it’s crystal clear. All of it is.
“Why didn’t y-you tell m-me?” My stutter isn’t caused by my illness, but rather the fact I’m skating so close to the edge. What happens when I fall? I crumble, that’s what.
“You know why,” he simply replies.
He pushed me to fight because he understands what it’s like to be given an end date. He wants for me what I want for him.
Life.
When you’re sick, no one wants to be treated that way. They just want normalcy. Didn’t I?
This entire time, I thought he didn’t want me because I was flawed, but in reality, he’s the one who saw himself as the biggest imperfection of all.
“You can’t give up,” I cry, latching on to both hands and pressing them to my cheeks. I need to feel his touch, everywhere, forever. “You taught me