that it? You get an escape route, while I have to wither away and die! How is that fair?” My calm approach is long gone, and the anger Roman wanted to see from me rears its ugly head.
A surge pulsates through me, and I shove at his chest with all my might. He stumbles backward, surprised by my hostility. This isn’t his fault. The fact he wants to be the decider of his fate isn’t his fault either. I can relate to his decision. I respect his strength.
But I’m blinded by fury because of how messed up everything is. It wasn’t bad enough that one of our lives was coming to a premature end, but now both—what a cruel, sadistic fate we both face. That thought is the fire behind my rage, and I lash out at the only person who understands my pain.
I shove at him again and again, hating that each blow ebbs away at my agony. He accepts the violence, almost as punishment for everything that has transpired between us. My arms grow lax, but I continue fighting, because once I stop, I’ll be sure to break down and cry.
“How i-is this f-fair?” I scream, thrashing wildly, my tiny fists not even making a dent.
“None of this is fair!” he exclaims, finally having enough and snaring my wrists.
I try to break free, but it’s futile. He’s too strong, and I’ve run out of fight.
He wraps his arms around me, scooping me into his trembling embrace. I want to escape, but he holds on tight. I need time to think.
“Will you change your mind?” I lean my cheek against his chest. The strong thrumming of his heart is a betrayal because it’s failing him every single day.
His silence is all the answer I need.
Never thinking I’d ever say these words aloud, I whisper, “Please let me go.”
“Lola…”
“No, I need time.” He begrudgingly loosens his hold, and I slip free, but I’ve never felt more trapped.
“Time for what?” he poses, nothing but heartbreak surrounding him.
“Time to think. You throw me this curveball and expect me to accept it. I will not. I especially won’t when you won’t even negotiate your decision.”
He tips his head upward and pushes out an exasperated breath. “This was never up for negotiation. This is why I didn’t tell you. This is my life.”
I step back, hearing all I needed to hear. “I thought I was part of your life?”
He averts his gaze, as I’ve obviously struck a nerve.
“I’ve run out of goodbyes,” I declare, holding in my sadness. “You want to leave me, and all I can think about is spending every last minute, every last second I have left holding your hand. But I guess that’s the difference between us. I want to fight, even with the odds against us. And you, all you want to do is say goodbye, time and time again.”
A single tear slips past the floodgates, but I brush it away. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Lola…” He charges forward, but I thrust out my hand.
“No, don’t. Please, just give me space.”
It’s apparent he would rather rip off his own arms, but he nods. “Let me give you money for a cab.” He digs into his back pocket, but I shake my head.
“No, I’ll walk. The fresh air will do me good.” I can see it’s taking every ounce of willpower not to protest.
I’m not trying to be difficult. I just need time to get my head around something which makes no sense. He’s going away September first so Teddy can inject him with a lethal dose of something to end his battle for good. I never was opposed to euthanasia. How could I be? In some cases, it would have been the humane thing to do. But when we’re talking about the man I love, it’s not humane. It’s the complete opposite.
Taking one last look at the man who was my shelter, I wonder what happens when he’s gone.
I thought my head would clear after walking the streets of Manhattan, but it hasn’t. There is no way to process all this without wanting to scream, cry, and fight. My results have been furthest away from my thoughts because I’ve experienced it before. Same prognosis, different time. Not much has changed.
But the bombshell Roman dropped; I don’t even know where to start.
I understand his decision, and I respect it. It takes guts to end your life. But it takes the heart of a true champion to live it. Our future