The Cabin - Jasinda Wilder Page 0,30

Argentina,’” he murmurs, referencing one of my favorite musicals. “‘The truth is, I never left you.’”

Even now, he’s trying to make me laugh. He gets me. He’s always just gotten me. Who else ever could, the way he does?

I want to be grateful about this. But it hurts to goddamn bad.

I squeeze his hand so hard it must hurt. “Don’t leave me, Adrian. Please. You promised you’d never leave me.”

“I’m not leaving,” he says. “If I could stay, I would. I’m trying. I’ve been trying. I’m not leaving you, Nadia.”

“But you are.” These are not words; they are sobs that sound like words. “And I don’t know how to live without you.”

He’s suddenly fierce. “You make me a promise, Nadia Bell. And this promise, you keep. After I’m gone, you remember this promise, and you fucking keep it. Swear.” His eyes blaze.

I’m startled by the ferocity. “Okay, I—I swear.”

“Live,” he snarls. “You don’t stop living. You don’t fucking give up. Mourn me, as long as it takes. Remember me.” He clutches my hands in his, so hard my joints and bones throb. “Love again. Don’t spend the rest of your life alone.”

I shake my head. “I can’t—you’re my husband, Adrian. How can I…?” My voice cracks, breaks, and words fail me.

“Promise. You have to promise, and not just to get me to shut up. Promise and mean it.”

I can barely see through the tears. My head drops, touches his chest. I’m wracked, shaking. “I can’t, Adrian. You’re it.”

“No. I’m telling you. Promise me. Please, Nadia. It’s what I want for you. As your husband, as your best friend. I don’t want you to be alone. Promise me.” His voice crumbles. “Please.”

I can’t look at him. “Okay. Okay, Adrian. I promise.”

“Look at me.” He touches my chin. “I know when you’re lying.”

I look at him—it takes everything, but I do. “I promise.”

He nods. His head goes slack against the pillow. “Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you quote Star Wars at me, mister.”

A soft huff. “Fine. I love you too.” A long, long, long silence. “I’m ready, now.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

“You…you know me too well, don’t you?” Another silence. “Fine. I’m not. I never was and I never will be. But…I think I’m as ready as you can get.”

It takes me several minutes to compose myself enough that I can see what I’m doing. I find the pills, the Nuclear Option. Whatever the fuck it is. I still don’t look.

He takes it.

Clutches my hand. “I love you more than fucking life itself, Nadia. Never forget that. Wherever…wherever I’m going, I’ll love you there too.”

I hold him.

Cling to him.

His arms are around me, clutching.

“I love you,” I whisper, for the millionth time.

For the last time.

How long, then?

An hour? Five minutes?

His arms go weak. Slack.

His breathing slows.

I start to shake, trembling like a leaf, like I’ve been outside in -20 degree weather for an hour.

No, no, no, no, no.

It’s so subtle I barely notice it, for a moment.

I look at the clock: 3:33a.m. He always called three in the morning “zero hour.”

Figures he’d choose that time.

I cry, and I cry and I cry and I cry.

Until I’m dry, and hoarse.

Tess comes. Tries to pull me away, but I refuse. Fight her off, even though I know it’s her.

Stronger hands, stronger arms.

A pinch to my arm, because I won’t leave him.

Darkness, blessed darkness.

Can I just stay in this place? This quiet? This solitude, where there is nothing, and so much of it?

The world is cruel, and I don’t want to go back.

Take me with you, Adrian.

You promised. I almost hear him.

I promised.

Part II

Drowning

72 hours

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and loving kindness will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

The minister’s voice is what Adrian would have called mellifluous.

Why is it always that Psalm? What does it have to do with death, and mourning, and funerals? I admit I’ve not really read much of the Bible,