I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,153

She came back to Breezy Beaches yesterday and refused to let me do anything last night. She said she needed to be alone and practically threw me out the door. Today, I didn’t care what she said, I came anyway even with her bitch-o-meter being at an eleven out of ten.

She sits on the bed, glaring at me. “You never fucking listen to me! I don’t want you to come! I’m tired, I’m finally back home and I want to just . . .” She pauses and then groans.

Today is a bad day. She’s struggling to string words together and is getting frustrated.

I wait and then the words burst out. “Settle in! I want to be in this hellhole alone.”

“I am listening. I haven’t really been with you a lot lately.” I try to explain. “I love you, Steph.”

She starts to cough and swats my hand away. “You were at the hospital every single day. I’m asking for a d-d-day to myself! Why is that so hard for y-you? Why can’t you let me be alone?”

I sit on the edge of the bed and sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m trying here. I’m doing the best I can.”

It breaks my heart when she’s like this. I never know what will happen, and fighting with her literally kills me. If tomorrow never comes, I don’t want this to be our last conversation. Whenever it goes down this path, I have to swallow my hurt and anger. I hide the pain and do what I can to try to turn this around. I know what regret feels like, and I never want that for us.

Stephanie goes quiet for a few minutes, touches my shoulder, and then releases a heavy breath. “I hate this f-f-fucking disease!” Tears fill her eyes, and I pull her in my arms. “You sh-shouldn’t have to be around me. I’m mean!”

Rocking back and forth with her in my arms allows me to keep my own tears at bay. It isn’t her fault that she’s having a bad day. It’s the way it goes. Her symptoms are worsening, and we both know it. The outbursts have become more frequent over the last few months, her speech is declining, and the medicine isn’t doing as much for her tremors. Yesterday, the doctor told me frankly that this is the beginning of the decline.

“You’re not mean, you’re doing the best you can.” I know this isn’t her fault.

“I didn’t want to come back here. I wanted to stay at the hospital for longer.”

“Why?” I ask and take her hand in mine. “You hate the damn hospital.”

“I miss Anthony. I liked seeing him every day. I liked knowing he’d stop by the room and talk to me like I wasn’t this poor d-dying girl. He saw me as a girl, woman, whatever . . . the point is that he saw me, Heather. Not the tremors, locking joints, problems remembering . . .”

I hate that anyone sees her that way at all.

“Did you call him?” I ask.

Anthony has been good for her. He was in her room after his shift each day, bringing her comic books and flowers. The bouquet of varying shades of vibrant purple and pink roses with plush hydrangeas mixed in that he brought her was breathtaking. I tried not to make a big deal of it, but the fact that Anthony cared so much made my heart swell.

“No, I’m not going to make him watch me die.” Stephanie is stubborn. She always has been, and I worry she’ll push him away without a chance of any happiness. On the other hand, I can’t imagine what knowing she is dying and having people she loves watch feels like to her.

What can I even say to that? She’s allowed to make her choices, and I have to understand that. Even though I think she’s wrong.

“I wish you’d tell him how you feel. He brought you flowers, and by the looks of it, he cares for you.”

I understand that Stephanie has her own set of issues, far more than I can comprehend, but it doesn’t mean she should just give up.

She snorts. “Okay, whatever. First, the flowers aren’t from him, which I’ve said three times. I told you they just appeared in my room. Second, is that what you’re doing with Eli? Are you telling him how much you want to spend time with him? Are you giving him even the slightest inclination of how much you actually like the guy? No? I