CHAPTER FIVE
I think my heart stopped. It’s one of those moments where you know your reaction is critical, and it’s also one of those moments where you have absolutely no control over your reaction. If I’d had some semblance of control, I probably would not have reacted the way I did. No, I’m positive I would not have reacted the way I did. I would have been warm and caring and sympathetic. I would have held him and tearfully asked him what was happening to him. I would have encouraged him to sob in my arms and open up to me, and then his entire family and I would share a Norman Rockwell type group hug and we’d be a stronger unit for the revelation. That’s how I should have responded.
This is how I did…
“That’s not funny, Teren.” I stood from the table and tossed down my silverware with an angry clink on the china, probably chipping it, and stormed from the room.
I trounced up the stairs, clomping angrily up each one. I wasn’t sure why I was so angry. Was I angry at finding the greatest, most unique guy I’d ever met, just to have him be ripped away from me? Was I angry that he hadn’t told me immediately – like, “Hello, my name is Teren and I’m dying,” would have been a more suitable introduction than the one he’d given me? Or was I angry at the universe, for taking something that was too precious to leave?
Whatever the reason, I slammed our bedroom door shut so hard, that it rattled in the frame and a tiny sliver of wood fell to the carpet. I stared at the door and considered doing it again, when it suddenly opened.
Teren calmly entered the room, that must have been ten degrees warmer due to my rage, and softly shut the door behind him. I knew that was a pointless gesture, they could all hear. He may as well have left it open. Hell, we may as well of had this conversation in the dining room. I started pacing beside the bed and he watched me warily, like at any moment I might leap on him…which was a tempting thought.
I watched him as I paced. He looked fine. He looked tan and strong and healthy – downright vibrant. He was fast. He was smart. He was virile. He was…alive. He looked anything but sick. We were supposed to have a chance. He was supposed to be my shot – my one shot at real companionship. I grabbed a decorative pillow, that sort-of looked like a giant Tootsie Roll, and chucked it at him.
“You’re dying!”
He easily dodged the pillow, and the next one that I immediately chucked at him. “Just my body…I’ll be fine,” he said, as he dodged a third one.
“You’ll be fine!” I chucked a larger pillow at him, which also missed when he easily ducked. “Oh good! I was thrown off by the whole dying part!” I yelled and chucked another pillow, which he avoided. “Stop Dodging!” I yelled as loud as I possibly could.
He sighed and stopped moving, and I pelted him with the last of the pillows - three square ones with elaborately twisted tassels. They hit his chest with a satisfying thud, and dropped to the floor at his feet. “Can we talk about this now?” he asked softly.
“No! Throw them back!”
He furrowed his brow and cocked his head. “What?”
I hopped on top of the bed and paced up there, my blood still boiling. “The pillows, throw them back up here as fast as your inhuman ass can.”
I heard him exhale loudly but I could no longer see him, as he was just a streaking of movement. Pillows magically appeared around me and then he was standing still and waiting, with a frustrated expression on his attractive, doomed face.
I started chucking pillows again, and this time he let every single one hit him. “You son of a bitch!” A couple pillows hit his chest. “You couldn’t have told me this before we came here?” A couple pillows smacked his thighs. “You couldn’t have mentioned you had months to live?” A particularly good toss clipped his head and he exhaled loudly and gritted his teeth. “What happened to giving me a heads up?” The last pillow smacked him soundly and I sank onto the middle of the bed, my anger sapped with my last toss. I felt the tears starting and blinked several times.
He walked through the sea of gold and cream fabric, and crawled up to sit beside me. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you…it’s just a hard thing to bring up in casual conversation.”
I looked over at him as a stubborn tear dripped from my eye. “Hey, don’t care for me, I’m dying, would have worked,” I muttered sullenly.
“Come here.” He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me tight to him. I swallowed several times to calm my emotions and my tears, and rested a hand over his perfectly thumping heart. “It’s not as bad as you think, Emma,” he whispered.