A Sad Goodbye: A Short Story

A Sad Goodbye

  A Short Story

  Copyright 2011 by Emerald Barnes

  I stare at the man I love lying amidst the crisp white sheets of our bed. His brown eyes are quickly losing their luster, and it worries me more and more. He assures me that he will be fine, but his eyes don’t lie. They never have.

  He coughs, and I jump. He looks at me and smiles weakly like I’ve just told a corny joke. He reaches for me, and I slide off of the chair and onto my knees beside the bed. He takes my hand in his. He feels cold, and I refuse to think of him as the man he used to be. Tears sting my eyes, but I won’t cry in front of him.

  “Quit worryin’ about me,” he whispers, “and get to work.”

  I look at the alarm clock and realize I should’ve left the house ten minutes ago. I can’t leave him because I’m afraid something will happen while I’m away. He coughs again, and I almost decide to stay.

  A quick knock on the door startles me. “Sorry,” Marilyn says.

  I turn around to see Zane’s sister standing in the doorway holding the car seat with Rose in it. She looks like she’s just rolled out of bed, and I can’t help but wonder if I look the same. I haven’t put any effort into anything I do since he was given his death sentence.

  Marilyn says, “Why on earth are you still here? Get to work, Sara.” She uses her momma-voice on me as she sets baby Rose beside Zane.

  I stand and stare at Zane who is watching Rose kick and giggle in her car seat. His eyes light up for a moment and then beads of tears form in the corners of his eyes. He’ll never get to see his niece grow up to be a beautiful young woman.

  I lean over and kiss Zane gently on the forehead. “Kiss me like you mean it,” he teases. I smile briefly and kiss him. Even though he’s weak, he kisses me as passionately as he can which only breaks my heart.

  “I love you,” he says.

  “I love you too.”

  I smile weakly at him and walk out of the room. Marilyn follows me after telling Zane to watch Rose.

  As I was slipping on my shoes in the living room, she asks, “How is he today?”

  “Not too good. He’s in a lot of pain.”

  She nods and a few tears escape her eyes. “He looks bad.”

  I don’t want to acknowledge what she says in anyway, no matter how true it is. I gather my purse, phone and keys. I grab the door knob and stop before opening it. I take in a deep breath and say, “Call me if something changes.”

  “I will.”

  I bite my lip and walk outside into the warm, sunny day. If I could control the weather, it would be storming and lightening. I walk to my car, get inside, and drive to work.

  I go through the same routine for two weeks. Marilyn has been great and stays with him while I work or buy groceries. She insists that I get out and do something normal, but there’s nothing normal about my life. I live in constant fear of that one phone call saying that there’s nothing to come home to but funeral preparations.

  While I’m out buying groceries, my phone rings, and my heart stops. With shaky hands I fumble around in my purse. It’s Marilyn. I answer it warily.

  “He’s tellin’ everyone goodbye.” She’s sobbing, and I drop my phone and sink to my knees in the middle of the store. A ten year old eyes me suspiciously while a young man wearing a blue vest with the store’s name on it, walks over to me.

  “You all right?” he asks, worried.

  I shake my head no.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  I shake my head again. He stares for a moment and then walks away. I can’t cry. I can’t move, but I have to get home. I have to see him. I force myself to my feet, grab my phone and purse, and walk out of the store. I get in my car and drive home thinking about what I will find when I get there.

  I throw open the door to our house, and the family’s in the living room. Most of them are crying, and I’m afraid I’m too late. Marilyn pulls me into her arms. I need supporting, but it feels like I’m the one supporting her.

  “Am I –“ I can’t finish the sentence.

  She shakes her head no but follows it up with, “He’s askin’ for people but hasn’t gotten around to you yet.”

  He wasn’t even asking for me? I’m confused. “No,” I say.

  “Mom’s in there right now,” she answers.

  “Have you called the doctor?”

  Having heard us, Doctor Milligan walks up to me. “Sara, I’m so sorry.”

  “You have to do something!” I yell.

  “You knew there wasn’t anything we could do. The cancer had spread. There wasn’t anything we could do,” he repeats.

  Momma takes me in her arms. I didn’t even know she was there.

  “We’ll get through this, sweetie,” she says, but I don’t believe her. It’s something all parents have to say.

  I stare at Dr. Milligan like he’s the enemy, and at the moment, I feel like he is. He’s not even trying to help Zane. He hangs his head, and I wonder if it’s in shame or just to escape my piercing gaze.

  Zane’s mom walks out of the room, crying. She says, “He wants to talk to Marilyn.”

  My heart sinks. Why doesn’t he want to talk to me? I should be in there with him.

  Mom says, “Give him time, honey.”

  “Why isn’t he talkin’ to me?” My words are slurred as I sob.

  “He will.”

  “What if something happens before he gets to me?”

  I feel like a blubbering child.

  “You’ll get to talk to him. Don’t worry.”

  I nod, and she leads me to the sofa. Two people stand and let us sit. Mom offers me a cup of coffee, but I can’t drink anything. I can’t think of anything but my Zane. The man I had married ten years ago. We were supposed to have more time. Why was God doing this? Why was he taking him away from me so soon?

  I lay my head on Mom’s shoulder and cry. She offers me a tissue that quickly becomes unusable.

  Time passes slowly, and he wants to see everyone but me. His brother, Chad, his dad, my dad, my mom, even Dr. Milligan. But when there’s no one else to see, he still doesn’t even ask for me, and I feel like my world is crashing in around me. I want to see my husband.

  Eventually, Marilyn walks back to his room to check on him and comes back telling me that he has asked for me. Now that the time has come, I’m not sure what I’m going to say to him.

  I walk, in what feels like slow motion, to our bedroom. I pause at the opened door and stare at him. He looks so fragile and pale. He’s a shadow of the man I married. Hot tears sting my eyes, and this is going to be hard. I can’t tell him goodbye. I refuse to.

  Zane sees me and smiles. He coughs. I walk into the room, shutting the door for some privacy. I walk to him and kneel beside the bed. I take his cold hand in mine and press it to my lips.

  “Sara,” he says weakly.

  “Zane,” I whisper.

  He smiles again, and it breaks my heart into a million little pieces. Tears roll down my cheeks, and he wipes them away.

  “Don’t cry for me.”

  “How can I not?”

  “I won’t be suffering anymore.”

  I never thought of it that way, but I can’t live without him. Maybe that’s selfish of me, but I can’t help it.

  He laughs and says, “Do you remember our honeymoon?”

  “Of course.”

  “Hold on to those memories. Not these.”

  I start crying despite trying to be strong for him. How was he facing this head on? He’s so calm.

  He stares at me, smiles and says, “Sexy Momma.” />
  I laugh. His closes his eyes and laughs too. And then, he’s gone.

  I stop laughing and stare at him. No. No. This isn’t right.

  “Zane,” I whispered. “ZANE!” I yell and shake him. He can’t die. He can’t leave me.

  Soon, I’m surrounded by family and loud sobs. Someone kneels beside me and holds me close as I cry.

  We stand around the freshly dug grave as he’s lowered in the ground. The preacher says nice things about him, gives us some Bible verses to help with the pain, and says that he’s better off in Heaven than on this earth. Zane would agree, but I wonder why God hates me.

  There’s a knock at my bedroom door. I scream for whoever that person is to go away but in walks Marilyn.

  “Get out of bed, Sara.”

  “Go away.”

  “You’ve been here for two weeks. Zane wouldn’t have wanted this.”

  I throw a pillow at her and scream again. She ducks out of the way and stares at me like I’m a child. I roll over and bury my face in the sheets that still smell like Zane. The door closes behind her.