Anything.
Everything.
I couldn’t accept that the man who had promised me forever might not get it.
One night, Tom caught me crying in the kitchen.
“You’re doing it again,” he said.
“Doing what?”
“Looking for a way to save me.”
I wiped my face.
“Because there has to be one.”
He walked toward me slowly.
“Nora.”
“No.”
“I need you to listen.”
“I don’t want to.”
He smiled sadly.
“You always were stubborn.”
“And you’re not?”
He laughed.
Then he pulled me into his arms.
“If I don’t get better,” he whispered, “don’t let Emily remember me as someone who was sick.”
I shook my head.
“You’re going to tell her yourself.”
He kissed my forehead.
“I hope I do.”
A year after his diagnosis, Tom’s body finally began to lose the fight.
I sat beside his bed.
Emily was sleeping at my mother’s friend’s house.
