Page 77 of Kiss From A Rose

Rose and I often sat with Malou throughout the day, keeping her company, sharing stories, or simply enjoying the peaceful silence that Thomas helped maintain.

It was my turn to sit in bed with her as Rose would. In a matter of days, Malou had becomemyfriend as well.

"She'll do anything for you," Malou told me one night when I was with her. She was propped up on pillows, and I sat up next to her. I held her hand the way I'd seen Rose do. "She loves you."

"I know."

"Don't let her doanythingfor you unless you earn it."

I kissed Malou on her forehead, wishing that she would live and stay so I could have the chance to get to know her; to have her in my life, to learn from her. But Thomas had told us that she was fading away sooner than expected. He thought it wasn't a matter of weeks anymore but of days. My heart cracked.

"I'll do everything I can to deserve her," I promised.

"Good," she murmured. "You know, I don't think she ever told you this, but remember the time your mama thought she was having a heart attack at a garden party?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Now, don't take this the wrong way. But she'd been a bitch to Rose. I may have encouraged her to add an herbal supplement to her drink."

"What?" I couldn't believe my Rose would ever do something like that.

"It was perfectly safe; it would just increase her heartbeat for a short time," Malou continued. "Now, you're thinking Rose would never do something like that.Shewouldn't not on her own. ButI was always a bad influence. She felt guilty for days. She almost confessed to you. But I didn't let her. That woman deserved it. She told Rose she lookedfat. For God's sake, our Rose, fat? She told her that you were interested in an ex of yours and would leave her. You were talking to that skanky ex at thatparty, and Rose was so hurt—not that you talked to the ex but that your mother was such a cunt."

I should be upset. Honestly, drugging my mother? But I burst out laughing, remembering how comical it had been at the party when Mama had started to scream about having a heart attack, and Holden muttered how she wouldn't be able to scream if that was true.

"Mama was fucked up in many ways," I told her, "and I let her hurt my wife. That's on me."

"We can't fix the past, Gray. Only the presentandwork hard for the future to be better."

Malou would have no future. My eyes filled with tears, and my heart with tremendous respect for this woman who, even as she was dying, wanted to make sure her friend would be taken care of after she passed.

"You have to become her Malou," she told me as she started to slip into sleep.

"I promise."

Thomas came back to Malou's room, and I nodded at him. "She dozed off."

"Yes. She's tired."

And her body is shutting down, I thought.

Thomas was capable, and as I watched him take care of Malou, I was in awe of the depth of his compassion and the subtle strength he brought. He was not just a caregiver; he was the guardian of the dignity that Malou deserved in her final days.

As evening approached and the golden hues of sunset bled into the sky, Thomas packed up his things.

He always took a moment to speak with Rose and me, offering updates and gentle assurances and answering our questions with patience and empathy.

Today was no different.

“She's comfortable,” he told us, his voice low and soothing. “And she's in good spirits, considering. It's good you're here with her; it means more than you might know.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “Thank you, Thomas,” I said, my voice thick with gratitude and the underlying grief of impending loss.

“Thank you for all that you do.” Rose hugged him.

The house felt quieter in Thomas's absence, the space around us heavy with the significance of the time we had left with Malou.

I glanced at Rose, her face etched with both love and sorrow as she looked toward Malou's room. Walking over, I took her hand, feeling the tremor of her touch. Together, we went back to sit by Malou, the silence around us not empty but full of unspoken words and shared heartbeats, each moment more precious than the last.

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