Page 65 of Kiss From A Rose

Malou hadn't had the energy to talk and had dozed off immediately. When she woke again, I carried her to the living room. She'd tried to argue that she could walk, but I told her she was light and I was a big, strong man. That made her laugh right before she started to cough.

There was no getting better for Malou, Rose had told me. She'd talked to all the doctors caring for her friend, and with the way the cancer had metastasized, the only place they would send her now was hospice. Malou was adamant not to go and so was Rose. I knew it was going to piss Rose off, but I had talked to the doctor when I went with Rose and Malou for her appointment this morning. He'd given me the contact details of a nurse specializing in end-of-life care.

I had hired the nurse who said he would start right after Christmas day on the 26th. I had two days to convince my wife that this was a good idea. I had no clue how she'd respond tomy high-handedness, but Malou needed all kinds of medications to make her comfortable, and Rose would not be able to help with that. Angel Island was a small community, so it wasn't like there were volunteer nurses who could come by as they would, if Malou were in Atlanta.

Willow's fingers danced gracefully across the piano keys, filling the room with the melodies of Christmas songs. It was a scene straight out of a cherished holiday card, and my heart swelled watching it unfold.

As Willow transitioned from one song to another, she turned and beckoned her mother to join her. Rose hesitated for a mere second before she moved to stand beside our daughter.

Together, they began a duet ofHave Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Rose wasn't a singer per se, but she had a clear and beautiful voice and could carry a tune. The song, along with the piano's melody, wrapped around all of us like a warm blanket. It was a song of hope and reassurance, and every note she sang seemed to linger in the air, touching every heart in the room.

Malou's eyes locked on Rose with an expression of serene contentment. Despite the sorrow of knowing this would be her last Christmas, she radiated peace. I reached out and took her hand, an action she acknowledged with a gentle squeeze and a weak smile.

"Your daughter is beautiful," Malou said to me as she watched Willow at the grand piano, a majestic presence in the living room. "We have guests who use the piano from time to time. Rose would always tell me how good Willow plays. I'm glad I get to see it before…."Before she dies!

As I sat there, holding the hand of this remarkable woman who was my wife's family, a pang of regret washed over me. I wished I had made an effort to get to know Malou in the past, to understand the depths of her strength and the laughter shecould bring into a room. She was truly remarkable, and I was only now seeing the extent of what I had missed.

The song ended, and the room erupted in applause. Malou's eyes were moist, but so were mine. The music had transcended mere notes and lyrics; it was a bridge linking us all, a reminder of what truly mattered. At that moment, amid the festive decorations and beneath the soft light of the Christmas tree, we were not just guests or family or friends, we were a small, fleeting instance of a perfect world where love, loss, and hope intertwined, leaving us all a little more connected, a little more understood.

Willow was still playing when Malou fell asleep. I carried her to her bedroom with Rose following me.

"Thank you for doing that," she murmured gratefully.

"She weighs nothing," I said hoarsely. She was emaciated because cancer had eaten her insides. It made my heart hurt.

"I know." Rose made Malou comfortable and kissed her forehead.

She straightened and looked at me. "It's…it's nice to have y'all here."

"Where else would we be, Rose? You're the sun we all revolve around. We may not have shown gratitude,butwithout you, we were all cold and lost."

"Gray—"

"No, babe, just hear me out," I pleaded before she could tell me how she didn't believe me. "I know I've fucked up.I know. And I know it's not a matter of one Christmas or even two. It's a lifetime. I'm…going to make it up to you for the rest of my life."

She looked at Malou for a long moment and then at me.

"What if…what if I don't want that? What if I want to move on?"

My heart cracked, and the sound reverberated through me. My Rose wanted to move on? Find another man? Yeah, thatshit wasn't happening.Ever. But acting like a caveman wasn’t going to get me anywhere—in fact, I was in this mess due to my misogyny, thinking I was a big shot just because I brought home a paycheck.

"Then I'll wish you well, but I'm still going to be where you are, hoping that you'll give me a chance."

"Really?" she queried.

"Yeah." I sighed and added, "And I'll dissuade any other man who might be interested in you and make sure he stays the fuck away from my wife."

She laughed softly, and my heart warmed. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah, babe, I'd do that."

"Let's let her sleep," Rose suggested.

"Rose? Can we talk?" I asked, hoping I wasn't pushing my luck.

"Yes."

"Now?" I pleaded.

---