Page 8 of August's Angst

“That’s never a good statement, baby,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light but feeling a knot forming in my stomach.

She takes a deep breath, her eyes never leaving mine. “I can’t be with you anymore,” she says, her words hitting me like a freight train. My world stops on a dime, everything around me fading away as I try to process what she just said.

“What? Why?” I manage to choke out, my throat tight with emotion.

“It’s just not working. We’ve been drifting apart for a while now and I think it’s better if we end things now before things get even worse,” she explains, her voice trembling.

My mind races, trying to come up with a way to change her mind, to make her stay. But I know deep down that her decision is final. She has thought this through and there is no changing her mind.

“Is there someone else?” I choke on the words as I say them. The thought of her being with another man is as abhorrent as me being with another woman. I would never. Could never…

“What difference does it make?” she asks, making it hard for me breathe. What the fuck? How could I not know she met someone else?

“I love you, you know that, right?” I say, my voice breaking.

She nods, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I love you too, Declan. But sometimes love isn't enough,” she says, her words crushing me further.

I take her hand in mine, bringing it up to my lips and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I’ll always love you,” I whisper, knowing that these words won’t be the last I say to her.

Her hand trembles in mine, and I can see the pain in her eyes as she stands up, pulling her hand away. “I’ll move out when I’m feeling better, if that’s okay. Can you just leave for the night? I can’t be around you right now.” All I can do is nod, because I’m still in shock. “Goodbye, Declan. I really am sorry,” she says, her voice filled with sadness.

I watch her walk away, closing herself in the bathroom my heart breaking into a million pieces, knowing that I have lost the love of my life.

I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but now isn’t the time to figure it out. I’ll give her a little space, but if she thinks this is actually over, she’s got another thing coming.

I’m fucking devastated but there’s something going on here. My August wouldn’t do this… I don’t know what it is, but it’s big. For now, I’ll respect her wishes and leave the apartment. I pack a bag while she’s in the bathroom and leave without seeing her again. I head over to Bobby’s house to lick my wounds.

When I finally lie down in the guest bedroom, that’s when the doubts begin to seep in. What if she’s serious? What if I can’t get her back? I don’t know how to live without August by my side and to be honest, I don’t want to know. She’s the air I fucking breathe. Not getting her back isn’t an option. I’ll do whatever it takes. Whatever it takes.

CHAPTER 9

AUGUST

TWO DAYS LATER

I have beenin bed for two days now, alternating between crying, pain, and vomiting. Since the breakup, I have been miserable, feeling guilty and missing him like crazy, but I know it was the right thing to do. I just need to convince my heart. He is the missing piece to my soul. I knew it the first day I saw him in the support group, and no matter what happens with this illness, I will know it until the day I die, but he deserves to have everything he dreamed of, even if it is not with me. No matter how much it hurts.

Today is the first day I am fever-free and my body aches like you wouldn’t believe. Now, I am sure I had the flu, but it was ten times worse because of the chemo but damn, can a girl get a break. When I realized I was feeling better, I called the chemo center first thing this morning, and they told me they had a chair for me due to one of their other patients being out with the flu. Geez, that place should really disinfect better.

Now that I have showered, I am in the mirror combing my hair when the first clump comes out. “Oh God.” My hand flies tomy mouth, and tears fall. “Please, not now,” I beg to someone, anyone. I thought I had more time for this part.

Over the past few months, I have tried so hard to remember every stage of my mom's journey, when certain things happened and when they didn’t, but I can’t. The only thing I can seem to hang on to was the pain she went through and how it felt as her child to watch her leave us slowly. “Mama, help me.” I sob, my head hanging, when the reality finally hits me. I mean, of course, I know I have cancer. How can I not know? But, I think I tricked myself into believing I would be the one in a million who didn’t lose their hair and announce to the world what she is fighting.

My knees begin to buckle, and then this voice, the voice of my mom, fills the bathroom. “Sweet girl do you remember what we did when my hair started falling out?” I do remember. She stood so tall and strong and handed me an electric razor while Connie looked on and demanded I shave her head. I protested, cried, refused, and screamed at her, and when all of that was done, she looked me in my eyes and said, “It’s only hair, sweet girl. It will grow back. This is small compared to everything else, don’t you think?” That was the day I learned that certain things matter, and others don’t, and I think I forgot along the way when I was leaving the grief behind.

Now, with my mother's words in my head, I grab the razor Declan keeps in the cabinet, shed one last tear, and then shed my hair. Okay, I lied. The tears continue to rain down on my sink with each pass of the razor, but I am no longer anguished by them. It’s just that with each strand that falls, I remember.

I remember my mom braiding it for me before I went to school. I remember the first time she taught me to use rollers because I wanted my hair curly and how hard the three of us laughed when I looked like a poodle once the rollers were out.

I remember that way she cried when I colored it in tenth grade without asking her, but she didn’t cry because she wasmad, she cried because she couldn’t be there with me due to being in the hospital.

I remember Declan used to love running his hands through it, especially when he was anxious about something. He would lean into me, inhale my hair and run his fingers through it calling me his touchstone.

I remember him pulling it hard when he made love to me from behind, forcing me to lean back and kiss him while he fucked me so hard tears would pour from my face. God, I miss his dominance in bed. So many memories and yet right now, I am angry that I have to do it. I have to be honest though, the more hair that falls strangely enough I feel liberated, almost more empowered like it is one more thing lifted off me.

When it is finished, I look nothing like me, but hey, I haven't for a long time. Not quite ready to go out like this, I grab a scarf from my drawer, wrap it around my head and take a deep breath. The first day as the new me. My phone beeps letting me know my ride's here. I grab my purse and walk outside. Ordinarily, I would get in the backseat, but considering the nausea and the fact that I am alone, I get in the passenger seat.

The chair they have for me is ready when I get there so they walk me to it, hook me up and I simply lie back and let the medicine do its thing. My mind drifts over and over to the past few months and of course I see everything I could have done differently, but didn’t. It doesn’t stop the pang in my chest when I think of him all the time.

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