Page 39 of One Night With You

The match had failed. The treatment had failed.Ihad failed.

And then Samantha looked at me, and I cleared my throat, knowing what had to come next.

I turned to Claire and pressed my forehead against hers. It wasn’t fair to rely on her like this, to need her strength. We didn’t even know what we were to each other, and yet she was there for me. So I would be selfish in this instant and take whatever I could. I needed to be the strong one for Samantha and Eddie’s family. If his grandfather could sit there with his chin held high, I could do the same.

“You’ve got this,” Claire mouthed, and I nodded tightly, before standing fully and making my way down the aisle. I passed my parents, all three of them sitting together, with my mother sitting between them, holding both of my dads’ hands. She gave me a tight nod, and I knew it was because she was ready to cry but wanted to hold back so she wouldn’t weep. They’d gotten to know Eddie over the past two treatments and were at a loss for words.

They weren’t the only ones who had come to pay their respects and remember a man who had fought to survive most of his life. My cousins were there, my brothers. Eddie’s family, friends. Those we went to school with.

And I had no idea what I was going to say to these people.

I stood at the microphone staring at those in front ofme during this non-denominational service and I knew this was notexactlywhat Eddie had wanted. What he had truly wanted was tolive. But people here, remembering him, that’s what he deserved. And that’s what Samantha and her family deserved.

I cleared my throat, not truly seeing those in front of me. “Eddie was my friend. He was the one who accidentally kicked a soccer ball right into a place you shouldn’t kick when we were teenagers. And that one moment, when I saw stars, and I wondered exactly how I was ever going to get my low voice back again,that momentwas when we became friends.”

Laughter filled the room, and I knew I had done what I was supposed to. To make it a little lighter, to ease the burden for only a moment. Because I had tried to ease the burden before. To be the one to save the day. And I had failed. So I wouldn’t fail in this.

“Eddie loved lemon pastries and chai lattes. He loved tattoos, though he never got one. So he would sit while I would get one, or Samantha, and talk about all of the art he would one day have on his skin.” I cleared my throat. “But a needle never touched him. Mostly because he said every time he thought of needles, he thought of something else. So he hadn’t been ready. He had been waiting.” I cleared my throat again, my voice growing thick. “And I had been waiting to do my next tattoo for him. And myself. And somaybe something I should have learned long ago wasnotto wait.”

I looked up at Claire in that instant, at the tears falling down her cheeks, and let out a breath. I pulled my gaze from her because I couldn’t look at her when I said this. I didn’t want her to be my strength. I couldn’t put so much onto her, when whatever we had was so fragile, so new.

“Eddie was my friend. And when any one of us needed something, he would step in. He gave everything he could. Even when he didn’t have much left some days. And the one thing he always told me he wanted to give more of, but he knew somewhere deep down that he didn’t have much left—wastime. He gave histimeto us. However short it was by this cruel trick of fate, he gave us himself—and his time. And whatever lessons can be learned from something so devastating, is that we need to treasure those moments. Time hits you like a bullet train: it hits you fast and slides through your fingers before you have a moment to breathe.Eddie was my friend,” I repeated. “He was joyous. He was powerful. And he ran out of time. And I am going to hate the concept and reality of that until the end of my days. But I’ll always remember the time we had.”

And with that, I cleared my throat again, and made my way back to sit next to Claire. She leaned her head against my shoulder, crying in deep sobs. I handed her atissue, as everyone else began to whisper through jagged breaths and Samantha went up to speak again.

She wasn’t crying, however. She had that shell-shocked look about her, that look of someone who didn’t really understand how this was reality. I could truly understand that feeling. Eddie had been turning around. He was supposed to live. It was only supposed to be one little procedure.

One more thing until he could go home.

And it had killed him.

By the time she was finished speaking, telling jokes for all of our sakes so we could laugh with her, I was ready to get out of the suit, and to just get home. When we finished with the service and headed toward a restaurant to eat, my family and I didn’t stay long. Everyone else had stories about his childhood and wanted to laugh, and I didn’t feel like it was my place to stay.

I had tried to give him part of me, my actual literal cells, and yet those were gone. It hadn’t worked again.

And I wasn’t sure I could stay and watch the outcome.

So I said my goodbyes, made sure that Samantha and the rest of their family, including Eddie’s grandfather, knew I was here if they needed me, but I knew they wouldn’t ask. They had taken what they neededfrom me before, what I had freely given, and it hadn’t worked. It hadn’t been enough.

“Come to the house, baby,” my mom said, as she cupped my cheeks.

“I just want to go home.”

“No.”

I looked down at her, confused. I hadn’t heard that biting tone of strength in a long time. Mostly it was only when I was in trouble.

“Mom. I’m an adult.”

“And you’re still my baby, Kingston Montgomery. Just like Logan and Oliver are. You’re going to get in that car, you’re going to have Claire drive you, and you’re going to come home. You’re going to come home to your family and we’re going to have tea, or beer, whatever you need. But you are not going to your home alone. And I’m sure that you and Claire can also be there for each other, but I’m going to be the mean mom and make you come home so I can watch you. Just for a little bit. Let me be selfish.”

I knew this wasn’t for her. This was for me. She was saying she could be selfish so I would blame her if I got angry. Because she was good at knowing what I needed even though I didn’t want it.

“I could get angry, you know,” I muttered.

“You won’t. Because you want to come over too. I made pie.”

I smiled at that, surprising myself that I could smile, and I went over to Claire’s side. “Mom wants us to go over there. She said both of us,” I warned.

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