Page 89 of Write Me For You
“Help him,” I said helplessly, wishing my legs would work so I could run to him. I caught Jesse’s arm falling to the side of the bed. It was a beacon to me—I wanted to hold his hand. Ineededto.
“Susan, take me in there,” I said, as we were still in the doorway.
“June, they need to?—”
“Please!” I begged, tears streaming down my cheeks. “He can’t go like this. I need to see him. He needs his hat. I need to be with him. Please, Susan. That’s my husband. I want to be with my husband.”
She pushed me inside, stopping to retrieve Jesse’s hat, which I clutched tightly. I brought it to my nose. It smelled of him—woodsy and smoky.
Once inside, I tried to reach for Jesse’s hand. I managed to grip his fingertips just as my parents entered the room, followed by Jesse’s mama.
“No!” his mama screamed, and they all looked my way for explanation.
“He wouldn’t wake up,” I said, voice shaking, as the staff kept on working on him. “I couldn’t wake him up.” I couldn’t see Jesse’s face. I wanted to see his face. I wanted to see his eyes open, and I wanted to see him smile at me and tell me all this had just been a mistake, that he was fine.
“Please…” I begged everyone and no one at the same time.
My plea was lost in the void.
Dr. Duncan began hooking Jesse up to machines. Eventually, he turned to the room calmly and said, “His body is tired, and his organs are shutting down. I’ve given him medication to make him comfortable. But I’m afraid it won’t be long now.”
I broke down, racking sobs coming from my chest.
“Will he wake up? Will we get to say goodbye?” Jesse’s mama asked.
“Possibly. He may drift in and out of consciousness,” Dr. Duncan said. “Hopefully long enough for you all to say your goodbyes.”
“Good nights,” I said empathically, shaking my head. “We don’t say goodbyes, only good nights.”
Bailey arranged Jesse on our bed, so he was comfortable. When he had finished, my daddy lifted me onto our bed beside him. I shifted until I could lay my head against Jesse’s chest. Cynthia was on his other side, holding his hand.
I had known this moment was coming—for both of us. But now that it was here, I…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lose him. My mama and daddy sat beside me, each putting a supportive hand on my leg.
There was so much love in this room, it was palpable. There was so much strength, and I wanted Jesse to wake up to see it, to feel it.
I lay there for I didn’t know how long when Jesse’s body moved under my cheek. I sat up, breath held, waiting… Then Jesse’s eyes flickered open, and his confused gaze looked around the room.
Cynthia glanced up at her son.
Confused eyes then looked at me and the haze in Jesse’s green eyes cleared.
“Junebug,” he said, wincing like his throat hurt. “What…?” His breathing was labored, and he must have seen in my terrified eyes what was happening. His eyes filled with tears. “Don’t…cry…Junebug,” he rasped and lifted his weak hand to brush away my tears.
I leaned over and kissed him. I kissed every part of his face. I kissed his lips and then his hand. “I love you,” I said, and realization sparked on Jesse’s face. “I love you, I love you.”
“How long?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, and I broke. I lowered my head to his chest, and he ran his hand over my scalp.
“My…sisters,” Jesse said, and I knew he must have been speaking to his mama.
“I’ll get them, son,” my daddy said.
I couldn’t let go of Jesse. I wanted to die with him. I didn’t want to be here in this life without him. We were meant to do this together. I didn’t want to be left behind.
“It’s…okay…Junebug,” he said, his voice becoming a little clearer the more he was using it.
I lifted my head, and he wiped my tears. “Don’t leave me,” I begged, and pain flashed in Jesse’s gaze.
