Page 115 of Free to Breathe
Holly and Charlie are walking around the grounds with Phil and Jason.
And Em is somewhere, getting more drinks, I think. To be honest, I really don’t care. I have the room to myself for the first time since very early this morning.
My grandfather called a few minutes ago, expecting we’d have heard more definitively from the surgical suite by now. He couldn’t entirely conceal the concern lacing his voice when I said we were still waiting, and ordered me to call back as soon as I knew anything before hanging up. As much as the little boy in me wishes he could be here, I can’t fault him for not offering. I know he took a considerable risk by showing up last night to provide us with his support. If he’d stayed, news broadcasters would be waiting for us when we stepped outside the front doors.
I’m just hoping we have the chance to make up for the missing years. Somehow, deep in my soul, I know if Corinna doesn’t make it, there will be nothing left of me. My heart’s beating only because hers is.
Maybe I need to take a page out of Corinna’s book and write my grandfather a letter letting him know that. Letting him know that if something happens to Corinna, my heart will never be the same. I will never be the same. It will be the end of me and not because I gave up, but because how does your heart continue to beat when your soul is so gone? It’s crucial for him to know I’ll never be the same again if she’s gone.
Over the course of the day, I’ve put together the pieces of the cards and notes she’s left me.
She thinks she’s going to die.
Pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes, I feel my stoicism crack, and misery floods every available space. The sounds coming out of me when I finally cut loose are wretched. Deep from the bottom of my soul, I howl my rage. How could she love me and expect to leave me at the same time as telling me she’s fighting for me?
“Because it offers her an ability not to break, Colby.” An unfamiliar feminine voice answers the words I didn’t know I said out loud.
I face the doorway and see a middle-aged woman wearing a comfortable sweater and jeans. “Who the hell are you?” I rasp, not the least bit embarrassed by the tears on my face.
The woman steps forward and offers her hand. “I’m Alice Cleary, Corinna’s psychologist.”
I’m taken aback. “You’re Alice?” I ask dumbly, even as I take her hand.
And then I smell something familiar. Chocolate caramel goodness.
“Do you know I was expecting to come down here and club you in the head so I could steal what’s in this package and run?” Alice jokes as she hands me a familiar white box.
I gape at her, then roar with laughter. “She swore I’d be eating store-bought cookies while she’s in recovery.”
Alice’s laugh is like an ancient car coughing to life—rusty, and in need of some oil. “Of course she did.” Nodding at the box, she asks, “Are you planning on sharing while you tell me what’s wrong?”
Before I can open my box, my cell alarm goes off.2:00 PM. Alice is bringing you your next card. There isn’t one for the family. I suspect the brownies will be enough. Love, Corinna
Showing Alice the text, I explain, “This is what’s been getting me through the day, until about twenty minutes ago.”
“What changed?” Alice asks as she sits.
I shake my head as I open the box. Inside is a card. Ignoring the overwhelming scent permeating the room, I open it.
Colby,
I know you too well, so stop being pissed. You’re thinking the wrong way. (I should have Keene slap you upside the head, but I figure you having to fight to hold on to your brownies is punishment enough.) Controlling today and telling you all how much I love you isn’t about giving up.
It’s about being thankful.
I’ve been introspective in the last few weeks. What would have happened to me if I never found Ali and Holly? Cass, Em, and Phil? Charlie? Caleb? Keene? You? I’d have died in my soul long before the tumor had any chance at me.
This was the best way I could think of to keep you all going and to finally get a chance to show my gratefulness by making you all laugh, making you smile, and holding you close in the place that’s the most important—my heart.
I’m in the other room fighting for our lives - the family’s for sure, but most especially yours and mine.
We’re so close to the finish, baby.
You’ll get to hold me soon, and I. Can’t. Wait.
I love you,
Corinna
