My Deathbed
"That’s what they mean by the love that passeth understanding: that pride, that furious desire to hide that abject nakedness which we bring here with us, . . . carry stubbornly and furiously with us into the earth again." -William Faulkner, 'As I Lay Dying'
"Please...please, Reid...please..." Luke leans over me, crying. I'm sorry, Luke.
I ignore Luke's pleas and continue to look in Tom's direction. "So, you want Chris Hughes to have your heart? Is that right?" Tom asks.
I nod and mouth the word, "Yes," before slowly and painfully turning my head toward the last thing I will see on this earth, my anguished lover. My Luke.
"Who knew I had one to give?" I say weakly, looking straight into Luke's eyes, the faintest of smiles passing fleetingly across my lips and ever so briefly lighting my eyes, just for him. All for him.
Luke sobs and runs his fingers into the top of my hair. He touches me, his hand on my face, warm. Alive. I want to reach out to him, but my broken body won't allow it.
"No...no, you're not going anywhere. And neither is your heart. There's still so much that you have to do...so many patient's lives you have to save..."
Please, don't cry, Luke.
"...There are so many stupid, stupid arguments that we have to get into, and there are so many days that we have to spend together."
I don't want to go.
"Please, Reid...we haven't had enough days. We're just getting started; you can't leave me..."
I'm sorry. Luke. Stay close. I'm scared. Please, stay close.
"I love you."
I nod hoping that you see it and know that I accept and treasure your beautiful love. But I can feel the darkness creeping in. Luke, I know. I know. Thank you. My everything.
"You love me," my man weeps. Yes. Yes, I love you so much. Know it, please. Own it. I love you, I love you. I love you...
"You said you did, so please...please, you can't leave me."
My eyes close.
No.
Luke's warm lips are on mine.
Goodbye, Luke.
Blackness.