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“I’m sorry, Nikki. What did you just say? I don’t remember.” Will sat there on the edge of his bed, looking down at the pills in his hand. I was sitting on the floor in front of him, looking slightly up at his face, his handsome face with chiseled cheeks appeared hollow with too much skin. When he glanced at me, my head dipped down to stare at my lap, where tears fell.

I tried again. “Will, Mary says you need to take them again. Now. With the morphine you just took.”

“I took them. I know I did. You’re trying to make me take more. You’re going to get into trouble. You can’t make me take more. It will make me…” Will paused. “Where’s Chris?” Will’s face seemed lost. He wasn’t all together there with me.

“Chris is at home, in Colorado.” I couldn’t stop crying. Had Will just accused me of trying to drug him, do harm to him…overdose him? I didn’t give up. “Mary was here earlier. She gave you some new medicines to take.”

Will was quiet for a moment and then looked down where I was sitting on the floor in front of his feet. He tilted his head to the left like a dog with a question. “Can you repeat the question?” He asked me. Then he looked up and raised his voice, making me jump in my own skin. “I don’t remember what you asked, what did you say?” I wasn’t even sure if he was talking to me. I remembered my father talking about losing Poppa a few years earlier. Daddy and his father were never very close, but my dad was with him for weeks before Poppa passed. Daddy said he spoke to people who weren’t there. He’d argue with the people who were there about the people who weren’t there. Or at least the people the living couldn’t see. Poppa talked about a baby someone left on the floor. Of course there were never any babies around the house while Poppa was taking his long journey to Heaven, but there were times when he’d speak fondly of the baby, concerned someone would step on it, and there were times when he’d resent the baby and everyone else around him because no one was caring for the baby, and all it did was cry. No one ever asked Poppa why he didn’t pick up the baby and move it or soothe it even. It was just something everyone accepted. I wasn’t sure if Will was going through some kind of dementia and talking, yelling at someone not there in the room with us or if he was talking to me in that manner.

“Nik. I’m sorry. I’m fuzzy. I don’t know what you asked me.” He was stuck on some question he thought I’d asked.

I tried to hide my tears, but it was pointless. My dry cracking cheeks would just have to take more. “I didn’t ask a question, Will. I just…I’m just trying to tell you it’s time to take your medicines.” I paused again, wiped my snotty nose on my arm, an action I was never inclined to do, even after my husband had taught our children at early ages they didn’t ever need tissues as long as they had clothing. Clearing my throat in effort to find strength and voice, I said to Will again, “Mary said to take these medicines. Even if you just had them, Mary said it’s time to take them again.” I told my first true lie and broke into motherhood with my long lost lover. “Mary just called, just a few minutes ago. I talked to her. She told me it’s time,” my voice was shaking. “It’s time now, Will. Mary needs you to take your medicine.”

Will bought it and put all the pills in his mouth at once. The thought of a newborn baby choking on something on my watch flashed through my mind again. In a split second, I was on my knees with the ginger ale can in one hand and my other hand holding the straw in place so it wouldn’t bob around in the carbonation and miss Will’s mouth when he needed it. I held my breath while I watched his face change as he swallowed each pill in his mouth. He let me hold the straw up to his mouth while he took the pills and once he was done, he waved my hands away and fell back onto the bed.

“I’m shorey, Nnn, I don’t know…” Will said to me. It sounded as if the morphine was kicking in, making him drowsy and slurring his words. I didn’t know what he was trying to say, but I thought he was trying to acknowledge he was aware. Aware, at least, he was falling apart. I felt like he knew me, he knew he had medicines to take, but he wasn’t sure if it was time to actually take them or if I was trying to push them on him too early.

I put the soda can down and helped him move his legs and feet into place on the bed. I couldn’t believe he let me help him get comfortable. Let me get close to him. I held his drink for him, his straw up to his mouth, then I was able to move his legs from an awkward position where he left them sitting while the rest of his body lay back. I smiled, made a small triumphant sound, and felt a huge sense of gratitude. He had let me in. And he didn’t die. He let me get close to him, even if only for a moment, and we had made it through something that would normally seem so small but felt like climbing Everest. New confidence built in me as I watched Will drift off to sleep. But the overwhelming positivity filling my heart was sucked dry once he was asleep, and I could hear his breathing; rattled, slow, and shallow. I went from feeling like I felt the first night he kissed me, when I could practically feel our hearts beating through the palms of our hands to feeling like I just found out my best friend, my lover, my partner, my future was dying before my eyes.

After a long while, Rebecca walked in with a paper bag filled with groceries in one hand and a twelve pack of ginger ale in the other. Will was sleeping peacefully, and I was in a ball on the floor in hysterics.

Rebecca rushed to put the groceries down and ran over to me. On her way, she looked at Will, doing the same thing I did every night when I went into my children’s rooms before I went to bed myself, watching his chest for movement, for breath, for life. After looking at Will, and hearing his breathing more than seeing it, she dropped down to me on the floor and put her arms around me. “Nikki,” she whispered. “Are you okay? What happened? Is Will okay?”

I realized she didn’t know if I was crying because I failed at caring for him while she was gone or because for the fifty thousandth time it was hitting me, the reality of the situation I was in, the reality of the situation Will was in, and this woman in front of me, comforting me…Will’s wife. The room began to close in on me, and I felt cold.

“Will is…Will is fine. Oh, shit, Rebecca, I don’t know how to say it. He took his medicine just about fifteen minutes ago. He took them all.” I stopped talking, pulled my arms around my stomach, then sat up and stood up in one move. I had to move, I had to get out of there. “Rebecca, I know I break down at every turn. I’m sorry. Maybe I’m not built for this. Maybe…I think I just need to get out for a little. Are you okay if I get out for a bit?”

Rebecca stood next to me and tried to comfort me again, but I pushed her away and walked out the front door. Once outside, I fell to my knees, took my phone out of my pocket, and called someone I hadn’t spoken to in more than ten years.

Kristy was at Will’s house in less than ten minutes. I wasn’t sure where she was living, but it didn’t seem to take her any time to get down the road with speed bumps bigger than the best waves around. Before I had the strength to pull myself up from my knees, Kristy was doing it for me. With strength and control, she had me to my feet and her arms around me in a matter of seconds. She didn’t say a word; she didn’t need to. We had a history that melted years in seconds and one which never required words. After a few moments of not speaking, and with Kristy trying to control my sobs and shaking body, she folded me into her little car and drove me away, taking each speed bump carefully, as if I might break with each bump.

After several tense minutes, Kristy pulled into a little bar in town. When I was growing up, the bar was a grocery store where I held my first real paying job. Amazingly enough, after years and years, I walked through the same doors expecting to see racks of canned goods and fresh bread, but instead saw smoke hovering two feet above several tall tables, a quiet live band, and a table full of old friends awaiting my arrival. After only two steps into the bar, I was swarmed with people. The sun was still shining outside, but inside the smoke hovered and the lights were off. There were hugs, questions about my children, where my husband was, how long was I staying. For a moment I felt a sense of relief. There were so many people there who loved me and wanted to see me. Kristy headed to the bar and brought back two bottles of Coors Light for herself and me.

“Aww right, step back, e’eryone. Step. Back.” Kristy always knew how to take hold and control a crowd. It was one quality that made her one heck of a cop. “Now,” she said calmly and quietly with the tiniest bit of condescension, “Nikki Jackson Ford is here. But she’s not here for you.” Kristy paused again. “You. Are here for her. Some ya’ll may not know, but she’s here alone. Without her husband and those cute little kids she has back in that mile high city. She is here to watch someone she loves. That someone she is watching is dying. And she ain’t taking it so well.” She paused again as if she were waiting for all of it to sink in. There were a few oohhhs and ahhhs and some ohs from the small group, but I could tell a few already knew I was in town and exactly why I was in town. A few raised their glasses and someone said, “To Will.” The group repeated the toast and the chatter of the group commenced. One at a time or in groups of two, people came to me to give me a hug or say hello. I felt like I was in a receiving line at a funeral. That brought more tears streaming down my face.

I found out some people were already hanging out at The Sand Bar before Kristy got my call, but the ones who came out just to see me, Kristy had arranged as soon as she got off the phone with me. With modern technology, she was able to send out a group text and voila, instant company to make me smile or sing sad country songs with. That wouldn’t have happened years ago.

I spent the next three hours talking about my life at home, my children, which was the easiest thing for me to speak of, and I listened to gossip about everyone I remembered, those I didn’t remember, and some I was pretty sure I’d never even known to begin with.

At 6:00pm, with the sunlight still shining outside and half the room having a bit too much to drink, I turned to Kristy, a dear old friend who dropped whatever she had on her afternoon agenda and managed to get a group of people together with no notice, and asked her to drive me back to Will.

“I left without telling Rebecca. You probably don’t know Rebecca; she’s Will’s wife.” Now it was time for Kristy’s head to turn sideways like a pup with a question. I was sure most people in town knew Will had gotten married, but Kristy lived a different life. She lived and worked in town, but stayed out of town to date and stayed out of town gossip. She was pretty high up on the list of people I adored and top of the list of people who never liked Will and never forgave him for breaking my heart. I realized with the gathering she had planned for me, to lift my spirits, I hadn’t had the chance to tell her about Will’s letter, why he asked me to be there, and more importantly, why he broke my heart so badly to begin with. “I left just after he took his last medicines, but I didn’t write anything down. It’s almost time for his next round, and I don’t want Rebecca to be there for those alone.” I started crying again. Kristy pulled me closer and gently wiped a tear before it fell from my cheek.

“Sure thing, Squirt. Let’s get you back.” She made an announcement to the people still gathered nearby our table about us leaving, instructed everyone to say their goodbyes, thanked them all for coming, then took off to the bar to pay our tab. I hugged again, listening to everyone’s sympathies and struggling to get through many names of people I just couldn’t remember from my early years living in Deltaville.

Kristy pulled into the circular drive way at Will’s house, got out, and opened my door for me. She took my hand and helped me out of the car and had her arm around my waist pulling me into a deep, meaningful hug before I could even take a breath. She whispered in my ear, “You are not alone. I am here. You have so many people here who love you and care for you. And I’m one of ‘em, Little Shit. I love you more than you’ll ever know. And I’m here for you. Always.” I tried to laugh at her calling me ‘Little Shit.’ It was a nickname she’d had for me since we were in high school. High school was also the first time she’d told me she loved me.

“I know, Kris. I know. And I can’t thank you enough. You showed up here like magic, no questions, just whisked me away to drink away my sorrows and solve my problems, even if only for a moment, and remind me of how much you care. I can’t thank you enough. Really. Look, I didn’t know half of those people at The Sand Bar this afternoon. I’m sure they don’t know me either, at least not anymore, but it was a good break. I really appreciate you doing that. I have no idea exactly how you did it, but I’ve never really understood how you managed to do most things.”

I hugged Kristy, turned, and walked away. I knew I’d be seeing her again. I’d either call because I needed a friend, or she’d just show up – because I needed a friend. She’d also know exactly when to do it, too.

“Anytime, Nikki, anytime, my dear. You call me if you need me. I’ll be here.” I could hear her talking as I walked into the house and gave her a last wave goodbye.

I hesitated just inside the doorway for several minutes, listening, feeling like an intruder and not wanting to face what was inside. A wave of guilt washed over me. At the first really difficult moment, I ran like an abused puppy dog, leaving Rebecca alone with Will.

I tiptoed inside, pausing every few steps to listen for talking, breathing, or crying, expecting all of those sounds to come from various places in the house. I heard nothing.

Nothing made me worry. As I turned away from the foyer and into the living room where Will was now living in his hospital bed, I did hear breathing. Short, shallow breaths coming from the bed. I looked around in the semi darkness for Rebecca and didn’t see her. Like I did with my children in my own home, I stood in front of Will, watching his chest heave up and down with each slow breath. I could hear his raspy lungs and the work they were doing supplying oxygen to his body, but I had to watch his body working, too.