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Authors: Cristy Marie Poplin

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BOOK: Our Last Time: A Novel
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Slowly, his smile did in fact fade, and his eyebrows crinkled together. “What do we do, then?” he asked, a bit exasperated. “Because the more time I spend around you, the more I want to be in your future, and I don’t know if I can be a part of your future, because I could have my third heart attack any minute, and the last could come soon after, and I don’t want to die if I have someone to live for-”

I had cut him off by pressing my lips to his. Just one kiss - a simple peck. “You worry too much,” I whispered, because he truly did - I did, too. I wanted the both of us to worry less.

“How could I not worry when I believe I’m doomed, Willow? When I have you standing in front of me, it makes me worry that much more,” he spoke, his voice hushed.

“Who are you, Shakespeare?” I teased.

He smiled at that, leaving me a bit relieved. “You’re comparing me to Shakespeare,” he said, suddenly grinning again. “How could I say goodbye to you, Willow?”

I shrugged, simply. “You don’t have to.”

“You really don’t want me to?” he asked curiously.

“That’s the last thing I want,” I answered honestly, as I sat down on the edge of his bed next to him.

He took a quick intake of air. “I’m feeling really weak right now,” he whispered. He was looking at my lips, and I knew what he meant at that moment. He wanted to kiss me.

“I never feel strong around you,” I admitted. “Only you. I don’t have a clue to why that is.”

As a response, he caressed my cheek.

I hadn’t found Wyatt intimidating. That wasn’t it. I could read Wyatt like an open book. I knew Wyatt Blanquette. His darkest secrets - what made him tick. I knew that he wanted me. I knew that he was scared. I knew he craved perfection, and I knew he was the most self-absorbed being I’d ever encounter. I had known I’d fall in love with him if I hadn’t said goodbye to him today- and at this very moment, I wasn’t afraid of loving Wyatt. In this moment, I was ready to take on Wyatt’s pain, and I was determined to convince him that he could trust me with his heart.

So, I looked him in the eyes. “
This
,” I said to him, as I brought the tip of my finger from the center of my chest to his.

He smiled, and then he kissed me. A simple peck was what he gave me, which
told me
, somehow - that we were on the same page. He flattened my hand so it’d be lying over his heart. Then he had placed his hand over mine.

“This,” he echoed.

June 3
rd
, 1997, 12:00a.m.

Kennedy

 

 

 

I hadn’t known how
I was going to break the news to her. The day I wore my unhappy clothes, I had planned to tell her then. I had it mapped out in my head, and though I was afraid, I was going to sit her down and slowly break the news to her. We were going to cry together. I knew we’d both cry. I had the courage built, but then she had blurted out that Calvin Steelton had asked her out on a date, and that she told him maybe.

I couldn’t follow that with an “I’m dying” story. I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t do that to myself - I hadn’t known how to work around it, so I hadn’t.

Now she had known. I hadn’t even opened my mouth. She had a suspicion, and she could tell by the look on my face. The cancer was back.

I was seven when I first got brain cancer, and the surgery had been doable then - it was successful. I had one cancerous tumor removed from my brain at seven years old.

At eighteen years old, I had brain cancer, grade 4 glioblastomata. Because of where the tumor was located it, it was a terminal brain tumor.  On
May 25
th
, 1997
, my doctor told me I had five to six months to live.

Eventually, the tumor would affect my mental health negatively. My final stages, I’d vomit profusely, get angry for no reason, develop vision abnormalities, have seizures, or maybe even lose the ability to move my legs. I hadn’t known what horrible symptoms I’d eventually have, but I knew I would die. I was going to die this year. How I’d tell Willow that? How I’d explain that to
her
?

It would be the most difficult thing to form in words. I wouldn’t want to look her in the eyes, but I’d have to. We would have to learn to make the best of this. So the last days I’d have with her, they wouldn’t be sad. I loved Willow. Every fiber within me reached for
her
.

Breaking her heart was going to be difficult. How could it not be difficult?

Her heart was already cracked. She knew I had cancer. She hadn’t known I was dying, but she had known I had cancer. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than that
one crack
in her heart that I had caused. When I saw that look in her eyes, I had to excuse myself during lunch at school so I could go to the bathroom and silently cry. I had hurt her. I couldn’t bear it.

I never wanted to leave her like this. Not this soon - she was the love of my life, and I knew that I was hers.

She’d say it wasn’t fair. She’d say I couldn’t leave her.

How could I leave Willow like this? How could I die, and leave her? How could I tell her I was dying, even though I was undoubtedly dying?

I had to tell her she’d live a great life without me eventually. She’d be sad for a while, and I knew that, but she would live a great life
eventually
.

I was sitting on my porch steps, waiting for her arrival. A blanket I had wrapped in a twist next to me.

I had to give her hope. I had to let her know that I had hope for her future. I was dying, but I was going to die knowing I spent most of my life with my favorite person. My best friend. My forever; the love of my life.

Willow.

I sniffed as I held my head back. I was not going to cry again. I was going to keep it together, because I had to. I had to convince her she’d be okay again someday, because I was going to be gone soon.

I hadn’t wanted Willow to miss me when I’d be gone, even though I knew she would. There were never any misunderstandings when it came to how we felt towards one another. We loved each other, and we loved each other
so much
that we hadn’t wanted to spend time with anyone else. Just me and Willow - Willow and me.

We were
just
Willow and Kennedy. No one else.

When I’d be gone, she’d be without her other half - me - and I hated that I had to leave her here without me, though there was no other way and we couldn’t try and make it any other way.

Willow and I were screwed. She’d be okay again someday. I’d die and be put at rest, and maybe that was what I needed - but I only thought about what Willow needed. I only thought about Willow’s feelings, and I was scared of how bad fate would hurt them.

Worry was something I wanted to avoid. I only avoided worrying when I was spending time with Willow. At this moment, I needed Willow.

As I stared ahead looking for a distraction, I decided I believed in clockwork. Willow was
here
. She was pedaling fast on her bicycle. I saw her in the distance, and now she was coming up my driveway. We made eye contact, and I smiled, because usually I couldn’t refrain from smiling every time I saw Willow.

Her smile was
tight
and fixed there on her beautiful face, but I tried not to pay attention to that. She jumped off her bike, and then she had attacked me.

For a small teenage girl, she hugged forcefully. I expected as much. My arms were wrapped around her just as tightly, and I lifted her up off the ground.

“Hello,” she said into my neck, her breath hitting my skin.

“Hello,” I said, relieved.

I wanted to tell her I loved her. At many points in my life, I thought about just telling her. I never did, though. I always procrastinated regarding that idea. I was afraid of losing my best friend. I had two days to tell her before I had to attend my doctor visit. I hadn’t taken advantage of those two days before the doctor visit. I thought it’d be like all the other visits, but I had been surprised. I felt crushed, now, because I couldn’t tell her I loved her. I had a terminal tumor in my brain. I knew I couldn’t get Willow’s hopes up. I couldn’t be a part of her future, and I hadn’t wanted her to think that I could.

I had lost my chance to tell her, but she knew. The need to tell her would never go away, but she knew I loved her. I could die as long as she knew I loved her more than I loved myself.

Spare of the moment affection overload I wanted so badly to unleash on her - but I couldn’t, now. I was thinking I’d be okay with that, because I had this with her. And this with
her
was the best thing in the world, I believed.

“It’s back, isn’t it?” she asked in a muffled whisper.

I put her down on her feet as she made eye contact with me, and asked, “How bad is it this time?”

I sighed, but I hadn’t said anything. I grabbed the wrapped blanket I had sitting on the step, and I laid it out on the grass close by.

“Come lay down with me,” I said simply.

She crossed her arms. “Kennedy, please answer me,” she urged.

“Can we watch the stars for now?” I countered. “Just for now, Will. Trust me,” I said, trying to ease her into it.

I hadn’t wanted Willow to be scared. I wanted her to be comfortable. I wanted her to feel safe with me.

She gave in, and we laid there for a few seconds. My elbow just barely touched hers when I turned my head to the side so I could see her face, and I said, “There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight. They don’t happen often. They’re probably cool to watch, so I was thinking you’d want to watch one with me.”

A hint of a smile touched her lips.

“I wouldn’t feel right about watching a meteor shower with anyone else,” she responded. “I’ve never seen a flying meteor before.”

“Me, neither,” I admitted. I reached out to grab her hand and I squeezed it as we both looked off, and stared into the sky.

“Have you ever studied the sky hard enough to where you could spot the closest star to you? The biggest star; the
best
star. You look around for a while, but that
one star
has your attention. You don’t forget where that star is,” she said, as she stretched one of her arms behind her head. “Look,” she pointed at a star in the sky. “That’s my star. It’s the chosen one. I didn’t ask for it to be my star. That star just so happens to be the star that I don’t want to forget,” she shrugged. “I want to rely on that star,” she whispered.

“The star looks convincing,” I offered. “It’s seemingly brighter than all the others. Maybe this star has a name, you know? Maybe this star has a good sense of humor. Maybe this star contains all of the things that you like.”

She stared at the side of my face for a while through the silence. “Kennedy, I don’t want to look at stars anymore. Can we talk?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“We’re talking now,” I said.

“You know what I mean,” she mumbled.

I wasn’t going to talk about it now. We were going to wait for the meteor shower. We were going to watch the meteor shower. After the meteor shower, I was going to tell her.

“Can you wait until after the meteor shower, Willow? I just want to spend time with you.”

“We always spend time together,” she replied immediately, as she sat up. I sat up, too, as she continued, “I want to know whether the cancer is back, or not. I need to know.”

I was stalling for a reason. I hadn’t wanted this night to be ruined, or too sad. I wanted Willow to be okay tonight.

“Willow, I’m begging you to watch the meteor shower with me,” I said, as I grabbed both of her hands and squeezed them tightly. I looked right into her eyes. “Please wait for the meteor shower with me. I want to watch it with you.”

She stared at me blankly for a second, and I noticed her chin quiver - like she was about to
cry
.

I had taken a deep breath. “Take a deep breath with me, Willow,” I whispered, soothingly.

She sniffed as she furrowed her eyebrows together in confusion. “Why?” she asked softly.

“I need you to be okay,” I answered. “Just please, Willow, take a deep breath and watch the stars with me for a while.”


Tell me
you’re not leaving me,” she said, raising her voice slightly. Her eyes watered, and I swore to myself that if I witnessed Willow shed tears over me, I’d indefinitely lose all sense of my mentality.

I did the one and only thing I knew to do - because I panicked. I grabbed her, and held her to me. I held the back of her head with one hand as I kissed her forehead, her cheek pressed to my chest. “I’m sorry,” I said, as I slowly started sobbing. I said those words over and over again, as I held Willow. We cried together as meteors soared through the sky above us, and
I knew
that another’s vulnerability could
never
be this painful.

August 31
st
, 2006, 7:31a.m.

Willow

 

 

 

Yesterday, I had watched
Wyatt leave the small hospital right after our little moment. He wore the clothes he apparently arrived in, and to say he was
tantalizing
would have been an understatement. All he had to do was sign himself out, like he had been at an obligatory event, or work, or maybe even school. Yesterday was the day he was ready to leave. Maybe he was ready to meet his students. Maybe he was ready to meet Annette.

I hadn’t known the details of his reasoning. I was able to read his face and his body language - not his mind. And now that the truth was out between Wyatt and me, I hadn’t really known how to react to it.

What now?
I had asked myself multiple times. I was simply unsure, though I hadn’t had any bad feelings. I hadn’t even had unfamiliar feelings. They were just
feelings
I hadn’t felt in a very long time: I was nervous, I was excited, and of course, I was scared.

It was the stages before love that made me feel these things. The anticipation of love was beyond rattling. The feeling hadn’t been touched since Kennedy, but then Wyatt came along. Wyatt came, and made me feel like this. He made me feel like love could become something real again.

I was taking Annette to school early today. I was going to walk inside with her, but only because Wyatt had said to me, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” before getting on the elevator yesterday. I had watched him wink at me for the first time before the elevator doors closed. Tessa was going on about a patient she hadn’t enjoyed caring for, and I had purposely tuned out most of what she had said. It had been because of Wyatt and his tendency to captivate me. I knew then that he expected to see me today. He’d be wearing a suit, probably, and I was ready to see him in one. I intended to wear normal clothes, because Wyatt was so used to seeing me in scrubs. I had planned to change in my car in the parking lot at work and if someone saw me (I had thought about this prior), I’d play it off as no big deal. I was ready to see Wyatt as Mr. Blanquette and I knew he was ready to see me as
just
Willow.

The school doors had opened at seven-thirty every morning each weekday. Annette was constantly groaning as we walked towards those doors, because I made her get up a little earlier and she hadn’t wanted to go to school early.

As a compromise, I just kept telling her, “I have a conference with your
real
teacher today.”

She’d catch on to that lie eventually if I kept using it as a daily excuse to see Wyatt, I had thought at the time. But I knew Wyatt and I would find other ways to find each other. All we had to do was make plans; go on
dates
, possibly. Learn to tolerate each other more, but
up close
sooner than later.

I hadn’t wanted to treat him like a dirty secret. I wanted the world to see us together and I wanted to be his. I wanted him to want me as his. I hoped he had hope for us.

“Mommy,” Annette pulled on my hand and had forced me to stop where I was. We were standing directly in front of the double doors to her school.

“Yes, sweetie?” I responded quietly. I was trying not to let the vein in my neck look noticeable as I watched the cars on the highway pass the school entrance.

“You’re acting really weird and I don’t think you really have a meeting with my real teacher today,” Annette sighed. “Why are you so weird today, mommy?”

My daughter thought I was
weird
today. I knew she was too smart to believe that lie I had made up. I released her hand, knelt in front of her, and then looked her in the eyes. “Baby, I am meeting someone very important here today at your school. He just so happens to be your real teacher. Would you understand if I told you mommy had a crush?” I spoke cautiously. I had never talked to Annette about crushes, not even
guys
in general. Maybe it was because I had only two genuine crushes in my lifetime. One was her dead father whom she never met, and the other was Wyatt, who I was mentioning to her now.

To my surprise, she had given me a wide smile, and said, “I just want you to be happy, mommy.”

I smiled at that. “This stays between us,” I whispered.

“I won’t tell,” she’d promised.

I was on the brink of tears as I hugged my daughter tightly. She had been the best daughter in the world. I wanted everyone that deserved to know her to know her. She could be the brightness in everyone’s life.

“You’re my angel every day,” I told her before kissing her cheek; she was grinning up at me as I stood to my feet.

She’d grabbed my hand and squeezed it. The feeling was all too familiar, but different in a way that was new and more comfortable. “Let’s go meet your crush,” Annette smiled goofily.

“Your real teacher,” I corrected.

She nodded. “Sorry,” she whisper-shouted.

“I love you, Annette.”

I was smiling, she was smiling. “I love you, too, mommy.”

We went inside and the walk to the classroom seemed longer than I had remembered. I was a box of nails in a washing machine. My nerves couldn’t handle the anticipation of Wyatt. Not after yesterday;
never
after yesterday.

“What room number is it again?” I asked Annette.

She simply shrugged. “I don’t remember, mommy.”

I was practically sprinting as I dragged Annette behind me, looking for this room. After cutting two corners and listening to Annette continuously say, “Nope, that’s not it,” I almost gave up, and shouted Wyatt’s name. But around the
next
upcoming corner, I had managed to stop in front of a very tall man wearing black dress pants and a long-sleeved polo colored a deep blue. There sat a basket of heart suckers at his feet.

“Morning, Willow.” His voice caused the development of chills, all over me. I looked up,
slowly
, and the only thing I could come up with as a response was kind of a word, but not really.

“Gawd,” I muttered, as I fawned and fawned and
fawned
more than I ever have before.

There he was. With his perfected hair, those distracting eyes, his handsome face, that casted left arm, those juicy thighs, and his caveman feet that had
shoes
covering them.

“Morning, Wyatt,” I crooked a smile.

At the corner of my eye, I saw Annette make her way into the classroom, careful not to interrupt us. He knelt to the ground, but he never took his eyes off mine. He grabbed a heart shaped sucker from the basket, but only
this one
had something taped to it.

He hadn’t handed it to me. He stood in front of me, and then he put the sucker in the pocket of my jeans, leaving the heart-shape of the sucker sticking out so it’d be visible.

“I’m going to miss seeing you in room
209
today,” I stated casually.

He smiled, simply, then he stepped a foot backward so he’d be standing inside the classroom. He made a pointing gesture towards the ceiling, so I’d look up.

“But Willow, you’re looking at me as I stand in room
209
, now,” he said to me, and I looked up to find the room number assigned to his classroom.

“Coincidental?”

“No, I just, like… have weird preferences.”

I agreed by nodding.


So
, when do you think I should read this note you left me on this heart-shaped sucker?”

He licked his lips as he processed the question, but he seemed to have expected me to ask it. He looked over his shoulder to give Annette both a wave and a thumbs up. She returned both gestures before he closed the door with him on the outside of the classroom.

Now it was just me and Wyatt, Wyatt and me, and in this empty hallway within a very empty school. Our feelings were in the air before. Now we were making eye contact in this spacious setting. Between the
first
two seconds before, and the three seconds
after
that door closed, the air had
absorbed
into us as if it were a liquid that became a solid; we couldn’t breathe. We
felt
absolutely everything.

“When you’re alone,” he answered, moments after an intense yet silent eye to eye session.

I cringed, suddenly.

“Why can’t you tell me what it is you’ve written here? Why does it have to remain a secret until I’m alone?”

He sighed. “I’m trying to be mysterious and sexy, Willow. Why can’t you just go with it?” he grumbled.

I smiled as I tried not to laugh in his face. “Wyatt, we’re adults, you know.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but Willow, there is never a bad time to hand out notes. There is never a time when you should stop handing out notes. And most importantly, there is not an age limit for note exchanges. I do what I want and I want you to listen to me. Just this one time.”

He was seemingly begging. He wanted me to take this seriously. And I then realized:
why would I not?

I had let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I’ll go with it, then. Just this once, though.  You’re sexy and mysterious all on your own, Wyatt. But not when you’re
trying
to be.”

He smirked that cocky smirk of his, the one that used to make my blood boil.

“You think I’m sexy?”

He sounded flattered and surprisingly surprised, and I was starting to feel like this exchange was way too junior high.

“I mean, of course. I wanted to know what it would be like to kiss a guy that looked as good as you when I first saw you. You’re like a super-hot guy, and I want to lick your face all the time.”

“Really?”

“No,” I answered immediately, snorting. “You’re attractive, yes, but when I first met you, I hated everything about you. Especially your good looks.”

He smiled warmly. “I apologized for my behavior, Willow. Are there still hard feelings?”

I backed up a few steps, expecting him to follow. When he did, I simply said, “No.”

I waited for him to close the space between us and kiss me or something, but he never did. He just stared at me the same way he always did.

“You’re attracted to me, right?” I blurted out.

I hadn’t understood why he wasn’t attempting to suck my face, or fondle me in some type of way. Was it because of our location? Was it because he thought I’d reject him?

His eyes had widened, and he looked kind of pissed off as his eyebrows furrowed together.

“What kind of dumb fucking question is that?” he whispered, cursing under his breath. I opened my mouth to tell him I was sorry, but he quickly motioned for me to stay quiet.

“Look, I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on. Inside and out, Willow. I want you to read that note when you’re alone, because I don’t have the stability to watch you read it in front of me. But I want you to understand this right here and right now,” he said, his breaths more erratic than before.

I believed my heart had stopped beating as his pupils dilated. He was intently looking me in the eyes as he continued, “I have never been drawn to a person as I’m drawn to you. When I saw you for the first time, I’d still see
you
when I’d look away. At first it pissed me off, but then I got addicted. I started wanting more things from you and I was willing to change my attitude for
you
, so you’d listen to me. More than anything, Willow, I wanted you to like me. I wanted you to be my friend. I wanted you to expect me every day. I wanted you to smile because of me. And there’s more,” he said, as he stepped a foot closer.

“But I can’t say
more
out loud. I can only express so much out loud and it’s because I’m adjusting to the person I want to be for
you
. And I apologize if this in its own is too much too soon, but you asked for it. You wanted this, so I’m telling you. I can’t look you in the eyes anymore without giving you the truth somehow. The truth might scare you. The truth might make you regret everything that has developed between us, but it’s what you need at this point. So I’m giving it to you. Please know that I am serious about this. I know we’re adults and I know this is crazy, but all we can do is go with it for now.”

I took deep and controlled breaths as we stared at each other for a few seconds. Through his tangent, he had walked up to me and he grabbed my face. I had never felt so overpowered,
so moved
by the words of a man. And I knew that whatever he had to say to me, but couldn’t say out loud, it’d be better off on paper. I wanted to keep his words forever, go back and read them whenever, and even if we didn’t end up together - I’d still have his words on paper.

“Wyatt, I don’t know what to say to all of that, besides…
thank you
,” I said.

He stroked my jawline with his thumb, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why ‘
thank you
?’” he asked curiously.

BOOK: Our Last Time: A Novel
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