Three Hearts One Soul (The Soul Series #1) (18 page)

“Hey Handsome,” I say to Jase, walking into his room one Friday morning after a well needed run.

He looks awful today. His skin is grey, his eyes are sunken and he has tubes coming out of him everywhere. His breathing is short, heavy and clearly painful. He hasn’t eaten for two days and he’s on a drip for fluids. I grip his hand and smile down at him, he looks up at me, his brown eyes bloodshot and tinged with grey. I stroke his cheek, then lean down and kiss his lips softly.

“Nev,” he croaks.

“I’m here, are you hurting? Do you need a nurse?”

He shakes his head so slowly, it’s as though it’s in slow motion.

“What do you need honey?” I whisper.

“Whiskey…you…call him.”

I swallow, feeling sickness rise. Jase doesn’t look good, he doesn’t look good at all. “O-ok.”

I grip my phone and look down at him for a long, long moment before walking out of the room. It’s one of those moments of dread, where you can feel it invading your chest and cutting off your air supply. So when Doctor Wilson begins walking towards me, I know what he’s going to say, even though I haven’t admitted it to myself yet. He stops in front of me and his blue eyes scan my face with…is that sympathy? I suddenly realize how it feels to be on the other end of bad news.

“Nevaeh, can we have a word?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice has gone into hiding.

“It’s about Jase.”

My world spins. I know what’s coming. I’ve known it was coming since the night Jase went back into hospital. He’s been fading quickly and I always knew his time frame of a month or so was no way near correct. It was a way to give us faith, hope. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly, because no one can ever really be sure how long someone has left to live, no matter how qualified that person is. We can’t play god, it’s just not possible. I reach out and place my hand on the wall, steadying myself.

“It’s nearly time, isn’t it?” I croak.

“It is time Nevaeh, Jase’s cancer was far, far more aggressive then we could have imagined. His body is tired, he’s tired. He’s had enough. He’s stopped fighting. He
wants to go. He hasn’t eaten for days, his breathing is ragged, he’s asleep more than he is awake. Jase is ready to go, Nevaeh. I think it’s time you call his family.”

I hear my loud, gut wrenching sob before I realize it’s coming from me. Doctor Wilson takes my arm, steadying me but I can’t feel his fingers, I can’t feel anything, all I can feel is that gut wrenching numbness that is sweeping over my body and gripping my heart.

“Would you like me to call them?”

“No,” I sob. “I’ll do it.”

With a hand so shaky I don’t know how I actually get it to my ear, I call Whiskey. He answers on the first ring.

“Heaven, are you ok?”

“Whiskey…” I say in a voice so broken, I hardly recognize it. “It’s Jase…he’s…you all need to come to the hospital.”

Whiskey doesn’t answer, he just hangs up. With trembling legs, I walk back into Jase’s room. He’s got his eyes closed, his breathing is shallow and fast and for the first time, I see no life in his body. Not a tiny flush in his cheeks, not
a warmth in his face. Nothing. It’s gone. Jase is slipping away. With tears pouring down my cheeks, I walk over to the bed and take his hand. He opens his eyes, staring up at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but has to swallow many times to get his words out. Even when he does they’re hoarse.

“I…I want to…I want to say so much,” he whispers.

“Jase, you can’t go,” I rasp, my tears dripping onto his hand. “I don’t want you to go. I’m not ready for you to leave me yet, please Jase, please.”

“It’s my time,” he rasps, touching his chest.

“No,” I sob. “Jase, no.”

“You’re going to be ok,” he says, his voice so hoarse and raspy I hardly recognize it.

“I…no…Jase…please…”

“
Shhhh, I’m not in pain now Nev, I feel ok…I want this. I’m tired. I’ve had enough.”

It’s a large sentence that takes him a good few minutes to get out. Each word is followed with a rasp or a heart breaking cough. I hear the sounds of Katie and John as they run down the halls. A moment later they burst through the doors, Whiskey
close behind. They’re all crying. Each and every one of them. Katie runs over, taking Jase’s hand. John leans against the wall, steadying himself and Whiskey just stares at Jase, as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“No, my baby boy, please,” Katie cries, gripping Jase’s hand.

Jase looks at me. “Let me talk with mum and dad,” he croaks. “I will talk to you and Whiskey after.”

Nodding, I pull my hand from his and follow Whiskey out the door. Neither of us
speak as we sit on the chairs outside the room. We just sit, tears thundering down our cheeks, our chests heaving, as we wait. Nurses come past, some stop and offer help, others simply nod and pat our shoulders. Half an hour passes and when Katie and John come out, Katie is hysterical. John leads her down the hall and I turn to Whiskey, knowing this will be the last time we speak to Jase. The last time we’ll all be together. The pain in my chest, I couldn’t even come close to describing. Death would be a kinder alternative.

We both stand, forcing our numb legs to walk us into Jase’s room. When we get to the bed, we each take one of his hands. He looks between us, his face has gone an ever deeper shade of grey and that frightens me. Jase strokes both our hands and then begins speaking. The words he speaks take him such a long time to get out, I wonder if he’ll make it through, but he does and we listen to every, last rasp of his voice. Cherishing every last second we have with him.

“You two have been my life for so long. You’re everything I lived for. We let it slip away, but we found it again. I’m going but that doesn’t mean you two can’t hold on to what we have. You two love each other, I know you don’t want to admit it but you do. A love like ours doesn’t come around many times and you should hold onto it with both hands. I’m going to a better place and behind me I’m going to leave pain and heart break. I want you two to promise me you’ll lean on each other, you’ll love each other, you’ll fight for each other because in life, you need someone to fight for you. Promise me, in this moment, with all our hearts combined, that you’ll be there for each other and you’ll not run again?”

I look up at Whiskey and he’s crying so heavily his body is shaking. He makes a pained, broken bellow and then he slowly nods his head. “I promise.”

“I promise too,” I gasp.

Jase takes his hand and presses it to my heart,
then he places it on Whiskey’s heart, then his.

“Three hearts,” he rasps.

He grips all our hands in his, and it’s cold, clammy and weak. He places all three of our hands on his heart. “One soul.”

Whiskey cries out loudly and leans down, wrapping his arms around Jase and pulling him to his chest. There he cries and cries until his body is heaving and he’s gasping for his next breath. He puts him down, strokes his cheek and whispers, “I love you brother, always.”

“Take care of her Whisk,” Jase wheezes.

He nods and then grips Jase’s face, running his thumbs over his cheeks. “I just…I need a minute. I will be back? Ok? Just give me one minute.”

Jase nods so slowly it breaks my heart. Whiskey hugs him and murmurs another I love you before rushing out of the room. I take the chance to crawl into Jase’s bed. I wrap my arms around him and I hold him to me, pressing his head to my chest.

“I love you Jase, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Those are the last words he speaks to me.
It’s strange how you know the exact moment that life is no longer in someone, I knew the exact moment. One minute I was stroking his head, then suddenly I was sliding my fingers down to find the pulse in his neck. When I discovered it was no longer thudding, everything in my world fell to pieces. I shifted him off me and panic set in. I began pumping his chest, crying out his name and screaming that it wasn’t his time. Hysterical doesn’t begin to imagine how I felt in that moment.

Keeping oneself together is probably the best way to behave, but it doesn’t always happen that way when you’ve just lost someone you love. Desperation, fear, pain and agony sets in and you don’t want to believe what’s in front of you. For me, being a nurse set in and I pumped and pumped his chest, desperate for him to start breathing again. This can’t be it. This can’t be where my story ends. It can’t be where his story ends. Heaving for breath, I push on his chest and press my lips to his, blowing air into his lungs. I feel someone grip my arms, but I slap them away with a pained, agonizing scream.

“No, he’s not gone. Jase, wake up. Wake up.”

“He’s gone,” Doctor Wilson whispers gently.

“No,” I scream, hysterically pumping Jase’s chest. “He’s not. Jase no, please, baby, wake up. I’m not ready to lose you. Jase, please.”

“Nevaeh, he’s gone.”

“No,’ I wail, letting my body drop onto his. I wrap my arms around him and I cry so hard my body convulses. I press my head to his chest, as though in doing that his heart might begin beating again.

It doesn’t though. Jase is gone. My special soul, my kind spirit, he’s gone. I’ll never see him smile again. I’ll never hear his laugh. I’ll never feel his arms around me. I’ll never see those brown eyes sparkle. He’s gone. Jase is gone. Doctor Wilson gently lifts me from his body and tries to pull me from the room.

“Jase,” I cry, stretching my fingers out, as though one last touch will make it all better.

“Come on,
shhh, come on.”

“Jase, please, wake up!”

“He’s gone, Nevaeh, he’s gone.”

“No,” I cry, struggling. “No!”

Doctor Wilson gets me into the hall and through my haze of hysteria, I see Whiskey on his knees by the waiting chairs, crying. Katie and John are wrapped in each other, sobbing heavily. They know. Whiskey looks up at me when he notices my struggling. Somehow he pushes to his feet, and walks over. He grips me from Doctor. Wilson’s arms and hurls me to his chest. I tangle my fingers in his shirt and we slide down the wall together, wrapped in each other, both of us feeling the same pain.

There are no words to describe the pain we are all feeling in that moment. What words could possibly be used to explain the pain of losing someone? There are none. There aren’t even any that come close. I shake and tremble as Whiskey keeps his arms around me. My mind spins and darkness threatens to take over. I want it to. I want darkness to take me away from this heart wrenching pain in my chest that is causing my entire body to constrict and struggle. I want it to just take me away, for a moment. So I give in, I give in to the darkness and the last word I rasp is, “Jase.”

Chapter 15

TWO WEEKS LATER

Jase’s funeral was utterly heart breaking. He made Whiskey promise to sing, and so he did. Whiskey filled the church with his soulful voice, as he sung Jase’s favourite song. “
If you’re gone, maybe you need to come home, there’s an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move…”
  We all just sat in silence, listening to Whiskey’s voice. The rest of the service was a blur to me, I spent most of it in a numb haze. I hadn’t shed a tear since the day Jase died, I just gave in to the drowning sensation of feeling my body close in on itself.

Two weeks on and that feeling hasn’t changed. I get out of bed each day, I feed myself,
then I curl back up and stay that way. I just can’t function, the pain in my chest just won’t ease. Whiskey went back to wherever he came from, promising to come back and see me in a few weeks. He hasn’t come back yet. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t come back to this pain either. He’s tried to call. I haven’t answered. What’s the point? Whiskey isn’t going to stay with me, he isn’t going to give up whatever life he’s created to be with me just because we had one night of passion.

Day fifteen and
I’m in the kitchen, forcing the coffee maker to make me yet another coffee to keep the haze away. It’s this day that will change my life as I know it. When I hear the doorbell ring, I assume it’s my dad, or Tanya, or even Katie or John who have been over grieving with me. When I answer it, dressed in cotton pyjama pants and a tank, with hair that hasn’t been brushed for days, I see a delivery boy. He smiles and hands me an envelope. I stare down at it, and when I recognize the writing, my chest heaves.

“Good day miss,” the delivery boy says, then walks off.

I stare at the envelope, my fingers numb, my heart pounding. Maybe it’s just similar writing, but to me it sure looks like Jase’s writing. Stumbling back into my unit, I fall onto the couch and tear the paper open, revealing a neatly folded letter. Swallowing and feeling my chest clenching, I slowly unfold it. When I see the neat scroll, I gasp and make a pained, strangled sound. It’s from Jase. I don’t know how he did it, but he did. He managed to have a letter sent after he died. With blurring eyes, I read the words.

Dear Nevaeh,

If you’re reading this, then I’m gone. I conned Doctor Wilson into keeping these letters until two weeks after I died, then I made him promise to send them to you. I know it’s been two weeks and I know how you’re feeling right now. I bet you’re dressed in pyjama pants and you haven’t brushed your hair for a week. Nev, baby, that’s not what I want from you. I’m gone now, and I’m no longer in pain. I don’t want you to let yourself crumble because of me. I want you to move on, to love, to find friendship and make yourself a beautiful life. I want you to keep me in your heart always, and tell stories of me to your children one day, but until that time, Nev, I want you to survive.