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“I’ll see you at the hospital Thursday morning.” The doctor cuts into my thoughts.
“Okay.”
I grab my coat off the back of the chair and slide it on before quickly exiting the office.
The fog that has surrounded me for the past forty minutes seems to lift slightly when the bright sun and frigid breeze hits my face as I step outside. Suddenly it all feels too real. I take a few deep breaths of the cold Chicago air, willing myself not to fall apart.
Shoving my hands deep into my coat pockets, I turn left, heading in the opposite direction of the apartment I share with my sister.
I don’t want to go home yet. I don’t want to look at Claire and utter the words that seem too unreal to even digest.
So instead I walk.
I walk for what seems like forever.
I walk until my toes are numb and my cheeks burn from the cold. I walk until I feel like I can’t walk anymore, yet I still have no desire to stop.
I’m finally seeing things as if it were one of my last days on Earth, because it very well may be. I walk around the park; appreciate the sights, the sounds, and smells. I go to my favorite coffee shop and order my favorite muffin. And even though I have absolutely no appetite, I eat it anyway so I can taste it one last time.
I walk block after block, trying to commit a tiny part of the city to my memory as if somehow I will be allowed to take it with me into the afterlife.
I’ve been walking for nearly two hours when I come across a small, trendy looking bar sitting on the corner and have the overwhelming urge to go inside.
The sun has begun to set and my nose is so cold I feel like it might fall right off my face, but that’s not why I want to go inside. Maybe it’s because bars are where people go when they’re at their lowest or maybe it’s because I’ve never actually been inside one. And this very well might be my last chance.I guess there’s no better time to check it off my bucket list.
I push through the front door and walk right in like I’ve been there a million times. I briefly look around the lightly crowded space as I head directly for the bar located at the back of the open room. I pass a few empty tables and stools before claiming a seat at the very end of the bar where it curves into an L shape, placing my back to the wall and giving me a view of the entire room.
Sliding off my coat, I hang it on the back of the chair before taking my seat. Less than a minute passes before a woman, maybe in her late twenties, who has more tattoos than she has visible skin, approaches, eyeing me warily. I’ve never wished that I could order a hard, stiff drink more than I do right now.And I might never be able to...I settle for a water and wait a few short seconds for her to set the glass in front of me.
It’s so strange, because as I watch her walk away, all I can think is I’m never going to be as old as she is right now. And man is that a depressing thought.
I take a small sip of the cold liquid, fighting against the sudden surge in my throat that threatens to bring it right back up.
I take a deep breath and try to focus on anything else. On the sound of the music playing in the background. The bustle of conversation that floats all around me. On trying to pretend I’m not totally falling apart on the inside.
Thirty minutes pass and I’ve barely moved. I’m still staring at the water in front of me like it’s some magical object that’s going to spring to life and make all my problems disappear.
I’ve run it all over in my head. My childhood. My mom. Everything that’s happened. How unfair it all seems. Self-pity doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel right now. It goes way beyond that.
“You okay?” A smooth voice fills my ears, startling me from my thoughts. I look up, momentarily stunned by a pair of big blue eyes.
“Huh?” I stutter out, realizing he must be speaking to me.
“I was just asking if you were okay.” A long stretch of silence passes between us, and even though I tell myself to look away, I can’t. I can’t turn away from those eyes. Eyes the color of ocean waves. Eyes I could spend my entire life getting lost in if I had any life left.
“Uh huh.” I nod slowly, not sure what else to say. WhatshouldI say?Actually I’m not. I just found out I have cancer and am likely going to die, but thanks for asking?
He studies me for a long moment and for a second I think he might say more, but instead he nods and turns his attention to the bartender.
While his focus is elsewhere, I take the opportunity to study the rest of his face. I’m immediately taken aback by how good looking he is. Short, light brown hair, firm jaw covered with the slightest amount of scruff, perfect nose, and one dimple. A deep imprint on his left cheek that peeks out when he smiles at the woman standing on the other side of the bar. Oh god, that smile. I feel a flutter run through my chest. And did I mention his eyes?
I open my mouth, as if my mind could possibly form words right now, as if I could possibly think of a single thing to say to him, but I quickly snap it shut when he speaks to the bartender, ordering a round of beers.
I study his profile, taking in the curve of his face and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows before allowing my eyes to sweep lower.
I’d guess he’s in his early to mid-twenties, dressed in a dark v-neck shirt that stretches over his broad shoulders with jeans that hang perfectly on his narrow hips. He’s fit but not overly muscular. And one arm has a full sleeve of tattoos while the other appears completely bare.
If drooling was something people actually did, other than in their sleep, I’d definitely be drooling right now.
