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“I just need to get my head on straight.” I looked at the floor, knowing I’d see a look of pity in Sergio’s eyes that would make me lose the last bit of control I had over my emotions.
“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
“You’re the only one I’ve told. I’ve been pretending it’s not real,” I whispered.
“How long? How is he feeling? Shit, how are you?”
“Few months, maybe.” I shrugged. “He’s in a lot of pain. He gets terrible headaches and refuses to take anything but ibuprofen.”
“This really sucks.”
“Yeah. I haven’t really processed it.” I shifted on my feet for a minute before asking, “Where are you staying?”
“Hadn’t thought that far ahead. Len mentioned the accident, and I hadn’t heard from you, so I figured I’d come check on you in person. I’ll probably crash at Connor’s.”
“Cool… Cool. So, Wyatt will hold you to the outside thing. I don’t let him outside without an adult, and shit has been crazy here. Getting Eli outside is a whole thing…” I waved a hand around. “Anyway, I apologize in advance for his refusal to come back in.”
“I never wanted to go inside when I was a kid, either. I’m sure we’ll have a good time.”
It was another week before we told everyone else about Eli’s diagnosis. Mish cried with me for an hour before joining Elle to create a schedule to make sure Eli, Wyatt, and I had as much quality time together as possible. Someone brought us groceries, came to clean the house, and made us meals. We hired a nurse for Eli.
Not only did Sergio stay close, but Tom and Matteo made frequent visits as well. I limited my meltdowns to the shower, where no one could see. But things declined much faster than I ever could have imagined. Every day Eli looked worse. And every day he was in more pain and still refused medications.
Thirty-One
October
“Do you remember the birdie?” Eli asked me as I rearranged his pillows. He was unusually chatty that day, and I was so grateful to have a sliver of my best friend back.
“The what?”
“Your art project.”
“My art project? No. I don’t remember this at all. Why?”
“It’s one of the few things I remember from senior year. Grab my wallet.”
“Now? I thought we were talking about a bird?”
“We are. I need my wallet.” He pointed across the room to where his wallet sat on top of his dresser.
I crawled out of the bed and grabbed the wallet. I turned back to the bed and Eli was propping himself up higher on the pillows. He looked like shit. He’d lost so much weight. There were dark circles around his eyes and his skin had a yellowish hue. His body was failing so quickly. Emotions clogged my throat, but I refused to let them ruin this moment.
“Hey, it’s a happy story. C’mon back into bed.”
I crawled into the bed and curled into his arms. They felt foreign. I lost him a little more every day, and soon he’d be gone forever. Silent tears escaped my eyes. “Hey, Katie. Please don’t cry.” He used the sheet to wipe the tears from my cheeks.
I took a deep breath to steady myself. “Just tell me about this art project.”
He opened his wallet and pulled out a silver strip about the length of a dollar bill but was less than a finger wide and held it up.
“What is it?” I asked, confused.
“Your art project.”
I studied the flimsy paper. “I thought you said it was a bird.” I tried to take the strip from his hand.
He laughed quietly. “I didn’t say it was a bird. You did. Actually, you were quite insistent that it was a ‘birdie.’ Here.” He peeled back the corner of the strip to about the halfway point, stuck my pointer finger inside and sealed it back up again.
