Holly lives on the Texas Coast with her husband, teenage son, and three giant dogs. Her adult daughter just moved out, so she must have had her when she was ten. When she isn’t writing, Holly works full time as a corporate photographer.
When the Swell Breaks
This wasn’t how I planned to spend my thirty-ninth birthday, but here I am.
I’ve lived a good life, I think. I never finished getting my degree, but I have a job I love.
Loved.
My home isn’t a mansion, but it’s comfortable and enough. Two children, one of each, boy and girl. Check and check. Loving husband, check.
He’s standing in the hospital corridor now, talking with two of the doctors while I’m supposed to be sleeping. His eyes swing towards the room, and through the hatched lines on the window I can see his face. The last few months have aged him, taken him to that place you can never return from. He doesn’t look surprised that I am awake. I know it’s time. We’ve known for a few weeks now, that this is the best option, and I’ve already said goodbye to the kids.
At first I was selfish, and heartbroken that they might not remember me. They’re only two and three years old. But after I had more time to think about it, I hope they don’t remember me. Not like this. This sterile hospital room with beeping machines and harsh lights, drowning everyone who enters in its sea of hopelessness. Away from all of this, and maybe years from now, they’ll be ok.
But William, sweet William. He’ll remember every bit of it, I know him like the back of my hand. He was such a joyful man, and I’ve taken that from him. Me, and this damn tumor that they said would keep growing, taking over my brain like a parasite until I wouldn’t know who I was anymore. Machines could keep me alive for a little while, but I don’t want that for William, or for the kids. They need to be able to move on, and one day they will.
Not today.
William comes into the room with a doctor close behind him. The one who has never done this before.
“What’s it going to be then, eh?” I try to smile but the weight of it all pushes the edges of my lips downward. My voice shakes. “Miracle cure or sleep potion?” I know there is no cure.
Ignoring the question, William lowers the bed rail and climbs in next to me, holding me in his arms. We stare at each other and the swell breaks, pushing tears down both of our faces. He places his hands on either side of my face and kisses me softly. I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with him forever.
I turn to the doctor and nod.