The Strength to Choose

Sitting quietly allowing silence to gluttonously fill the spaces between them, she wiggles her toes under a thin but warm blanket.  She turns to look at his still thick, dark and curly hair smiling at how handsome he still is after all this life together.  He's sitting on her right, the side where she hears him the best; so thoughtful.  Now he hangs his head looking forlorn and... frightened? No, Devin has never been afraid in their life.  He's held her hand and marched through the fires of Hell to get them to such a wonderful place together; one she'd thought she would never have again.  She is grateful that he saved her. With a sigh, she turns back, to the window against which a tall white haired man leans.  He does not speak.  He does not look frightened.  He's simply there and she's happy to see him.  He has brought an extra beat to her heart and a warmth she had forgotten.

"I love you" Mia whispers to the room.  Most of her comments have been reduced to that; whispers; aggravating little wisps of air failing to convey her colorful passionate... vavoom.  That was what she was; what she had ~ VaVOOM.  She laughed a little too loudly, drank a little too much, enjoyed a good dirty joke, cared for many and cared not if they told her she was inappropriate.  She was dynamic and fun with an ability to listen to problems and somehow, with just a few words,  provide the strength and encouragement to move above it, around it... to survive it. She was supportive and loving.  Now, her voice, her vavoom and her life have been reduced to a whisper.  The two men smile privately, ignoring each other. 

Machines beep and hum as cords replace her once vibrant outfits.  A plain pale blue blanket  the only thing remotely close to a shock of color on the now frail woman.  The mechanical spaghetti seems to capture her like a web; demanding to be moved in order to touch her, which both men longed to do.  No one speaks.  There is no polite conversation  between the gentlemen but they were painfully aware of each other.  Mia drifts off to a busy sleep filled with twitches and scratching though she barely feels this thanks to the medication from one of the chirping menaces.

Devin stands, leaning over his Mia to smooth her hair.  He whispers softly to her of their years together, remembering for her the passionate nights of her hands on his skin and how she called his name in the night.  He recalls the trips they took and the laughter that swallowed countless days.  As if childishly telling a secret, he leans in even closer and reminds her of her promise to him; to be there.

Without a word, Mia opens her eyes to focus, smiling and bringing his hand to her mouth.  She gently kisses it.  He traces her cheek and now dry, thin lips.  Her affection still raises the hair on his arms.  He blinks back tears and says "Please choose me"  Without a glance toward the window, he wipes his eyes, hangs his head and tucks his hands into his pockets.  He aches to feel her arm through his as he turns and walks out into the hall.  There is a pang of guilt salted with anger at their choice to ignore the headaches- their increasing frequency and intensity until now.  He regrets listening to her reassurances and dismissals of getting them checked out ~ until too late.  But maybe he could have just a little more time.

The man at the window watches the traffic glide by; undaunted, uncaring, ignorant to the burning in his chest as he waits; for his turn. Marcus told himself he wouldn't grovel or beg.  It was unbecoming of a gentleman. But to see her and want only to hold her close, care for her and make the pain that has robbed him of his only love's vavoom; making it stop; for good.  He understood Devin's selfishness.  He was young (-er) and afraid.  There was a time when Marcus was the same way.  But no more.  No, with age came wisdom and he ultimately knows what is best for Mia.  He steps to her left and takes his turn to persuade.  He whispers her name for the first time in more than two decades.

She hears him and welcomes the warm tingling fire surging under her skin.  It is startling and wonderful.  Her smile is as deep as the flush rushing to her cheeks.

"Oh Marcus.  You came."

"Of course I did."

"You silly old fart.  Why did you do that?" she scolds but huffs a giggle or so he thinks; painfully unsure.

"Because Mia.  It's time to choose."

"Choose? I don't want to choose." she pouts and the respirator puffs in accordance.

"Mia." his voice drawls out softly as the most gentle reproach.  She looks away hoping Devin is there to save her and take her side.  "It isn't fair Mia; to anyone."

"Me. What's fair to me?"  this causes the little lights on her mechanical friends to skip and jump; summoning a nurse to peek in.

"Miss Mia?" the voice is concerned.

The small woman waves and puts her thumb up.  "All good Carrie.  Sorry. I must have gotten tangled in my myself."

The nurse smiles and checks her patient's vitals, moving wires and straightening things.  She brushes passed the white haired man saying nothing.  He has backed up so she can take care of his love.  He returns to her side when the machines settle down and the nurse has drifted out.

"Fair?" he starts again.  "Mia.  Fair is painless."

This sparks the first tear.  It is hot and stings her cheek.  She angrily wipes it away and glares at him.  Another follows and another.  Her smile collapses as she becomes obsessed with ridding her face of the wet salty assailants.  "No. No. Stop." she commands but she is losing the battle.  Marcus takes her hands and kisses away her villains.  Then, he bends, allowing his warriors to meet hers.  He wraps her in his arms and holds her as tightly as the wires, the blankets and the cancer will allow.  She relaxes in his embrace.  His heart is breaking; again.  But not as badly as the first time he left her.  He pulls away and looks into her gentle green eyes, clouded with medication and pain. His breath is ragged and trips over all the things he wants to say to her.  It is not time yet.  She has to choose.  And so with all the strength he has left, he stands and blows her a kiss.  

"My heart is yours Mia.  I will love you  this much regardless of the choice you make. " And he raises her fragile, cool fingers to his heart covering it with his own. 

Her mouth falls open and there are new tears; unstoppable and steady. "Marcus." she pleads and clutches his hand; feeling the beat of his heart.  Her eyes close and she greedily absorbs the rhythm in his chest.  "Please.  I'm so afraid."  Her breath sounds like a brittle Autumn wind; crackly and dry. Her bones are heavy and hold her prisoner.  She wants to strike him; hold him.  She knows now.  The choice is clear.  Marcus puts her hand down and walks away.  Through the door.  He uses the wall to support himself.  His knees are threatening to give out.  His chest is heaving with sobs and he fights the urge to scream.

Across from him stands Devin.  He is cradling his head in his hands; shoulders shaking as he cries.

Marcus begins to walk slowly down the hall. 

There is commotion and a screaming ~ a steady whine.  Marcus does not look up.  He does not stop.  

Devin is up and bolts for the door crying Mia's name.  Nurses and doctors hustle in behind him.  The machines are warning them; no telling them, it's over.  She has made her choice.  Mia's second husband is led to a chair where the pain crushes him. He is lost.  He has lost.  Holding her hand, he kisses and begs but she cannot hear him; anymore.

"Marcus?"

The ghost stops in the hall.  He turns to see the most beautiful woman he ever loved standing for the first time in months.  She holds the wall, unable to understand that she can walk now.  Her hand reaches for him. 

"It doesn't hurt." she whispers glancing cautiously around as if it is said too loudly all will rush back as a horrendous punishment.

"No. It will never hurt again."  he smiles and wiggles his fingers, beckoning for her to join him.

Mia hesitates and then, like a child, discovers the strength to move.  Her soul warms.  She smiles as he hugs her for the first time since his death.  Turning to look back, she sees Devin standing in the doorway looking at her; hurt and confused.

"Mia?" his voice is wounded.  "I love you. Will you be all right now? Better?"

"I will." she cries still walking with Marcus toward a warmer, brighter haven.

"You were strong Darling.  I miss you." and his voice breaks as does his heart.

But she is gone; having made the only choice she could.


Well, we all need a good cry now and then.  I cried when I wrote this, edited, proofed and finally let it go.  Whew.  I guess my heart needed a sweeping out.  I have extra tissues if you need them.  Thanks for keeping me company.  I like seeing you here.