Forbidden Love(47)

“He is alive, Miss Torres.” The doctor passed me a tissue and took a seat, indicating for me to do the same thing. “Please sit. I need to give you some details.”



“Oh, thank God!” I plopped down onto the cracked leather sofa and tried to dry my face with the tiny piece of white material. “How bad is it?” I knew even before the question left my mouth, he wasn’t going to tell me anything I didn’t already know in my heart. I was losing him. Fast.



“Well, as you already know Dylan has brain cancer. He’s not been receiving any treatments for quite some time now and vastly outlived any of our initial expectations.” I scanned the doctor’s nametag which sat above his pocket.



Dr. Polouski.



Nodding, I pulled another tissue from its cardboard box and blew my nose.



“Now, Dylan had done tremendously well until recently; however, he’s taken a rather bad turn. This morning, after he was admitted, he had a particularly nasty seizure.” He put the clipboard he had been holding down on the coffee table between us. “Dylan’s health is deteriorating quickly. The seizures indicate his brain is not coping any longer. His organs are weakening and he’s not able to function normally at this point.”



I pulled in a shaky breath. “Seizures? Are you sure?”



“I’m afraid so, Miss Torres.” The doctor seemed to steel himself before opening his mouth. “He’s growing weaker, and the next few weeks will be hard on his body and mind.”



Staring blankly, unable to grasp what he’d just told me, I made no sound.



Dr. Polouski reached out and laid his hand over mine. “His body is giving up. He doesn’t have longer than a few weeks left, Miss Torres. I’m terribly sorry. You should start making arrangements for him now. When the time comes, you won’t be in the right frame of mind.” The doctor looked at my swollen face. “Are you aware of Dylan’s last wishes? Do you know if he has a last will and testament?” His eyes were kind but detached.



One sentence and my heart shattered, splintering shards though my chest. “I need to see him.” I jumped up out of my chair. The only thing I could focus on was getting to him.



“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take you to him now.” The doctor stood and walked to the door. Before opening it, he stopped and turned to me. “Please understand it might look scary. There are a lot of tubes and wires attached to him right now. He looks as unwell as he is. It can be quite confronting for loved ones to see.”



“I understand. Please, I just need to see him,” I begged, not realizing just how terrifying it would be to see him like that.



A few turns in the long corridors and we came to a light blue curtain that looked identical to the rest of them. “If you need anything, the nurses’ station is just over there.” The doctor pointed to a large desk buzzing with people coming and going.



I nodded and moved forward, my feet feeling like they weighed a ton. I lifted my equally heavy hand and pulled the curtain back enough to step inside.



No matter how much you think you are ready, nothing truly prepares you to see somebody you love lying in a hospital bed, looking as pale as a ghost. With tubes, wires and an assortment of machines hooked up to his frail body, I swallowed back my instinct to wail and throw myself at him. “Dyl?” I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. The tears I’d managed to stop, spilled over and ran down my cheeks again.



“Sugar.” He attempted a smile but stopped short. “Don’t cry, sugar.” His voice was raspy and sounded shallow. “Come.” He was out of breath with just a few words. I rushed to his side, being mindful of the medical equipment.



“Oh, God, Dylan.” I reached out to touch him only to stop and hover over the top of him unsure where I could touch him or if I could at all. “I- I don’t know where I can—” I moved my hands back and he reached one of his own out slightly to grasp me. “I love you,” I told him through my sobs. “I was so scared. I love you so much, Dylan.”



“It’s okay, sugar.” His eyelids closed and he took a stuttered breath. “I’m here.” He loosened his grip on my hand slightly and panic hit me like a semi-truck all over again. I hit the little red call button and a nurse rushed in a second later.



“He— I—” My words were lost in an abyss of fear, grief and terror.



“He’s okay, dear,” the nurse assured me, scanning the monitors around us. “He’ll be very drowsy right now.” She came closer and patted me on the shoulder kindly. “You’ll find he’ll fall asleep often. His body is trying to recover a little.”