Only in Dreams(77)

I worry I’ll forget what Henry looks like. I worry I’ll forget his smell, or his laugh. I worry there’s nothing after this life, and I won’t get to see him again. I worry I will get cancer and die a painful and terrible death alone—like Henry. I worry my friends will tire of me and send me back to New York.

Emmie can tell this is a new state of broken for me, and though she tries every day, I fear I am now becoming a burden on her. I then worry that Henry felt like he was a burden to me.

“Paige?” I hear Christian’s voice and a knock on the tiny green door. I don’t answer. He enters anyway. He’s used to me not answering. “Are you hungry?”

I still don’t answer. I simply stare past him. This never seems to bother him. He sets the tray he is carrying down on the small trunk at the foot of the bed and makes his way over to me, picking up a pillow I’ve discarded to the floor. He places it behind me and gently nudges me into a sitting positing, propping the pillow up behind me.

“Emmie made oatmeal. It’s got raisins and nuts, and I brought up a little jar of pure maple syrup for you in case you wanted it a little sweeter,” he says. I watch him as he retrieves the tray. I don’t understand why he is doing this; I want him to stop.

“I’m not hungry,” I say at last.

“Well, you need to eat something,” he insists, pulling up a wooden chair next to me and placing the tray on his lap.

“I said I’m not hungry.” My voice is dripping with venom.

“Then I’ll sit here until you are,” he informs me.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” I ask, glaring at him.

“Because I care about you; we all do,” he explains.

I huff. Deep inside me, I want the fight. I want to unleash all my hurt, anger, and fury onto him, but I simply don’t have the strength to expel that much energy. Relenting, I scoop the bowl off the tray and shove a spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth.

“There you go,” he commends me.

I study him as he watches me just as intensely. I’ve been so cruel to him since I came down to stay with Emmie. I can’t figure out why he puts up with it. “Can I ask you a question?” I ask after swallowing.

“Anything,” he answers with a half smile.

“I got married to someone else,” I begin. “Why didn’t you move on, start dating someone else?”

Christian thinks about my question for a long time. Finally, he furrows his brow and answers me, “The same reason I didn’t date anyone the last time we were apart. Nobody was you.”

I shake my head, shoving another bite of oatmeal into my mouth. “Are you trying to tell me you would have stayed single forever if Henry hadn’t been sick?”

“I don’t know—maybe. It’s hard to say. Perhaps, eventually, I would have found someone else who I connected with in the same way, but I just don’t think that happens very often ...” He pauses, leaning forward. “For some people, it doesn’t even happen once.”

His dark eyes grab my attention, and I force myself to look away. I don’t want to look at him. I just want to miss Henry. Why won’t he leave?

“Does it make you uneasy when I say things like that?” he asks.

My head snaps back as I stare at him through squinted eyes. “No! Why would that bother me?”

“I don’t know. It seemed to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” I insist.

“Sorry, my mistake.” I don’t like the way he won’t argue with me. Nobody will argue with me. It’s like they all think I will lose all touch with reality if they push back.

“Do you come up here every day because you think eventually I’ll give us a second chance?” I ask pointedly. I can see the question annoys him.

“I come up here every day because I care about you, and I don’t want you to be alone with your pain.”

“So you have no hopes of me ever loving you again?” I demand.

Christian shakes his head. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“Answer me, damn it!” I shout.

“Pain makes us angry sometimes, and I’ll be here for as long as you need someone to take it out on.”

“Whatever,” I huff.

Christian reaches out and grabs my hand. He pulls me closer, and I am suddenly uncomfortable. “Paige, I’ll be here for you, but you’ll never get me to stop loving you, so stop trying.”

I feel my chest tighten, and my eyes fill up with tears. I wildly yank my wrists away. An awkward silence settles over the room. I wait for him to say something, to leave, to do anything, but he doesn’t. He just sits in that damn chair and watches me.