Through Sickness and in Health

By Tanielle Dlamini

 

        The sun hit her face in a way that I hadn’t seen in so long. The way she smiles at me makes my heart skip a beat and then some. I don’t even remember what we were talking about, only the soft caress of her hands in mine. 

        “Are you even listening to me?” she asks. The answer is no, but I’ve been married long enough to know to say no.

        “Yes, of course. Yvette was causing trouble at work again,” I say with full assurance. I’m not sure if that’s even close to correct, but a man could hope.

        “No–” Damn it. “–Yvette’s son wants to be a lawyer, just like Jillian. I swear, she makes these things up to try to one-up me.”

        “Well, it’s because you’re such a great person and mother that everyone is envious.” I press a small kiss on her lips. The light touch is so foreign that it leaves my head spinning. The need for more burst through my skin. I lean in once more–

        “Uh uh. Don’t think kisses will fix this.” My wife’s hand stops my face in its tracks.

        “They’ve fixed things before,” I try. 

        “Not this time.” Her thumbs run across my cheeks. I lean into her touch. It’s the only thing I can do—want to do.

        “I’ve missed you,” I whisper. A tear trails down my face. “So so much.” The sun beats down on my back. The blanket beneath us sends feather-light touches through our veins. I can feel the wind blowing in my hair. 

        I can see my wife.

        “Have you tried the sandwiches?” She opens the picnic basket. “I made them just how you like them—with the avocados and all.” She pulls out two plastic-wrapped sandwiches, a bowl of fruit, and some drinks. 

        “You could never have a picnic without apple juice.” I smile, cracking the seal of two small bottles of apple juice. “That was your rule.”

        “That was for the kids. You know it was their favorite.”

        “They miss you too—Jillian and Henry. Everyday.” 

        She looks at me. The color drains from her eyes. One blink is all that she gives me.

        “You need to try the brownies,” she says. Her voice wavers slightly. “They’re mixed with red velvet mix. My goodness, I’ve been learning so many new recipes.”

        I take a bite of one. The taste falls flat on my tongue. I swallow nothing, as if the brownie was no more than a figment of my imagination. “They’re good. You always were a good baker.”

        She smiles. A breath of relief leaves her lungs. “Good. Good. I always worry that my skills are leaving me.”

        We eat in a comfortable silence. She stares at me, worry lacing her gaze. I, for lack of better words, am just happy to be there. With her. Again. 

        A dove flies through the sky. 

        “We should talk about it.”

        “Look at the dove,” she says, pointing to the white bird. “I haven’t seen them since our wedding day. Goodness, do you remember that? I remember it like it was yesterday. We danced so hard I thought my feet would fall off.” She never once makes eye contact with me. Just staring at the dove as it soars.

        “It was the best day of my life—aside from meeting you. I cried so hard I could hardly say my vows.” I laughed, looking at her. “I meant every word I said that day.” She finally looks at me again. Her skin is a little more pale than last time. “Through sickness and in health. I meant it.”

        “Stop it. Just stop it.” She looks away from me. Her head turns to the sky again.

        More doves fly through the sky. They pair off as they go. One lone dove lands on a branch.

        “Honey, it’s been a year,” I say. This time I grab her hand. It’s cold. She jerks it away.

        “I know. I know. I know. I just–” She sighs. Her head drops to her hands and wails fill the space. I rub her shaking shoulders. “I didn’t want it to happen this way—this soon.”

        Tears that I’d been fighting back fall from my eyes. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I’m sorry for bringing it up. Umm, let’s eat some of the fruit. You don’t want to attract flies.”

        She gives me a small nod. We pick at the fruit bowl in silence. They taste like nothing to me, but she feels like everything. My heart aches, ever-so-slightly beating out of my chest. Just for her. 

        Her head drops.

        “They don’t taste like anything.”

        “What are you talking about? They’re delicious. Y’know mangoes are great this time of year-”

        “Stop it. Don-Don’t do that.” She sniffles. “It’s my fault I-I’ve been beating around the bush about this whole thing.” Her lips quirk up, just a little bit. “I’ve missed you too. Every day, I wish you were here with me. But you’re not, and you can’t be because that’s selfish.”

        I hold her body to me. “It’s not selfish–”

        “Yes, it is.” She pushes away from me. “Every day, I wish you were dead. Every day, I hope and I wish that something will bring us back together, but nothing can.”

        “Yes, something can.”

        “No, you’ll die,” she cries. “You’ll die. You’ll leave our kids alone. They need a parent—someone. They need you. Just a little longer.”

       “But I need you.” I grab her hand and pull her to me. “I haven’t been the same without you.”

       “No, you don’t.” She grabs my face. I hold her wrist. “You don’t need me. You’re doing great on your own. You don’t need me, and I don’t need you. We need to learn how to live alone.”

       “I don’t want to.” She wipes away a stray tear. “I miss you.”

        “Let me go.” I let go of her wrist.

         More doves fly by. The lone dove stays on its branch. 

        “Cancer beat us,” I say, staring at the doves. 

        “Cancer beat me, but it will never beat us. Through sickness and in health, remember?” The dove on the branch chirps.

        “I have to go.” She stands up and walks away. The dove follows her. Another one lands on my shoulder. She looks back. “I love you.”

        “I love you, too.”

 

        I wake up in the cold comfort of my bed. Alone. Without her. Again.

        I stare across the room at the photo of her and her radiant smile. The urn that sits next to it.

        I roll over, hoping for a dream of her to take me once more.