December 17, 2004
Brooke
I wake up in the middle of the night and Marco is gone. I panic. I sit up in bed. The possibilities crowd into my mind. He could be run over by truck or out in the dark. I try to calm myself down, nothings bad is happening to Marco, nothings bad... - I hear a sound, someone is crying. I think it’s Jenny, maybe Marco when to see what’s wrong with Jenny, so I get up and go into Jenny’s room, but Jenny is asleep, curled around Mr Teddy, her blanked thrown off the bed. I follow the sound down the hall and there, sitting on the living room floor, there is Marco, with his head on his hand. I feel relieve, at least he doesn’t tried to kill himself again.
I kneel besides him. “What’s wrong, darling?” I ask him.
Marco raises his face and I can see the shine of tears on his cheeks in the street light that comes in the windows. “The medication is useless,” he says.
I put my arms around him. “No it’s not darling,” I say softly.
Marco shakes his head. “It’s not working Brooke, you know it’s not.” he says. We sit on the floor silence. It’s the third break down this month. Everything was perfect for us until Marco got lung cancer. Finally Marco says, “I’m dying Brooke.” I am about to argue when I realize that Jenny is standing near the living room couch. She’s wearing a blue polka dot nightgown and yellow duck slippers. Jenny squints and yawns in the harsh light of the kitchen. “Mmmmmorning,” Jenny says.
“It’s not really morning, kiddo,” I tell her. I get up and pick Jenny up. She’s so heavy now. I carry her down to the hall and throw her onto the bed and she screams with laughter. The clocks on her bedside table says 3:17 a.m. “See?” I show her. “You have to go back to sleep Jenny.” After sometime singing her favourite lullaby Jenny finally fall back to sleep and I walk back to the living room. Marco has managed to calm his self down and sit on the couch. I sit down beside him. It’s unpleasantly cold in here.
“Brooke.”
“Mmm?”
“When I’m gone-“Marco stops, look away, take a deep breath and begins again. “I’ve prepared everything, I mean I’ve been getting everything organized, all the documents, you know, my will, and letters to people, and stuff for Jenny, it’s all in my desk.” I can’t say anything. Marco looks at me. I open my mouth to say something but then my heart is suffering in pain, hearing the man I love talking about his dead.
I kneel besides him. “What’s wrong, darling?” I ask him.
Marco raises his face and I can see the shine of tears on his cheeks in the street light that comes in the windows. “The medication is useless,” he says.
I put my arms around him. “No it’s not darling,” I say softly.
Marco shakes his head. “It’s not working Brooke, you know it’s not.” he says. We sit on the floor silence. It’s the third break down this month. Everything was perfect for us until Marco got lung cancer. Finally Marco says, “I’m dying Brooke.” I am about to argue when I realize that Jenny is standing near the living room couch. She’s wearing a blue polka dot nightgown and yellow duck slippers. Jenny squints and yawns in the harsh light of the kitchen. “Mmmmmorning,” Jenny says.
“It’s not really morning, kiddo,” I tell her. I get up and pick Jenny up. She’s so heavy now. I carry her down to the hall and throw her onto the bed and she screams with laughter. The clocks on her bedside table says 3:17 a.m. “See?” I show her. “You have to go back to sleep Jenny.” After sometime singing her favourite lullaby Jenny finally fall back to sleep and I walk back to the living room. Marco has managed to calm his self down and sit on the couch. I sit down beside him. It’s unpleasantly cold in here.
“Brooke.”
“Mmm?”
“When I’m gone-“Marco stops, look away, take a deep breath and begins again. “I’ve prepared everything, I mean I’ve been getting everything organized, all the documents, you know, my will, and letters to people, and stuff for Jenny, it’s all in my desk.” I can’t say anything. Marco looks at me. I open my mouth to say something but then my heart is suffering in pain, hearing the man I love talking about his dead.
0 comments:
Post a Comment