Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I can draw,” he says when I open it to the first page.
It’s a cat in a window. And it’s incredibly detailed. “Price, this is …” I flip through more pages, not stopping on the ones with writing. They’re too personal and not for my eyes. “How did you not know you could draw?” I chuckle, admiring his detailed drawings.
“I never took the time to listen.”
“To listen to what?” I glance over at him.
A victorious smile graces his face. “Ah … the student has become the teacher.”
I surrender with a slight nod and a knowing grin.
“I’ve never taken the time to listen to my body. I don’t mean just acknowledging the pain. Imagine all the gifts people have but don’t take the time to listen. I never sat with a pencil in my hand and no purpose—I never doodled. It’s tragic.”
Again, I thumb through the drawings. “Is this your wife?” It’s a woman with an open book in her hands, but she’s looking up from it with her lower lip trapped between her teeth.
Price smiles. It’s the kind of expression one has when they think of someone they love—a beautiful smile.
“Yes.” He laughs. “After she hit me with her car, she wouldn’t leave my side at the hospital. Whenever I glanced at her, she looked at me with a cringe. I don’t think she read a single page of that book. And I knew …” He breathes a content sigh. “I knew she would leave a mark on me that had nothing to do with the accident. It’s as if she knew the accident was meant to be, but she didn’t want to suggest it while I still had broken bones.”
I love this story, except for the part where he’s here with me and not with her.
“Does Amelia think you’re dead? Does your daughter?”
His smile fades. “No. I left her with a note.” He rubs his hand over his face. “A fucking note. I said, ‘I can’t do it. Please forgive me.’ Then, I went to New York to stay with a trusted friend. I told him death was knocking at my door and that I needed a safe place to escape. For two months, he gave me space. He didn’t question the foods I ate, the pain I endured, or my need to be alone. I told him I’d let him know if the time came to call Amelia, if I felt I was losing the fight. But I didn’t get weaker; I got stronger. And I knew seeing you would reset my life because you are peace and gratitude. You are serenity. You embody the essence of what it means to live without the fear of …”
“Of what?” I whisper.
He narrows his eyes, gaze cast downward. “Death.”
My heart skips. This man sees something greater than I’ve ever seen in myself.
“Scottie, do you remember on our first date, we discussed the mayor's passing? He was only thirty-seven. I said it was scary to think of life ending so soon. And you said you didn’t fear death because—”
“Nothing is easier than not existing,” I whisper with a smile.
Price smiles, too. “Yes. What you fear, you draw near. I stopped fearing death, and I focused on life. The tiny details. Every single thing I put into my body. Every emotion. Every twinge of pain. Every memory that brought me joy. I dove headfirst into gratitude and focused on living instead of dying.”
Words fail me. I’m honored and heartbroken. I’m hopeful but scared. He’s living my life better than I am. “Price, I don’t know what to say, but I can’t shake the uneasy feeling I have about you being here and your wife and daughter living with uncertainty about your whereabouts or if they’ll ever see you again. Doesn’t that bother you?”
He slowly nods, eyes narrowed. “This is such a selfish journey. I believe it when people say you can’t take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself. Amelia loved me too much to see that her fear was killing me along with the cancer. She couldn’t bear the thought of me not doing the chemo. She couldn’t give me space, mental or emotional.
“Most days, I feel normal. Scottie, I’m living. I know it. I’m winning. So I don’t let my mind linger on how they’re feeling. Every time it tries to go there, I redirect my thoughts to all the times we were happy before my diagnosis. I pretend I’m on a long business trip, and they’re missing me but excited for the day when I return.”
I understand him, but I also know what it’s like to love him. I know what it’s like to miss him. “You’re amazing.” I pause to let that sink in. He needs to understand that he is so amazing and brave. I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my life. Yet, he’s still human. And as much as he wants to keep his feelings at bay, I know he can’t. Not entirely. “I’m sure it’s hard to fight the pain of missing them. Because you must miss them. Right?”