Wish You Were Here

  “Will you go with me tomorrow to get the letter before you go back to San Diego?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can I tell you something, Seth?”

  “Anything.”

  “I’ve been all over the place with my life. I’ve had so many jobs and weird boyfriends. My twenties have been a total joke.”

  He turned on his side and pulled me into his arms. “So what?”

  “Why are you being so good to me?”

  “Because I can tell you’re a good person. I’ve had my share of one-night stands and bad decisions. I just try not to dwell on them.”

  “I’ve just been lost, you know? Killing time with Helen. I admire her for taking a leap. I could never do that.”

  Seth tensed. “Did you really fall for that guy, in that way?”

  “Does it really matter? He’s going to die soon. I usually find a way to sabotage things or seek out the most unavailable people. I did it with Adam without even knowing.”

  “I can see why he’d be hung up on you, even with a faulty memory. You’re kind of impossible to forget. Before I even met you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  I smiled. There was enough light coming from under the door to see him smile back. Rolling onto my side, I let him spoon me. I wanted to feel like I had done something right, like I deserved Seth spooning me, like I deserved to be Adam’s muse.

  But I was still conflicted. Would I always be?

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY, after brunch, Seth and I headed to Stacy’s. I knocked on the door. When she opened it, Foxy Cleopatra was at her feet. I bent to pet her. “Hi, Foxy.”

  When I looked up, I noticed Stacy was staring at Seth—not ogling him, just trying to figure out who the hell he was.

  “Stacy, this is my friend Seth.” They shook hands.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  We followed Stacy and sat at a round table. Foxy wouldn’t leave me alone. Stacy handed me the letter. Seth stayed quiet.

  “I haven’t read it,” she said. “But if you want to read it here, maybe I can answer some of your questions. I think he wrote it right after that night.”

  I could feel Seth shift beside me.

  “Okay.” I opened the letter and read it to myself.

  Charlotte. I remembered your name right after you left so I wrote it down. I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want to scare you away even more. I have a brain tumor. Like, the really bad kind. That’s why I seemed forgetful. My days are numbered, lady. I wasn’t joking. I wish I wouldn’t have let you go just now. Now I don’t know how to find you. Everything before you and I were in that bar is a blur, but everything after is crystal clear. Why is that? Is it because I was so enamored of you that you marked my soul and now I can’t get you out of my mind? I hope you come back, but if you don’t, I hope this letter finds you. Last night was far and away the best night of my life. I’ve never felt so connected to anyone before. It was the first time I’ve ever really been scared to die. I think because it’s the first time I’ve ever really wanted to live. I felt like we had known each other forever. I felt something I didn’t think I would feel in this life: love. Like that crazy, passionate shit everyone talks about. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I know it seems crazy but when you made up that story, at first I believed it and I was confused because it seemed so real, like a memory. And then I realized it wasn’t true. I wasn’t mad at you for lying, I was sad that I hadn’t met you sooner. I was sad that it wasn’t real and that I didn’t have enough time on this earth to love you well. You lit up my night . . . my fucking life, Charlotte. I don’t remember wanting to touch anyone so badly. I would have stayed in this loft with you until the very end, if you would have agreed. I wish I would have asked you.

  I’m writing because I wanted you to know that when people talk about “the one,” you were my “one.” Is that crazy? I know I’m not that for you because you have your whole life ahead of you and we only spent one night together, but I still had to tell you. Please find a nice guy who doesn’t give you crap about your toes. They’re the most adorable little sausages I’ve ever seen.

  If you’re reading this, then I guess I’ll see you on the other side. Love, Adam.

  He thought he would be dead before I read this.

  It’s fair to say that by the time I finished reading the letter, I was a blubbering fool. I was hysterical and hyperventilating. It brought Adam back to me, his spontaneity and humor and the way I, too, felt like I had known him my whole life. Seth was rocking me, making soothing sounds and rubbing my arms up and down. Tears were spilling onto the letter, soaking the words.

  I crumpled into a ball in Seth’s arms, and he held me as I cried myself to exhaustion.

  “I need to go home,” I said.

  “Aren’t you going to see him?” Stacy seemed irritated.

  “Yes, but I can’t today.”

  “He doesn’t—”

  “I know, he doesn’t have much time left. I will see him tomorrow if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Stacy was still shaking her head when Seth and I left the apartment. He carried me effortlessly up the stairs to my place and laid me down in my bed.

  Some time later, I woke up to Seth setting a glass of water on my nightstand. When I opened my eyes and looked up at him, he sat on the edge of my bed and brushed my hair back from my face.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice low and gentle.

  “Hey.”

  “I gotta get going.”

  “I know.” I glanced behind him to the clock. It was ten p.m. I had slept for three hours after an hour-long sobbing fit. There was a big part of me that wanted to tell Seth that he should move on and forget about us. That he should focus on baseball and his career, instead of sitting here consoling me. But as I looked up into his sincere eyes, his solicitous smile, I saw understanding and a man who cared about me.

  “You need to see him, Charlotte.”

  I nodded.

  “If for nothing else, thank him for the mural, but I think there’s more to this than that.”

  “I know.” If I went to see Adam, Seth knew there was no way I could just thank him, walk away, and say, Have a nice death.

  “I’ll be on the road for nine days, and when I come back, this will all be a distant memory, right? You’ll see him, and then we can move on with our lives?”

  I wondered if it would be that easy. I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. Seth laughed and then bent and kissed the top of my head.

  “Yes, I think so,” I said, though I wasn’t sure at all.

  “I know we haven’t known each other that long but I’d like to continue dating you.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “So . . . I need to be sure you know the game plan before I leave.”

  Of course he does. A flash-forward of Seth coaching our little kid’s baseball team flitted through my consciousness. I should have felt good about that, but I was a mess of emotions. I sat up against my pillows. Even though the light from the hallway was illuminating the room enough for Seth and me to see each other’s faces, I clicked on the bedside lamp as well, just to make it that much more real.

  “Okay,” I began, my voice shaking. “Tomorrow you’re going to Cleveland and I’m going to see Adam in the hospital.”

  He nodded once, encouraging me to continue, so I did.

  “You’ll be gone for nine days, and when you come back, we’ll get together and talk about things between us.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Huh?” Where is this going?

  “In nine days, I’ll come back and we’ll pick up where we left off in that hotel room.”

  I was quiet for way too long. His expression dropped.

  “Okay,” I said finally.

  He leaned in, pecked me on the lips, and then stood up. I watched with no emotion as he walked out of my room. Just before he left the apartment, he called out, “Lock the door, Charlie.”

  He c
alled me Charlie. Am I going to break his heart?

  17. Why We Remember

  I walked through the sliding-glass doorway to Adam’s hospital room. I couldn’t see him right away because the privacy curtain was pulled around his bed, but I could detect movement behind the curtain. And then I heard his voice. He was talking to a female nurse.

  “Bald is sexy, right?” he said. I laughed to myself quietly as I waited for the nurse to open the curtain.

  “Yes, Adam, bald is sexy,” she said, sounding amused.

  “I mean, think about it. Bruce Willis, Vin Diesel . . . Natalie Portman . . . Adam Bramwell.”

  She laughed and then very abruptly pulled the curtain open, the metal hooks screeching along the curtain track, startling me. Suddenly, Adam and I were face-to-face. He was completely bald and had two distinct scars just above his forehead on the left side.

  He opened his eyes wide and grinned, but only one side of his mouth went up. I found it completely heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once.

  “Hi, Adam,” I said just above a whisper.

  “Come here, Charlotte.” I had been hanging back a few feet, cautious and apprehensive. The nurse, a young, blond woman, appraised me.

  “Hello,” I said to her as I walked toward Adam.

  “Hello,” she returned. “I’ll leave you two alone. Adam, your lunch will be here in a minute. Do you want me to help you, or . . .” She looked at me. I was looking at Adam.

  “I can handle it, Leah, but thank you.” He wouldn’t take his eyes off me. From what I could tell, he had lost a little use of his left side but he seemed spry and aware.

  I stood next to his bed, trying to hold it together until the nurse left the room, and then I started crying.

  “Don’t cry, please,” he said.

  “Thank you . . . for painting that mural and . . . for the letter.” Tears poured from my eyes.

  “Thank you for making my night so starry.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I was scared you’d run.”

  “It would have been the opposite.” I could barely speak.

  “I know that, too. I didn’t want you to stay just because I had cancer.” Adam’s eyes were sympathetic. “But here you are.” He smiled and then pointed to the scar on his head. “They operated and got some of the tumor out, so my brain works better, but my left side is pretty useless. I was left-handed. I can’t paint anymore.” He paused. “At least I got to make that one last mural for you before I went into surgery. I’m starting to have seizures more often, so that’s a bummer. Oh, and I drool a little now. How’s that for progress?”

  I laughed because he was smiling the whole time he talked, like nothing could ruin his day.

  “So making out is gonna be a little slobbery,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  My lips flattened.

  “I’m kidding, Charlotte.”

  I let out a breath. “Oh. Okay.”

  “Well, thanks for coming by, and you’re welcome for the mural. I figured if I didn’t make it through the surgery, you’d have something to remember me by.”

  “And the letter?”

  Adam’s warm, chocolatey eyes searched mine. “I meant all of it.”

  Out of nowhere, I felt the urge to kiss him, so I did. I leaned down, cupped his chin, and kissed him, gently and slowly. The left side of his mouth was a little slack, but it didn’t matter; he braced the back of my head and kissed me back.

  When I pulled away, he said, “Wow. It was true.”

  “What?”

  “That feeling was real. I didn’t make it up.”

  I closed my eyes. My chest was aching. Right at that moment, a member of the hospital cafeteria walked in with a tray. “It’s your favorite, Adam. Chicken fajitas!” the woman said.

  “Woohoo!” Adam was genuinely excited. It was charming. “This is the best day ever! Charlotte, sit down, I’ll share. It’ll be like a date.”

  This was why I had fallen for him. He was dying in a bed and he was still joyful, buoyant, and charming.

  I started laughing and crying at the same time. “Adam, where is your family? How come no one is here with you?”

  “My dad can’t be pulled away from his job, you know? And all this is too hard on my mom. It’s no big deal; I mean, I could live ten more years like this. They don’t need to be sitting around waiting for me to die.”

  He started pulling lids off the containers. I got up, walked over, and began to help him arrange his lunch so he could use his right hand. “Is that true? You could live ten more years?”

  He looked up at me, straight-faced. “What, you don’t believe in miracles anymore?”

  I swallowed hard and noticed that my hands were shaking and my voice wouldn’t work.

  “I’m kidding. Lighten up, Charlotte.” He put his hand over mine and looked right into my eyes. “Relax, okay? I’m probably gonna die soon.”

  I shook my head. There was a small container of broth. I took the lid off and held a spoonful to Adam’s mouth. He opened wide and swallowed the soup.

  “I did that for you,” he said, smiling. “I don’t need you to feed me, but I totally enjoyed it.” He held up his right hand. “I can still use this hand, and other body parts, too.” He waggled his eyebrows. What was I doing? I was stumbling all over the situation like a fool. I was about to tell him that I had a boyfriend, but I stopped myself. “And, also, the broth is for people who can’t have solid food.” He lifted the lid off the fajitas. “I got these babies.”

  I couldn’t imagine that Adam was dying of brain cancer. He was chipper and so coherent. “What exactly have they told you about . . .” I tensed up.

  “About what?” he said, looking concerned.

  “About . . . how long you have?”

  Half of Adam’s mouth went up.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “My beautiful Charlotte. Listen,” he implored, “I’m a ticking-fucking-time-bomb, okay? I could be happily enjoying my fajitas and then just”—he shut his eyes and made a croaking sound.

  “That’s terrible!”

  “I’m serious, but it’s true for all of us. I’m running out of fucks to give. You could have a stroke or an aneurysm or a freaking heart attack and drop dead right in front of me, lights out.”

  “And you wouldn’t give a fuck?”

  “No, I would, but I’m not going to waste one second on the possibility of it happening.”

  “Adam, please.” He was joking but it was hard for me to laugh.

  He took a bite of his fajita. I noticed he was trying very hard to keep the food in his mouth. Once he swallowed, he smiled again and said, “It’s not pretty but it works. Pull up a chair, Charlotte, you’re making me nervous.”

  “Why would you be nervous?” I reached for a tissue from his bedside table and wiped my nose.

  “I don’t know. I’m afraid you’re going to flee before I have a chance to say good-bye.”

  If you asked me seven months earlier how I would have described myself, I would have said fickle, indecisive, directionless, shallow, selfish, and utterly, obliviously ignorant of other people’s feelings. But all of that was changing, along with the rest of my life. Seven months ago, I might’ve walked out of that hospital room the moment I laid eyes on Adam. But now I was there with him and I wanted to change. To learn from his example.

  So I made a decision.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Adam. I’m staying with you. I might need to leave to get some of my belongings, but you’re coming with me.”

  “What?” He set down his fajita and reached his left hand across his body, gesturing for me to take it. Squeezing my hand as best he could, he said, “You have a job and a life. You don’t need to do this.”

  “I know I don’t need to; I want to. Are you going to tell me I can’t?”

  “But . . .”

  “No, listen. I’m sure you don’t need to be in here every second
of the day. Am I right?”

  “Well . . .”

  I took my purse from my shoulder and set it down on the bed so Adam would know I wasn’t leaving. “I’m going to talk to your nurse. I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Adam’s nurse was standing right outside his room, talking to a doctor. “Hello.” I interrupted them. The doctor was an older woman in her sixties with a kind face.

  “Hello,” the doctor said.

  “Do you need something?” the nurse chimed in.

  “I just wanted to know what the deal is with Adam? I mean, can he leave the hospital?”

  “Adam’s condition is declining,” the doctor said. “His parents are paying for him to have full-time care here.”

  “But he doesn’t actually require hospitalization at this point?”

  I had never had so much resolve in my life.

  The nurse said, “We’re keeping him comfortable.”

  “Okay, I get it. Adam is dying but he’s not dead. Can I take him outside? Can I take him for a drive?”

  The doctor shook her head. “You absolutely cannot take him off the property. There are all kinds of liability issues. As much as we would all love to give Adam some time away from this place, we just can’t do it based on the agreement we’ve made with his family.”

  My head dropped to the floor. Just before walking away, the doctor added, “I’m sorry.”

  When the doctor was gone, the nurse silently followed me into the room. Adam had finished eating and was still wearing a huge grin, which made the nurse smile. “I just realized I haven’t introduced you two,” Adam said. “Charlotte, this is my favorite nurse, Leah.” There was something about Leah that made me instantly trust her. She was older than me, maybe in her midthirties, but there was something in her big bluish-gray eyes that made her seem childlike and honest.

  I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “Likewise,” she returned. “I saw a picture of the mural. It’s beautiful,”

  “Yes, that was all Adam, though.”

  “Well, you were quite the inspiration for him.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling less than deserving of the compliment.