When I Was Theirs

14. Ben

14

Ben

I don’t remember coming here.

I stare at the wall in my line of sight before my eyes drop down.

I feel tired. Tired enough to have run a marathon. My whole body is aching as I take in Emmy, her back leaning against the couch I’m lying on.

She’s gripping one of my hands in hers, the other scrolling through her phone. She’s so focused that she doesn’t notice me watching her.

I squint, taking in the text on the screen. Even that hurts my eyes.

Not nearly as much as the understanding that punches straight between my lungs.

“Glioblastoma,” I whisper.

Emmy almost shrieks, her head whipping around. “You’re awake.”

“Glioblastoma,” I say again. “That’s what it’s called.”

I feel almost numb as the word rolls off my tongue. I can’t remember the last time I mentioned it out loud.

“Okay,” she says slowly. But her face has paled. “Okay. So – we need to look at treatment—,”

Her hand tightens on mine as she cuts off, her voice breaking.

“What happened?” I ask instead. My head feels foggy. Heavy. “Where was I?”

Emmy looks down at our hands, locked together. “I was walking home from work, and you were walking up the middle of the street. In the… in the wrong direction.”

My mouth dries. “I forgot the way to the bar.”

She nods. “And the way home.”

Jesus.

I start pushing myself upright, wincing at the spikes that drive into my skull, but Emmy tugs me back down. “Where are you going?”

I shake my head. “I’m not doing this to you, Em.”

“That’s not what I asked.” She keeps hold of my hand. “Where are you going, Ben?”

I meet her eyes. “Away. Where you don’t have to watch this.”

“To another town?” she says quietly. “Another empty apartment?”

I flinch. “It’s easier that way.”

“ Fuck easier,” she snaps. “Easier for who? For you, on your own? Or for me, thinking of you out there without anyone to lean on?”

“For both of us,” I snap back. “ I’m not doing this to you . End of story.”

“There are trials,” she starts, but I cut her off.

“No,” I say sharply. “No more trials. No more treatment.”

She takes a breath. “What treatment did you have? Surgery?”

I shake my head. “It was already too advanced. Jared… he tried everything, Em. Everything. And it broke him.”

I see the understanding in her parted lips. “You left him.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t.

“Ben,” she whispers raggedly. “You left him?”

Slowly, I nod. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me.” She stares at me. “God, Ben. He must be losing his mind—,”

“But he doesn’t have to watch.” I sink my head down into my hands, yanking on my hair. “And neither do you. Trust me. I’ve seen it, Em. I went to the support groups. I watched the numbers go down. Friends of mine, people I got to know, dying like fucking dominos , one after the other after the other. And Jared - Jared nearly killed himself trying to fix me. He spent everything he had, gave up everything he was to try and find a fix that doesn’t exist. I am dying . I have months at best. Probably less.”

We both know there’s no probably about it.

Her face almost crumples, then, before she inhales, straightening. “You’re not running this time.”

“You didn’t sign up for this.” My breathing is heavy. “This is not casual, Emmy.”

“Casual was your word. I never signed up for casual.” She leans forward, eyeing me until our foreheads are pressed together.

My cheeks feel damp.

“I signed up for you,” she whispers. “You’re not running, Ben.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I can’t cope with the thought of it. “I can’t, Emmy.”

“I’m made of strong stuff,” she murmurs. “I’m strong enough to carry this with you, Ben. You don’t have to be alone. And I don’t believe that you want to be.”

No, I don’t want to be.

Nobody wants to walk toward death alone.

“Em.” I choke out her name as her arms wrap around me, strong and solid and sure. My arm wraps around her back as I bury my face in her neck, my body shaking.

“I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in fourteen months, I let myself cry. I let it all out, and Emmy takes every piece of my pain, holding it gently.

I should walk away.

But I’m not strong enough to do it twice.

And I’m not sure that there was ever a world in which I’d be strong enough to walk away from Emmy Marsters.

We end up moving from the couch into her bedroom, curling up under her bed covers and blocking the rest of the world out. Emmy’s back presses against my chest as I hold her. She turns until we’re facing each other, our noses almost brushing.

I repeat my thought from the first night we met. “Where did you come from?”

Her smile is impossibly sad. Impossibly beautiful, as I lean forward to kiss the corners of it. “I wish I’d met you sooner.”

I hold back my own words.

I wish I’d never met you at all.

If I hadn’t met her, I wouldn’t hurt her.

“You need to know what you’re signing up for,” I say roughly. “All of it, Em. Before you decide.”

“I’ve already decided.” Her lips brush mine, and I taste her tears. “But we should speak to your doctor anyway.”

I wince, and she scowls at me. “You haven’t spoken to them.”

“No,” I admit. “But… the pain is getting worse.”

It’s easier to admit that to her now. She sucks in a breath. “Then we’ll make an appointment. We’ll make a plan, Ben.”

A plan for my death.