“Actually, no. I think most of the nerves in my back are shot. If you’re ever going to get a tattoo, do it when you’re dying,” he grinned.
I walked away, pretending I was looking at the designs on the wall. Really, his words had gotten to me. I wiped my eyes, embarrassed that my emotions were getting to me.
It was rare, but sometimes I actually managed to forget that he was dying. And then I’d remember. And my world would come crashing down again. This was one of those times.
“All done.” Andy turned, proudly showing off his new artwork. I had to laugh, because all I could see in my head was Deb’s face when she saw that. “Okay, now we can go home.”
“Not just yet,” I said in my most mysterious voice. Andy’s brow creased as I walked over to the tattooist. “Can you write Andy here?” I asked, pointing to the inside of my wrist.
“Sure. Take a seat.”
“Em,” Andy said, his eyes widening. “No way.”
“Why not?” I argued. “You did. This way I can remember you.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but thought better of it. “I love you so fucking much,” he whispered, love in his eyes. He sat next to me for the twenty minutes it took to have his name forever engraved into my skin. When it was finished, I held it up, examining my swollen red and blotchy skin and the beautifully scrawled Andy in the center of it.
“The swelling will go down after a few days, just rub some of this on it twice a day and keep it covered until it dries out.” He handed me a small bottle of cream. “Anything for you?” he asked Seth.
“Hell, no.” He turned to Andy. “You know I love you dude, but not happening.”
I chuckled as we walked out, holding my throbbing wrist in my hand. I can’t believe I actually did that. Andy had promised I’d enjoy myself, and while I’d been doubtful, I had to admit that he had been right. Thanks to him, I was pushing myself to experience things I never would’ve even considered had it not been for him.
***
I lay on the bed just watching him. Even asleep, he sounded awful; his chest was so congested that every inhale sounded like he had a lake in his lungs. Cora, my boss, had told me that as the lungs began to shut down it would become harder and harder for him to breathe.
Reaching out, I stroked his hair. It had grown back lighter than before and was fine like baby hair. I looked up as Marta poked her head in the door.
“How is he?” she asked softly.
I shrugged, tears pricking my eyes. “He sounds horrible,” I whispered. My lip trembled as it became harder to hold back the wave of emotion that was waiting to release.
“He should be in the hospital. Or at the very least, he needs a doctor.”
I nodded, knowing that as well as she did. The hospital wasn’t what he wanted, though. There was no getting better from this, and I was determined to honor his wishes for as long as I could. But I couldn’t stand to see him in pain.
“Can you call a doctor? Do you know someone?” I asked. We were hours away from home and his medical team.
She nodded, giving me a sympathetic smile as she backed out of the room.
I turned back to Andy and took his hand, folding my fingers between his. Carefully, I unwrapped the bandage that had been neatly wrapped around my tattoo. It was red and angry, but seeing his name etched onto me made me smile. It had been a small gesture, but this was my way of remembering him.
Chapter Sixteen
Seth
Where the hell am I supposed to get half this shit from?
It was Friday afternoon and I was at the Home Depot with a list of supplies Andy had given me for the wake. The whole idea of a live wake still irked me, but there was no talking him out of it. Marta had told me it was pretty common for those who were dying to want to say goodbye. I understood that, but calling it a wake seemed so morbid. But that was Andy: he wanted to be remembered.
He and Em were spending the day together, and for once I’d felt like a third wheel, which was why I’d jumped at the chance to do his last-minute shopping. Watching the two of them together was hard, especially when he was so sick. I could see how much he loved her, and I could see how much she was hurting. I so badly wanted to be the one comforting her.
I left Home Depot with everything Andy had asked for. It was still pretty early, and I wasn’t ready to head back home just yet. I spied a Starbucks across the road and made my way over.
Sitting down with my coffee, I pulled out my phone just as it began to ring. My heart sank as the name flashed across the screen. It was Deb. She hadn’t called for a couple of days. I felt so bad about lying to her. She had to be freaking out; her son was dying, and she had no idea where he was. How was that fair?
Before I realized what I was doing, I’d pressed answer. I held the phone to my ear and struggled to think of words to say that would make up for this.