A Five-Minute Life

“No.”

“Jimmy, I swear to God…”

“What happens next, Thea?” I demanded, stalking out of the bathroom, forcing her to back up. “You keep taking it, and then what?”

“I have time. I get to live,” she cried.

“Shit, Thea.” I carved my hand through my hair. “We knew this was a risk—”

“Fuck you,” she screamed and gave a rough shove to my chest. “Fuck you for saying that after everything we’ve had this week. After this time I’ve had, free from that prison.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry, but Jesus, Thea…”

“You have no idea what you’re asking me to do.”

“Neither do you,” I cried, the frustration and anger raging back. “What are we going to do, Thea? Go sight-seeing? Be fucking tourists? Maybe let you get me wasted again so we can pretend everything is okay when it could explode at any fucking second?”

“Shut up.” She shook her head, tears spilled over her eyes. “Just shut up.”

“How about we go to the top of the Empire State Building so I can watch you collapse in my arms and die?”

“Shut up, Jimmy! Don’t ruin my Empire State… Don’t do this…”

The anger bled out of me, deepening into agony. “They’ll make more medicine. Better medicine. They’ll try again.”

“No.” She paced a small, frustrated circle in the center of the room. “No… No, I can’t.”

“And I can’t watch you—”

“Watch me what? Fade away? Forget you? Go back to sleep? Five minutes, Jimmy,” she cried, splaying her fingers out. “I get five minutes and nothing else. It’s like living in a tiny little box and as soon as I start to climb out, I fall back in again. Except it’s not even that clear. That would be consciousness. I don’t have the luxury of consciousness. You’re afraid of me dying? Without the meds, Jimmy…” She took a watery breath. “I’m already dead.”

I shook my head slowly, my vision blurring. Emotions I’d never experienced swamped me. I could barely swallow them down.

She’s not yours. She never was. Doris sneered. You don’t get to cry…

“No…” I murmured, not knowing who I was answering.

“Yes,” Thea cried. “I get a few minutes to build a life and then it’s torn down again, over and over. I can’t begin to describe what a fucking nightmare it is. I already tried. I told you in those word chains. I screamed at you from those drawings.”

I clenched my jaw. “I know.”

“You don’t know. I smiled and was so goddamn cheerful all the time, right? That’s because all I had was a pitiful little flicker of hope. Hope for the things I knew were true: Mom and Dad were coming, and the doctors were working on my case. They were going to help me. That’s all I had. For two years. Only Mom and Dad weren’t coming, and the doctors had given up. Delia was going to let me rot in that prison.”

“Not this time,” I said. “Dr. Milton came close. He’ll try again…”

“And how long will that take? Two more years? Two more years of me waking up again and again. Mid-shower. Chewing a bite of food.” Her voice broke. “Or looking into your eyes and having the faintest suspicion that somewhere down deep, we mean something to each other. Like an itch I can never scratch. Not even an itch. An echo of a dream of an itch. A feeling I might’ve had once, but I can’t grasp it. Can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything. Can you imagine having thoughts or feelings that only last long enough to know you don’t get to keep them?” She shook her head, her body trembling. “I won’t go back to that life. I’d rather die in your arms at the top of the Empire State Building.”

The words hung in the air between us. The ground beneath my feet broke apart. Shattered. Everything we built was being ruined, along with everything we were going to build. All our future plans.

“You’ll remember us,” I said, faltering, grasping. “Like the music and your painting, you’ll remember.”

She shook her head, tears falling. “No,” she whispered. “It’s too hard.”

“Don’t give up on me, Thea,” I said, moving toward her. “Isn’t that what you asked me? N-N-Not to give up on you?”

“I know but… I can’t, Jimmy.”

I was in front of her now, reaching for her.