Losing Touch

The week after I had fainted and been pushed over, I had started feeling worse and worse. John was obviously stressed out and completely in the dark as to why I was feeling so weak. He still thought that I was well enough to take a break from chemo - but that isn’t the case at all.

As the days progressed and the weaker I felt, the more the guilt ate away at me. I was stressed, and that was the last thing I needed at this point in my life.

I sighed and looked around at the empty green room I was sitting in. I was all alone because the guys were going to grab something for lunch and then come back and sit in here with me while they ate. But while they were gone, I had become immobile.

Due to my lack of vigor, it had become impossible to move without assistance. If I tried standing up by myself, then I would wobble for a few steps before my knees would buckle and cause me to fall to the ground.

And now I could barely speak, my vocal chords had been taken hostage by my body’s feebleness. I had the ability to mutter out a few words when needed, but it was rare that I could hold a complete conversation. And with all of this, my stomach couldn’t bear to retain any food. The only thing I could keep down was water, and even that seemed to be getting more problematic as the days passed by.

As my thoughts started to settle, I heard the resonance of five boys’ feet hitting the floor of the venue. I smiled dimly as they all sauntered into the room where I had been sitting stationary. They all smiled perkily back at me, with the exception of my husband - who I could tell was having a hard time just looking at my fragile state.

I groaned as Kennedy plopped down into the cushion next to the one I had been occupying for the last half an hour. He smiled apologetically at me before starting to consume his Chipotle burrito. The smell drifted into my nose, and struck me as disgusting. It must’ve been apparent on my face because he stopped eating and stuck the massive burrito back into its wrapping.

He daintily squeezed my shoulder and walked off farther into the room. Soon after, John sat down next to me with something less sordid (or so I thought). He had ordered a salad, and he slowly ate the combination of food as he held my hand.

“Zoe, are you being completely honest as to why you’re out here on tour with us?” John questioned abruptly once he had ingested all of his lunch.

I looked up at him in horror. I didn’t want to tell him, especially with everyone else in the room. Kennedy knew the truth, and therefore he had dropped his burrito onto the table he was sitting at once John had verbalized his thoughts.

He had almost an identical look on his face as I did, or so I guessed.

“Zoe?” John persisted.

I nodded my head. “Guys?” I asked unobtrusively and they all respected my wishes and walked out of the room after taking the final bites of their food. They all smiled at me, trying to help me build up confidence - even though they themselves didn’t even know of my condition.

“So? What’s wrong Zoe? You know you can tell me anything. I’m your husband, your best friend. I love you so much.” He said sincerely.

My eyes already had collective tears due to his genuineness. I reached for his other hand and grasped it as tightly as I could manage. “I’m dying.”

John

My eyes widened and I looked at Zoe as the tears started to flow down her face. As I sat there staring at my wife, I didn’t realize my own tears that had started falling.

I reached over and embraced her. I had a hunch, and now it was confirmed. My worst fear was a reality. I was going to lose the one person who had been in my life for years and years; I was going to lose my best friend.

No one would ever replace her.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I asked in a scared voice.

“I was afraid.” She said and then cleared her throat. That’s how I knew this conversation wouldn’t go much farther. Her vocal chords were giving in for now, and she would be ready to talk some more in a few hours.

So I just hugged her tighter, but I was careful not to harm her. In the last two weeks, she had become a frightening shade of pale, and her clothes now looked like they could fall off at any second due to the weight she had lost.

She hadn’t been eating, and barely drinking any fluids. I looked back at her face, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach flutter slowly. They had always been there whenever I was in the presence of Zoe, and I would never take the feeling for granted.

I kissed her chapped lips and still - after all of these years - felt the electricity surge throughout my body as my heart swelled with love, but ached with the reality of Zoe’s death.

“I love you so, so much Zoe. I don’t think I’ve told you that enough; I don’t think I ever will. Nothing can completely show you how much I really love you.” I said as one stray tear of mine fell onto her face. I took my thumb and wiped it away.

“Love you.” She said hoarsely and I kissed her once again.

I was going to kiss her as much as I could now, because I now knew that I wouldn’t be able to for much longer. I was going to spend every moment I could with her, I wasn’t going to leave her side. I wanted to be there for her, to show her that she wasn’t leaving alone. She was going to have a piece of me from now and until forever, I didn’t care if she wouldn’t believe it.

“Darling, are you dreaming, are you dreaming of me now oh oh oh whoa, screaming, are you screaming, ‘cause it's such a nightmare now oh oh oh. Oh there must be, must be something else waiting for you, oh oh oh oh oh oh, there must be, must be something else waiting for you, oh oh oh oh oh. I can't keep on without you, I can't keep on without you. Leaving, are you leaving, when I need you here the most, oh oh oh…”