Remembering Sunday

My head was killing me. It was as if someone had a jack hammer placed on my temple and was going to town with it.
I opened my eyes and groaned, the blinding white light frying my retinas. My tongue was dry as sand paper and it stuck to the top of my mouth, my stomach empty and growling. There was a butt grove in the crappy hospital mattress.
I whimpered as I rolled over, tubes pulling at my arms and the scratchy sheets irritating my exposed skin.
"Wednesday?"
I craned my neck and saw Jack sitting in the corner, staring at me.
"Hmmm?" I moaned.
Jack got up and sat on the edge of my bed.
"How do you feel?" He asked.
"Thirsty," I mumbled.
Jack pushed a button above my head, then grabbed a paper cup from the night stand and brought it to my lips.
I gulped the water down, only stopping when it was empty and gasping for breath.
"Gee, woman. Come up for air," He chuckled.
"My head hurts," I whined.
"I bet. They had to put in the Ommaya," Jack explained. "Things took a turn for the worst."
My stomach dropped. Putting the Ommaya in only meant one thing, it would only be a matter of time before I lost my hair.
I felt tears roll down my cheeks. Jack brought his sleeve to my face and mop them up.
"Come on baby. Please don't do that," he whispered, laying down next to me. I scooted over as his large frame snuggled into the small bed with me, his body heat warming my skin and his familiar scent filling my nostrils. He smelt like Hollister mixed with the musk of a man. (If that made any sense.) He put his arms around me and rubbed my back.
"Why me Jack?" I sobbed. I had asked Jack this question many times and he would always answer with the same statement.
"Because not so very good things always happen to so very so good people."
We were interrupted by a small knock on the door.
"Come in!"
It was Lacey. She walked into the room wearing her purple scrubs, her blonde hair in a high pony tail, and a clipboard in her arms.
"Hey Wednes. How are ya?" she asked in her high pitched childish voice.
I told her my head ached and she messed around with one of the many machines around me, pressing buttons and turning dials.
"There ya go, my dear. You should feel better soon," Lacey promised. She then turned and walked out of the room.
My eyelids became droopy again, I yawned.
"I luh yew Jach," I mumbled, my eyes closing as I yawned again.
Jack chuckled and replied. "I love you too, baby." I felt his lips touch my aching forehead as the darkness enveloped me and bright colors danced across my eye lids, pulling me into a dream where I was a super hero and nothing could bring me down...
**Jacks POV**
I went home a few hours after Wednesday had gotten up. Her color had returned and she looked a little better.
She kept touching her hair. I knew what she was thinking. In a few weeks, her beautiful brown locks would be gone.
"You'll still be beautiful to me baby," I had reassured her over and over again, but I knew the thought would still be in the back of her mind as she felt around the giant bald spot where the procedure was done. But there was no going back now.
The cancer had spread to her brain. Chemo wasn't working. I watched everyday as her confidence fell and she worsened. I wanted nothing more than to help her but I couldn't. All I could do was sit and watch as her breathing worsened, her eyes became dull, as if there was no hope left. She was put on oxygen and now had to wheel around a tank. I tripped over it frequently and the cannula in her nose made it difficult to kiss her.
She had very few good days. But there was one that I will always remember.

It was a Sunday. One of the few sunny days we had in mid April here in Baltimore.
I was in the middle of playing Call of Duty when my phone started ringing.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hey babe! I feel really good today so I declare that we go do something fun," Wednesday demanded.
I shut off my xBox and pulled on some pants, smooshing my phone between my shoulder and ear.
"Sounds good babe, what do you want to do?" I asked her.
"Let’s go rob a bank!” She suggested. I laughed.
“As much fun as that sounds like, I don’t think they’ll let you have an oxygen tank in prison,” I replied.
She sighed. “Okay, then how about a picnic?”
"That actually sounds great. Be over in a bit."
Half an hour later I was hauling her oxygen tank across the bright green grass, the sun shining above us. Her smile was amazing. The first real smile I had seen in a while.
I spread out a blanket and helped her get situated on it, then handed her a sandwich and watched as she devoured it. It was nice to see her getting food in her system.
We sat in silence for a while, watching the other people in the park. A couple with their kid, a guy and his dog, many roller bladers.
“I wish I could still roller blade...” Wednesday sighed. I pulled her into my lap and kissed her cheek.
“Don’t we all?” I laughed. I couldn’t roller blade either.
After a while of just us talking and laughing we decided to go back to my house.
When we arrived I noticed that nobody was home.
We ended up playing Call of Duty for a few hours. About 20 matches later and countless deaths, Wednesday put down her controller and lugged herself onto my lap, kissing me fiercely.
I stopped her.
“Wednes, what are you doing?”
Not that I was objecting, I just didn’t want to hurt her or anything.
“Jack Barakat, I don’t have a lot of good days left, but I’m having one today and I want to make it the best ever, with you.” She stated, a mysterious glint in her eyes and she grabbed my hand and dragged my and her oxygen tank up the stairs. She kicked open my bed room door, making me laugh and she shoved me in and hopped on my bed. She sat down and patted the bed next to her. I sat down. She put her hand on my chest.
“Gimme a minute,” she asked, gasping for air. I always felt so guilty for all of the stairs in my house.
Once she was oxygenated enough, she pulled me down onto my side and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me lightly, her cannula pressing into my philitrum.
I pulled her shirt over her head, getting it caught on the tube. She finished the job, untangling it from her shirt as I blushed like a 13 year old seeing boobs for the first time.
She resituated herself and went back to kissing me, eventually rolling on top of me.
We carried on that way for some time before she stopped and looked me in the eyes.
“I’m ready,” she announced, rolling onto her back. “I love you and only you, Jack Barakat.”
And on that note, I carried on. Gently, passionately, sweetly, until it was twenty minutes to her curfew. Then I took her home.
It wasn’t awkward, or painful. It was perfect. More perfect than I could have ever imagined. We would both be remembering this Sunday.