Little Time Left

Alex had been sick for about a week. He stayed upstairs for most of the days. We had even worked out a routine for each day because of how little I saw him.

Every morning I woke up, got changed, and cooked breakfast for the two of us. I ate my food first before bringing Alex’s upstairs. I knocked on the master bedroom door (I slept in the guest room for his sake), hoping that he'd open it.

He never did.

I would get a soft reply of, “Thank you, leave it on the ground,” and then silence. I then protested, demanding that he let me in, and still received no response. Sighing, I complied and left. I heard steady footsteps and the creak of the door opening and closing.

Lunch and dinner would be the same way. I’d cook for the two of us, leave his portion of food outside the door, and collect the empty dishes after an hour. Sometimes he wouldn’t eat at all. I could hear him vomiting it back up, or he would pour it down the drain.

At the end of the night I would knock on his door.

“May I come in?” I would ask.

“No,” he replied.

“Well, uh, goodnight then. I love you.” To this, I would get no response. It hurt, so to speak. I would sit on the ground outside the door, hoping that he would come outside of his room, or at least tell me goodnight.

I would wait for roughly two hours. Sometimes I cried, sometimes I didn’t. Can you imagine how I felt, suddenly being cut off and ignored by the man I loved most? It was heartbreaking. After a bit, I’d stand, brush off my pants, and murmured another soft, “I love you,” before retreating to my own bedroom to lie awake for another few hours.

It was a vicious cycle, you know. One that’s stuck for all these months, even after Alex’s passing. I still cook for two each day. I knock on his door, asking to be let in even despite knowing he’s not there to answer.

What a sad reality, really.

However, there was one day. The first time I saw Alex in weeks. I remember it vividly.

“Jack!” Alex screamed. I was in the kitchen when I heard his terrified cries and pounding footsteps from above. Before I knew it, the sobbing boy had flung himself into my arms.

“Alex? Alex, babe, what happened?” To say I was shocked was an understatement. I hadn’t seen Alex in weeks. This was all so sudden. He pulled away and thrusted a clump of brown in my face. It took me a moment to realize it was hair.

“You cut your hair?” I raised my eyebrows in confusion.
“It’s falling out,” he bawled. Oh. Alex’s hair meant the world to him. He treasured it like his baby.

I pulled the infected boy into the living room. I sat him on the sofa and then went back to the kitchen to make him a cup of soothing tea. When I returned, he was curled into a ball, clutching his head.

“Lexie, baby, sit up,” I cooed softly, sitting beside him and nudging his shoulder. “I made you some tea.” Surprisingly, he obliged. I handed the teacup to the trembling boy.

“I haven’t had tea in so long…” Alex’s voice was small and frail.

Humming softly, I responded, “Maybe you should come downstairs more.”

“Mm, maybe.”

I was content with our conversation. It was the calmest we had had since Alex got sick. “Why did you withdraw anyways?” I pondered.

A few beats of silence followed my question. I was afraid I had scared him off and had just about give up on getting an answer when he replied.

“I’m scared.”

Now it was my turn to stay quiet. I mean, obviously he would be scared. But was he so afraid that he avoided me for weeks?

Apparently so.

“I just… I don’t want you to get sick, and I don’t want to die.” His voice quivered, along with his lip. I had never seen Alex this fragile in my life.

“I know,” I said stupidly. But it was true, I understood. We talked about this a lot. “Stay with me. Don’t lock yourself up. I can help you with this, you know.”

Alex didn’t reply. He mulled over it while drinking his tea. I don’t know what he thought about for so long, since my argument was always the same.

“You’ll regret asking me this,” he finally told me.

I was bewildered. “Is that a yes? You’ll stay?” He nodded silently. Fucking finally. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, I tackled him into a hug. “I will take such good care of you and your hair.” I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent. “I promise.”