Doctor's Orders

35. Flatline

I could hardly get enough air out of my lungs to form the word. "What?" I prayed - no, begged, pleaded, screamed - in that split second, hoping I had misheard her.

"I'm so sorry, dear. He passed a few hours ago. I've been making calls for Aunt Jean. I tried to call you first-"

"I saw that," I interrupted her. "Maybe I just didn't want to know." I laid my head on the kitchen counter and propped the phone next to my ear. "Do you know anything about-" I couldn't continue. My breath was stolen by grief, which turned into quaking sobs. "I'm sorry," I managed to say through my gasps. I felt Harry next to me, his warm hand rubbing circles over my back.

"I know," she choked. "It's okay. I'll call you with the arrangements, probably tomorrow."

When she hung up, the full weight of it hit me. I wept as if I was starting all over again, gasping from the sobs I so desperately wanted to stop, but at the same time, I wanted to keep crying until all the pain was gone, such a real, visceral pain that it made me feel physically ill. But I knew it would never be gone. 

Harry had been rubbing my back, murmuring little shushes. I stood up and he caught me in his arms, lifting me up onto the counter top, where he was able to fold both arms around me as I continued to mourn.

"Who was it?" He asked after a long while. He had likely heard my mom speaking through the phone, or he just knew I wouldn't fall apart like this if it wasn't something serious. 

Little hiccups got in the way of my words, but I forced them out anyway. "My cousin...Thomas....He was...he was my best friend."

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry," Harry murmured, stroking my hair, holding my head next to his heart. It was a comforting rhythm, the thump-thump of his heartbeat. "Was he sick?" 

I nodded and my hair stuck to his shirt and my face at the same time. "Cancer."

"Did you know he was dying? I never heard you talk about him," Harry wondered. "Of course, if you don't want to talk now, it's okay."

"No, it's fine," I said, looking up at him. The sweet concern written across his perfect face was enough to cheer me, at least momentarily. "It started five years ago. Somatostatinoma. They found it early and he was treated very thoroughly. He was in remission until this summer. I didn't find out until I went home for Labor Day weekend."

"Why didn't you tell-" He began, but then he bit his lip and shifted his eyes. "I'm sorry. Stupid question."

"It's okay," I sniffled. "It would have happened either way. It was just so fast. I hardly had time to say good-bye." That prompted another waterfall. Harry grabbed a wad of paper toweling, the closest thing he could find without walking away from me. I blew my nose unattractively and tried to hand him the wadded toweling, but he just gave me a sideways glance while he reached for the trash can. 

"Gosh, I'm so sorry," I said, trying to sniff away the last of my tears. 

"Why are you sorry?" He asked, sounding slightly angry, but I knew it was because he cared about me. I was certain of that much.