Love's Not Fair

Four

Clark's POV

April's memory was one of the best I'd seen. She could remember the smallest detail about something from years and years ago. Whereas I on the other hand, had a terrible memory.

"I asked you out babe, remember. I made the first move." April reminded me one day, as a random movie plays on TV in the background. Laughing and smiling at me.

"Okay, well I said I love you first." I said and she smiled at that. Little things that were very important though I could remember.

"That's true, you did say it first." April agreed, coughing some afterwards.

"I remember that day." April said, her voice becoming soft.

"We went down to that lake house in June, and we were watching the sun set while on that white wooden porch swing." April recalled, and watching her face it looked as if she was fading into that memory. As if she were swinging on that swing instead of being trapped in the same hospital bed.

"You had your arm around me and I can still smell the fresh air and the pine."

"You had your legs over mine, and curled up beside me a little. That quilt your grandmother sewed was thrown over us, as the air became chilly." I added, being able to see it all in that moment.

"I looked up at you when the last color in the sky was a light orange, and I saw you looking down at me. That's when you said it. When the last of the light was glistening in your eyes, you told me you loved me." April shared, tears collecting in her eyes.

"It was a perfect day." I told her, and she tilted her head to the left to look at me.

"Clark... I'm scared." She whispered, and after the months of pain... chemo... and worry. This was the first time she'd ever said that she was scared, admitted that there was fear inside of her.

I grasped her hand, holding onto her tighter. "I know, I am too."

She had a thing for birds as well. They were her favorite animal, and fascinated her to no end. She always had new pictures to look at, or books to read about either a fictional bird or a real type of species. The window in her room had a bird feeding hanging right outside it, so she was graced by the visitations of birds day by day.

"Why do you like them so much?" I had finally asked her one day, leaning my elbows on the bed.

"Because they get to fly away. They can fly away from any trouble, any problem... they just flap their wings and go." She answered me, gazing out the window.

"Would you want to fly away? If you could, would you fly away from this?" I asked her; just a silly question popping into my head.

I recall how she paused to think about it for a moment, instead of being quick with an answer.

"No." I sat up when I had heard that, definitely not the answer that I was expecting.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not one to walk--or fly-- away from my problems. My challenges in life. God had this plan for me for a reason, everything he does has a purpose for me. And if I had chosen to just fly away from this... I don't know. I guess I wouldn't feel much like me anymore." April explained to me, and I remember just looking at her in admiration. Because in every honest bone inside me, I would try to get as far as I could from this. If I was her, I'd fly away.

Again her faith showed up, and made her shine even more. It was watching some magic-- or miracle-- April would rather call it. The way she never doubted God, and most importantly herself. Some of the things she spoke to me, you'd second guess if she truly believed that. If the words from her mouth were filled with her truth, or just lies she wanted to believe. April was different, she meant every single thing she said. Every single thing. Never a lie, never a fib... nothing that wasn't truthful came from her lips.

Another strange thing about April was that she loved horror. Obsessed with horror, her choice of movie- something to chill you to the bone- her choice of TV show- American Horror Story- where it made you second guess reality. And then... she'd go to the opposite end of the spectrum. She loved sappy romances. Nicholas sparks- no movie left her eyes dry- movies with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan- were her Saturday nights. She was quirky that way I guess you could call it. But she was my quirky- romance loving- horror searching- little beauty.

"Turn the lights off!" She would giggle as the movie started, or the show were ghosts and witches reign.

"Seriously? This isn't spooky enough?" I would ask her each time, knowing that once I flipped that switch the room went pitch black-- except for the machines that would glow small different color lights-- only adding to the scariness.

But she wasn't afraid of the dark, Instead she loved it!

In the early years together, we would talk about the afterlife-- ironic I know. Talking about the other side and what it would hold. What it would look like.

"At least if you're stuck in darkness you won't be too afraid." I said to her once, as we ate dinner together.

"Where do you think I'm going Clark?" She had joked, her silly serious face on.

"I ain't going to hell, I'm going straight up to heaven. Where the golden gates will welcome me, and Jesus will come out to hug me. Happy to see me, in his timing."

Guess she was right, about timing. It wasn't up to life, wasn't up to her or to I. It's always up to God. And like somethings, God's timing and our timing... are just too different.