I apologize in advance for the boring/sad chapter, but now that this is overwith the story will go on a little quicker and more interesting hopefully. Although there is no smut in this chapter, be looking out for some very soon *wink wink* (Zoe and Megan) hahaha love you guys so much for reading :* 'lacy
sandy's p.o.v.
For weeks upon weeks, I sat by George's side. I rarely ever left. I couldn't help but think that this was my fault. I had thrown him away like he was nothing to me. For those few weeks I thought about him. About us. Smiling and laughing at the good times. Crying at the bad times. Crying at the fact that he couldn't think about those memories with me. He wasn't "nothing" me. He was everything. As much as I tried, I couldn't live without him. I needed him.
Not many others came to visit him. Only Julia, or Jen, or Emma would bring me something to eat or drink every once in a while. I was okay with that. I felt like we both needed it to be just us. We didn't need anyone else and I'm sure he felt my presence. Even though he wasn't exactly there, I felt his spirit. His warm, comforting spirit. The spirit I loved.
There I sat, begging God, or whoever the unworldly being might be, to save George. Or to save me. I was the one in pain, not him. I was suffering. I felt this was my punishment. George was punishing me for not showing him the love I truly felt for him. For pretending that he was the last person in the world that I wanted to be with. For not giving him the love he deserved. The love he constantly asked for.
"I really love you," I spoke aloud, holding his hand, though I knew he wouldn't be able to respond. "He loved you, too. More than you know," I heard Jen's voice say. "I knew...I know," I corrected myself. "I tried to forget." She pulled up a chair next to me and rubbed my back. "Why won't you let anyone love you, Sandy?" she whispered. "The way Jess loved me?" I asked, sarcastically. "No thanks."
jen's p.o.v.
"Sandy, you know George was nothing like that," I informed her. "Is," she replied, firmly. "Pardon?" I said, looking at her, blankly. "George IS nothing like that,"she repeated. "He isn't dead." "I didn't mean..." She cut me off. "He is breathing. Even if it's through those damn awful tubes, he is breathing." I hold my breath for a few seconds then say, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I just.." "Forget it," she cuts me off before I can even finish my sentence. "I've never seen him like this" "Like what, baby?" "Helpless. Weak. Overtaken. Alone," she says, shedding a few tears. "He's not alone. He has you. You have been there for him for as long as I can remember and you're here for him now. You're the woman who has been sitting here by his side for weeks. Don't ever think you're not enough for him. You're more than enough to him. You're so much better than anything anyone could ever ask for, Sandy." She looks at me, saying nothing, her eyes glistening with tears. She sniffled repeatedly and I could tell she was trying to hold it in. "Come here, babe," I said opening my arms, hugging her tightly, as she finally broke down. I ran my fingers through her hair and rubbed her back as she sobbed into my chest. I hadn't seen Sandy this hurt in a long time. She pulls away wiping her eyes and wiping her nose with her shirt sleeve. "I'm sorry, Jen...I-I..." "Sandy, it's okay to cry. It doesn't make you weak. I know that's what you think, but it doesn't. It makes you human. I know you're hurting and it's okay to hurt. It's okay to let your feelings out." She shakes her head, not speaking, as another tear comes out of her left eye and rolls down to her chin. I wipe the tear off her chin with my forefinger and slowly kiss her on the cheek. "We know you're strong. You don't have to act like you're okay all the time. No one can be okay all the time and you shouldn't pretend to be."
Silence.
"Jen, don't you have somewhere to be," Sandy asked me. "Uh...yeah I've got to get to the set," I answered her. I kissed her forehead before heading out the door.
sandy's p.o.v.
I appreciate Jen, I really do, but she doesn't understand this. She can't. This type of grief can't be handled by shedding tears. It's just not right. This is the type of grief that only time can help. Even the slightest miracle causes more grief. This grief is your own fault and no one else's. You did this to yourself and no one can save you but yourself.
All this time, I still had not let go of George. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. He still meant so much to me. I loved him. Everyone was waiting; expecting him to die. The doctors. The nurses. His so-called "friends". But I knew him too well. I knew he was a fighter. If he wasn't ready, he wasn't going anywhere. So, as I sat there, with my eyes closed, I was ready. "I love you so much," I whispered. And when he replied, "I love you so much more." I was ready.
