Love Never Wanted Me

11

"Patrick."

"Hmm?"

"I asked you if you were feeling alright."

"Mhm, I'm fine, El."

"You always were a shit liar."

I let out a breathy chuckle as I run my hand over my face. God, I feel horrible. I didn't wake up like this. No, today actually started out really good. I woke up feeling normal for the first time in awhile; no headaches or stomach aches, nothing. Call it a Christmas miracle, if you will. It wasn't until the drive over here, to the house, that I started to feel ill.

Yes, I'm back at the house already. It's part of what Elsa and I agreed to: I would get Rose on Christmas Eve and she would get Christmas Day. In all honesty, I was hoping to just drop Rose off, say a cordial 'Merry Christmas' to El, and then get back to apartment building to rest and be with Delilah. However, Elsa took one look at me and then insisted that I stay for a bit. She must've noticed how pale I was or something. She just stared at me with the most worried gaze, kinda like how she is now.

So, I stayed which wasn't so bad. Elsa and I watched Rose open her presents, just like we would when our daughter was younger. We sat on the couch and talked about life: I asked about her promotion and she asked me about how my writing was coming along. We talked about her new place and, surprisingly, she even offered me the chance to move back in sooner then we had planned.

"My stuff is already over there," she had said, "Whenever your ready, you can move back in."

We didn't argue or anything. Hell, once Rose had opened her presents, Elsa even insisted that the three of us take a picture together! It was nice, really nice; Just the three of us, being a family and not worrying about our troubles.

It's only just now that I've started to feel sick again and reality has set back in. The room's spinning and my head has begun to pound. I'm nauseous, I'm dizzy, my throat is dry and my whole body aches.

In short, I'm a fucking mess.

"Here," Elsa says, handing me a glass of water as she sits back down next to me on the couch.

"Thanks," I say, taking the glass and slowly sipping it. I feel like if I drink it too fast I'll just throw it back up. Once I'm done, I set the glass down on the coffee table and then lean back against the couch cushions.

"Does this happen a lot?" She asks, sounding like she genuinely is concerned.

"Pretty much everyday," I reply, "but it doesn't last that long. I just get so exhausted that it's hard to stay awake."

"You can head upstairs and lay down, if you want," she offers, "Rose is in her room so she won't see."

"No, no, it's okay," I say, leaning back against the cushions, "It'll pass. Besides, I don't mind if Rose sees me like this."

"Oh! You...you don't?"

"She's going to have to know about me sooner or later."

Elsa nods as she looks down at her lap; "So you haven't told her yet," she says, "Can I ask why not?"

"I didn't know how to," I reply, "I tried once, before I got the diagnosis, but I couldn't get the words right."

"You? Having trouble finding the right words?" She says, nudging my arm, "I doubt that, Shakespeare."

I chuckle slightly and nudge her back: "Well, it's true," I say, "Actually, I, um, I was going to suggest that we tell her together."

Elsa's eyes widen a bit as she nervously looks up at me: "Oh, um, are...are you sure?"