Rachel Dyken - Toxic

Saylor

Two days later, I was sitting next to Gabe while he read to Princess. She was still failing so he’d called hospice in. One of the nurses from the main hospice team came a few times a day to check on things, but since my mom was constantly around they didn’t stay. It wasn’t normal for hospice to approve of something like this, but in the end, it was about the patient. And Gabe was high profile so they didn’t mind. Besides, my mom wasn’t just any nurse. She was amazing, the best at what she did.

Eric called at least thirty times a day — he was staying with his best friend and thought it was the coolest thing in the world that he could spend the night on school nights for the entire week.

And I was stressed.

Not because of the situation.

But because I couldn’t focus on anything, not even my music. It was like, the passion that had once been there, the passion that Gabe had introduced me to, had been sucked dry. I literally had nothing to offer, nothing to give.

That evening, I walked into the piano room — the one littered with pictures of Gabe and Kimmy — and sat at the piano.

My fingertips grazed a few of the notes, but nothing. I felt nothing.

“Sometimes,” Gabe’s voice said from behind me. “It’s not passion that brings forth the music, but desperation.”

“I feel desperate,” I whimpered. “I also feel a bit lost.”

“Hmm.” His hands moved to my shoulders. “Play it out.”

“I can’t even find the beginning, let alone the ending, Gabe.”

“So?” He pushed down on my shoulders. “There’s gotta be a middle in there somewhere. Find that.”

I slammed my hands down onto the piano.

“Good,” he encouraged.

I slammed them again.

“Better.”

I lifted my hands to slam them a third time, then cracked as my hands fell gracefully across the keys, playing a song I didn’t even remember practicing.

My hands flew across the piano as I played.

Body overheated, sweat started to pool at my temples, threatening to drip down my face.

By the time I was finished, my chest was heaving, like I’d just run for hours without stopping.

“Beautiful.” Gabe took a seat on the bench and faced me. “Thank you, for what you did, for what you’re still doing.”

I looked away. “I feel helpless.”

“Don’t we all?” He sighed. “Sometimes, there’s really nothing to do but sit and stare at a wall… and wait for the inevitable.”

“Stupid wall,” I grumbled.

Gabe cracked a smile. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“You know what I mean.”

I did. I wasn’t avoiding him, but I was giving him space. Allowing him time to grieve, allowing him moments with her.

“I need you,” he whispered. “Even when I’m with her, my thoughts are with you, my heart was never fully given back to me, but the pieces I still had, were stolen the minute I kissed you. The minute our lips met. So don’t for a second think I don’t need you. Don’t think I don’t want you. Because I do. I. Need. You.” His mouth met mine, gently at first, and then with more urgency as his hands dug into my hair and tugged. “So beautiful.”

“I think I love you,” I blurted. “I’m so sorry.” I collapsed against his chest. “I’m so sorry I love you. I’m sorry.” I trembled. “I can’t help it.”

“That’s romantic.” He chuckled against my hair.

I smacked him, as tears threatened to pour. “I’m trying to apologize.”

“For loving me?” Gabe asked, just before his mouth met my cheek. His eyes roamed over my body then my face. “Why the hell would you apologize for giving me one of the most treasured gifts in your possession?”

“Because…” My lips trembled. “It makes it harder on you.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” He tilted his head. “And just so you know, Saylor, you’re mine. That love you feel for me? It gives me strength. Your face is all I see when I close my eyes, Saylor. So please don’t apologize for your love — don’t say you’re sorry… when I’m not…”

I sighed and hugged him.

Gently, he pushed me away, and his hands fell onto the piano.

“Split in two,” he sang, “Loved by one, and then another. Pulled in a direction and then the other. If I could breathe you in, all of you, every day of my life, it wouldn’t be enough. My heart was captive long ago — then you stole it away, you helped me grow. Now I’m staring at my crossroads with a choice to make, wondering how in the world I even thought there was one way to take.”

His hands flew over the piano, muscles tightened in his forearms as he leaned forward and continued singing.

“My biggest fear, is not the ending of this life, but going through it without you by my side.” He repeated the chorus and closed his eyes, humming the haunting melody in such a way that I felt hypnotized.

“Letting her go will be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do — but I’m doing it so I can say goodbye to her — and good morning to you. Tell me it’s not too late to ask for a second.” He smirked but continued singing. “Third, fourth, tenth date.” His hands slowed. “Loving you will always be easy because when I look into your eyes I know you see the real me, so be my love, be my rain, be my clouds, be my pain.”

“My biggest fear, is not the ending of this life, but going through it without you by my side.” He stopped playing.

The room fell silent.

“That was beautiful.”

Gabe turned. “It’s your song.”

“My song?” I repeated.

“Saylor’s song.” His smile returned. “I know it’s not very creative, but, it’s yours.”

“No.” I put my hand over his. “It’s ours.”

Gabe’s smile lit up my world as he leaned in and kissed me across the mouth.

“One more left,” I whispered against his lips.

“One more?” He pulled back.

“Tear.” I released a deep sigh “You only have one more to make up for.”

“I thought that’s what all this kissing was for.” He teased.

Laughing, I kissed him harder as his arms wrapped around me. He lifted me into the air and pushed me against the wall, assaulting my lips with such force that I let out a pitiful moan. And then another as his tongue twisted around mine, retreated and then pushed forward again. The guy could kiss. Seriously. Could. Kiss.

My knees weakened as he pressed his hands to my stomach steadying me on my feet.

“Gabe? Saylor?” My mom’s voice echoed down the hall.

I sighed in frustration as Gabe pulled back and bestowed one more kiss on my mouth.

“In here,” he called.

Mom walked into the room, took one look at me, and stumbled a bit. Once she regained her posture, she cleared her throat. “The oxygen mask is helping her breathe during the day, the ventilator at night, but… Gabe, I don’t have a good feeling. Her coloring is very pale, and her face…” Mom sighed. “What I’m trying to say is, she’s transitioning. I can see it. I can feel it. She’s starting to go.”

“Go?” Gabe croaked.

“Gabe.” Mom reached out and grabbed his hand firmly in hers. “Kimmy’s dying, but you need to let her go. Do you understand? People… even in Kimmy’s case, they try to hold on. They hold on and it’s so very painful when they do. The best thing you can do for her is allow her to rest in peace. Give her permission not to be strong.”

Gabe swayed on his feet. “I’ve been saying goodbye for years.”

“Maybe this time…” Mom said wisely. “You should mean it.”

It was like the accident all over again. I felt powerless — until Saylor grabbed my hand and didn’t let go. I used her strength — I used all of it. And for once I didn’t feel guilty for needing someone else. She was my savior. —Gabe H.

Gabe

Saylor held my hand as we walked into the room. It was nearing midnight, so the room was blanketed in black.

The only sound was that of the machine breathing for Princess, and the noises from her chest that would follow.

The ventilator was attached via a tracheotomy so that she could still talk, but Princess had stopped talking two days ago.

Now, she just stared at the ceiling, as if waiting for someone to call her home.

“Princess?” I kept my voice quiet, kneeling in front of her bed. Grabbing her hand, I whispered, “Kimmy, sweetheart?”

Her head turned, just enough so I could see the whites of her eyes. With a smile she nodded. “Tired, Ashton.”

“I know, sweetie,” I croaked. “I know you are.”

“Coughing.” She sighed, her chest rattling. “Hate this.”

“I know.” Was that the only phrase I could speak? I squeezed her hand tighter even though I knew she couldn’t feel it.

Her body was so broken that she couldn’t even feel my reassurance as I held on for dear life. And now her spirit was following that same body into heaven.

“I love you,” my voice cracked as tears trickled down my face. “But sweetheart, sometimes, it’s okay to stop fighting.”

“So tired,” she repeated.

“A nap sounds good, doesn’t it?” I said hoarsely. “Wouldn’t that feel good, sweetheart? To take a nice, long nap?” My voice cracked as Saylor came up behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders.

“Yes…” Princess said slowly. “Ashton, will you sing me to sleep…” Her eyes welled with tears. “One more time?”

“Yeah,” I whispered through my tight throat “I can do that.”

“And Ashton?” she pleaded, her voice so weak I was sick to my stomach.

“What sweetheart?”

“Thanks for being my best friend.” Her voice was so weak, it was hard to discern what she was saying.