Done Adulting Vol. 1 Ch. 7 (Patreon)

“Yes, I’m sure,” Eric answered as he looked into her eyes, trying to make sure she could see he was sure, wanting to give to her that confidence.

Cheryl held the form in front of Eric, who took the pen and made his initials and signed his name.

Cheryl signed, and Tish signed as witness. Cheryl closed the folder, dropped the pen back into her pocket, and took up Eric’s hand again. Tish looked from Eric to Cheryl and back again.

“Are you both ready,” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Their grips tightened.

Tish withdrew a syringe from the pocket of her lab coat, threaded it into the IV port, and as she had thousands of times, said, “Just relax.”

Cheryl leaned down and placed her lips on Eric’s forehead.

Eric felt the kiss and closed his eyes.

Tish pushed the fluid into the IV.

Eric felt the drugs begin to work almost immediately and was taken by an impulse to try to stay awake, as though he shouldn’t give in to the darkness. Don’t need to fight it, Eric reminded himself, hardly completing the silent sentence before sentience faded.

Cheryl felt his fingers loosen, then go slack, and she lowered his limp hand to the bed. She stepped back, hardly aware she was crying again.

Tish secured an oxygen mask around Eric’s nose and mouth, checked the monitors, leaned out from the curtain and called, “Jackie, this patient is under.” Turning back to look at Cheryl, she shook her head, put her arm around her, and walked her back down the corridor and through the ward to where Eric’s clothes were still folded on a chair.

Tish closed the door behind them. Cheryl looked at the clothes.

“You love him,” Tish asked. The question hung in the air.

“Maybe,” Cheryl answered.

Tish moved around Cheryl and took a plastic bag from the cabinet next to the chair and dropped each article of clothing into it. She went through Eric’s wallet, inventoried its contents on a piece of paper Cheryl wasn’t aware she’d handed her, and deposited it as well. This was Cheryl’s job; she stood, eyes unfixed on anything, not moving to help.

Tish started powering down Eric’s phone and thought better of it. Handing it to Cheryl, she said, “Maybe you want to keep that for a while.” She handed Cheryl the bag. “Honey, why don’t you go drop this in your office and take the rest of the day off?” It was said with sympathy.

“Yeah, good idea … Tomorrow is another day.”

Tish left the room, spotted another ready light, and moved on to her next patient. Cheryl took the bag of Eric's belongings back to her office. Thinking for a moment, she took out Eric’s t-shirt and placed it in her purse. No one will miss it, she told herself, and crossed out the line-item on the inventory.

Cheryl left her office and stuck her head around her boss’s door. “I’m going to take the rest of the day, Ash.” Ashley saw the dried tear trails on her face and the damp cotton of her shirt.

“That’s fine. See ya tomorrow,” Ash said. Cheryl turned to go.

“Hey, Cheryl,” her boss called after, “Why did you put some much into that case. Just asking.”

Cheryl half-smiled for almost a moment. “Have you ever met someone who was wholly good? I mean, someone who is all good on the inside?”

Ash shook her head. “I guess I haven’t.”

“When you do find someone like that, you … it’s your responsibility to protect them. That’s as close as we’ll ever come to doing what they do.”

At home, showered and in pajamas, blinds drawn, Cheryl opened Eric’s letter.

My Dearest Cheryl,

I will likely never repay the kindness you have shown me these past months. I take with me the memories of our time together, and I would not trade the sorrow of parting from you for all those moments. I leave trusting you know the depth of my affection for you.

Though I am leaving, I can’t say I’m not still torn.

I had a responsibility to my kids that I considered sacred. It wasn’t always mine, nor was it mine alone. I did my best.

Perhaps you were right and I take the sins of others onto myself. Perhaps my sin is vanity, believing I could have done more than is plainly in the power of anyone to do. Perhaps I’ll learn accepting my limitations is not the same as giving up, nor defeat, but coming to realize what I can do instead of knowing only what I cannot. Perhaps in time I’ll even learn to forgive myself for leaving.

I want you to know I leave with a fuller heart for all you have done for me, the courage you gave me, gentle words that calmed me, the intimacy we shared. I miss you fiercely already. I miss you already.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I have to leave. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. I’m sorry for how it hurts. I’m sorry we’re parting. I’m sorry these words won’t make it even a little better. But I’m not sorry we met, and I never will be. Would we had met some other time, how different our lives might have been.

If you should ever have need to make account of the good you’ve done in the world, tell them you made an unhappy man happy for a time. Tell them you saved me. Tell them you made a difference.

And now I ask of you one more thing, which I’ve no right to. I once told you that while I may be leaving my kids behind, I will not – cannot – forget them. But I don’t know what the future holds for me. I only know that we can’t keep all the promises we make.

I have enclosed a list of names. Will you keep it safe for me, and from time to time, take these pages and read the names of these people?

They are ours. When time comes for all of us, may we at least be able to say, we did not forget our own.

With all my love,

Eric

PS,

You promised to visit!