It was but a month ago that she was first admitted in such a disintegrated form. A month ago he had been a mechanical ghost, lost in a confusing world. At this weak point of his life, she taught him the ways she thought the world worked. He found her captivating and insightful, and as anemic as she was, she helped him lift the weights off his shoulders. They talked very often, conversing about books mostly. He brought her flowers daily because he loved the momentary light she showed on her ill face.
He knew the complications he created for her and himself, he knew the consequences of the predicted aftermath. He was meant to facilitate her healing, which he was of course still doing, and nothing more. But only a blind man would be able to avoid such a significant hold. He loved the warmth he had yearned for so long. It was easy to forget the complexity of the situation they had been thrown into because of the temporary illusion they had made for themselves.
“Oliver, please stay with me tonight. I’m so chilled and it’s so bright in this room.” Annabelle pleaded to him as he stared out the large, rectangular window into the black abyss. He turned and looked at the shadowy, thin figure on one of the beds. He had been off duty for some time now, but something in him had made him opt to stay a few more hours. By now the night shift was already in motion, and he knew that his replacement would check on Annabelle soon.
“Of course I’ll stay with you, I’d like nothing more.” He said, smiling. He watched as she carefully shifted to the right side of the bed. He climbed in on the left. She held his left hand in both of her frigid ones, tracing the creases of hard work with a bony finger.
“I wonder if death feels like this.” She murmured softly.
“Don’t speak of such things.” Oliver said in a hushed tone.
“Will you come see Paris with me some day?” She asked, her dull eyes looking up into Oliver’s iridescent blue ones.
“Yes, of course. We’ll need to know French first, however.” He chuckled.
Annabelle pondered for a moment.
“How long would that take?”
“If you have enough determination, not too long.”
Annabelle smiled to herself. She too had never experienced the warmth that came with companionship. Even through her frozen, brittle bones she could feel it like the radiant sun on her skin. She had grown fond of Oliver quickly in the beginning, for she had fancied his kindness and smile. But with time, she observed his hardships with society and eventually felt sympathy for him as well.
‘Don’t seek acceptance from others, you will only receive endless chagrin and emptiness. You need only to seek acceptance for yourself, and that is what really matters.’
‘And of my place?’ He had asked.
‘If you do not know you’re place in this world yet, you will with time. You will figure out what you were meant to do if you only have the patience to wait for the answer. I still do not know my place.’
“Listen, Annabelle. I have something for you but you don’t have to accept it.” Oliver said slowly. She could see that there was something off in the way that he acted on this night, and it worried her ceaselessly.
“What is it?” She asked softly, watching as he fished for something in his uniform pocket. She felt her heart explode from both joy and sadness as her blank eyes took in the shape of two silver bands.
“Oliver . . .” She began, but he gently took her bony left hand and placed the silver ring around her fourth finger and did the same to his own hand.
“I know,” He murmured, “I know that this is absurd, but I want to be married to you. You have shown me this life in a new light and you’re the kindest soul I have ever encountered.”
Annabelle couldn’t speak, so she nodded her head slowly. She viewed him in the same way. He understood her silent words, and they both rested their heads on the pillow.
It was a foggy image of two visions intermingling together. A healthy and beautiful young woman with an infant stood beside a strapping young man in front of a quaint little cottage. They stood with happiness strewn across their faces and silver bands on their fingers. The image was golden and glowing like an old film, replaying the same scene over and over. But the infant is no longer to be seen and the woman turns to the man and gives a peck on his cheek and squeezes his right hand. Horror strikes the man’s features and he tries to speak, but his voice does not exist. She gives him the kindest of smiles as her image begins to fade to nothing more than an apparition. As she finally fades to nothing, the scene turns from golden to blinding snow as the man’s name is repeatedly called from outside this realm.
“Oliver! Oliver!”
“What is it?” Oliver groaned as white turned to color. As he blinked sleep from his eyes, he looked about the now lighted room at several figures in coats that stood before him gaping and looking horrified. The closest standing by him was his fellow co-worker Winifred.
“Oliver, please come with me. Quickly.” Winifred pleaded her eyes huge and rimmed with plight. Fear struck Oliver. He was only supposed to stay a few hours with Annabelle, but he had fallen asleep.
Annabelle.
It was as if in slow motion. Each horrified face increased in horror as Oliver turned slowly to his right and set his shocked eyes on a very still Annabelle. He felt fooled only for a split second, telling himself she always slept with such stillness. And then the silence was disturbed with shrill yells. He wailed over her body, clutching her hand with the silver band. His face rushed with water as he gazed into that same peaceful face, waiting for life to spring back into it. The people around him tried to gently remove him from the lifeless body, telling him over and over that she was gone. But he didn't need to hear it aloud, he knew all along; from the moment that they had met that she was gone. From the moment he had read her illness and prognosis on his clipboard. Her whole life she was destined for this demise. She had been a girl controlled by the very bones that kept her captive- the very bones that raged its cancerous ways on her weak body.
By now Oliver was getting quite aggressive with fending off people who tried to remove him from Annabelle. So aggressive that two male doctors had to snatch him by the arms and drag him outside the room where his wails could still be heard. It caused quite the commotion, for heads popped out of nearby hospital rooms to observe what was going on. The two doctors kept their grasp on him while he struggled to get free. The head doctor was pacing back and forth in the hallway before them, his face etched with seriousness. He turned to Oliver.
“I don’t care to know why you formed such a relationship with a bone cancer patient. It’s foolish. You’re a nurse, you know what to expect in these situations and yet you still allowed it to happen.” He said, but then his face turned sympathetic. “I’m giving you three weeks to grieve, cope, whatever you have to do to get over this. Three weeks.”
Annabelle might not have known her place in the world, but Oliver did. She was sent to save him from this cruel life and himself, just as his place was to do the same for her. He didn't need three weeks to grieve. Later that night he fancied a rope around his neck to cope and joined Annabelle in the clouds. He had said he wanted to be married to Annabelle and he meant it, whether living or behind golden gates.
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