me…after you passed out.”
“So you brought me here because you knew I’m gonna die?”
“Stacia,” he said trying to hold onto me, “I would have brought you anyway.”
I pushed him away and began to cry. How naïve could I have been?
Every negative thought and emotion I had been avoiding so skillfully came swarming back into my gut. The firewall between my fantasy life and my sad truth had been breached. A sudden pain spread across my chest as though I could feel my heart actually breaking. It was the first time I had cried since my appointment with Jerry, maybe because, for the first time, I actually had something to lose. It made my fate seem infinitely more real.
“Stacia, you are an incredibly beautiful woman who has so much to offer this world. I hate to see you just give up.”
“You don’t understand!” I protested. “I know exactly what’s in store for me, and the outcome will be the same whether I get treatment or not. The only difference is that I can go out on my terms.”
“I’ll help you,” Wilbur said sincerely, placing the palm of his hand on my cheek and pushing up his thumb to wipe a tear from my eye.
Part of me wanted to run as fast as I could to get away from him, but there was nowhere to go. The other part wanted to fall into his arms and let him take care of me, but that was not an option either. If I did that, it would mean I had learned nothing from my mistakes and I would die with more regret than I’d started with.
“Wilbur,” I said, pulling his hand away from my face, “I have to be someone different than I’ve been.”
Part 2
Anger
CHAPTER 10
Anger will make you do crazy things. People yell and scream, punch, even kill. I had spent so many years being silently resentful, but suddenly I was enraged. I had nothing to logically channel my anger toward. Usually, I would figure out a way to let off enough steam to forestall the inevitable explosion. Until now. Instead, I stewed internally, almost to the point of boiling over.
I stormed into my tent, stripped off the borrowed regalia, and cast it aside. Make-believe time was over. I violently unbraided my hair, slammed my head down on the pillow, and wrapped the pillow around my head in a childish and vain attempt to block any more thoughts from entering. There I was again, alone with my sad, infuriating truth. There was no need to worry about what crazy dreams might be awaiting me that night, because I didn’t sleep a wink.
I kept thinking about Wilbur, who was sleeping in the adjacent tent, and yearning to return to that blissful realm of denial. I imagined what the night may have been like if he hadn’t said those words—how we could have made love under the stars. It was just like one of my ridiculous romance novels: pure fiction.
I felt the fury rise through my chest, thinking about how a bastard like Evan would get to live, and I wouldn’t. Karma is supposed to take care of these things. The universe is supposed to right these wrongs. Why did the universe decide that I was the wrong that needed righting?
However , even though Evan was a bastard to me, he did contribute to the world at large. He showed up at his law practice every day and did something that mattered. I couldn’t say the same. Maybe I was arrogant to think that the cosmic universe was after me when the simple truth was that the universe didn’t even notice me. Why would my death matter? And to whom?
I thought about the old man and how he stared through me with those coal-black eyes. My insomnia was derived partially out of fear that he would infect my dreams again. And my mother. Why had I envisioned her there? I realized I must have been closer than I thought to joining her.
When I emerged from the tent at dawn, I found Wilbur meditating by the water. I’d intended to wait patiently for him to finish, but he must have sensed my angry presence and turned toward me.
“ I need to leave,” I demanded.
“Where will you
“So you brought me here because you knew I’m gonna die?”
“Stacia,” he said trying to hold onto me, “I would have brought you anyway.”
I pushed him away and began to cry. How naïve could I have been?
Every negative thought and emotion I had been avoiding so skillfully came swarming back into my gut. The firewall between my fantasy life and my sad truth had been breached. A sudden pain spread across my chest as though I could feel my heart actually breaking. It was the first time I had cried since my appointment with Jerry, maybe because, for the first time, I actually had something to lose. It made my fate seem infinitely more real.
“Stacia, you are an incredibly beautiful woman who has so much to offer this world. I hate to see you just give up.”
“You don’t understand!” I protested. “I know exactly what’s in store for me, and the outcome will be the same whether I get treatment or not. The only difference is that I can go out on my terms.”
“I’ll help you,” Wilbur said sincerely, placing the palm of his hand on my cheek and pushing up his thumb to wipe a tear from my eye.
Part of me wanted to run as fast as I could to get away from him, but there was nowhere to go. The other part wanted to fall into his arms and let him take care of me, but that was not an option either. If I did that, it would mean I had learned nothing from my mistakes and I would die with more regret than I’d started with.
“Wilbur,” I said, pulling his hand away from my face, “I have to be someone different than I’ve been.”
Part 2
Anger
CHAPTER 10
Anger will make you do crazy things. People yell and scream, punch, even kill. I had spent so many years being silently resentful, but suddenly I was enraged. I had nothing to logically channel my anger toward. Usually, I would figure out a way to let off enough steam to forestall the inevitable explosion. Until now. Instead, I stewed internally, almost to the point of boiling over.
I stormed into my tent, stripped off the borrowed regalia, and cast it aside. Make-believe time was over. I violently unbraided my hair, slammed my head down on the pillow, and wrapped the pillow around my head in a childish and vain attempt to block any more thoughts from entering. There I was again, alone with my sad, infuriating truth. There was no need to worry about what crazy dreams might be awaiting me that night, because I didn’t sleep a wink.
I kept thinking about Wilbur, who was sleeping in the adjacent tent, and yearning to return to that blissful realm of denial. I imagined what the night may have been like if he hadn’t said those words—how we could have made love under the stars. It was just like one of my ridiculous romance novels: pure fiction.
I felt the fury rise through my chest, thinking about how a bastard like Evan would get to live, and I wouldn’t. Karma is supposed to take care of these things. The universe is supposed to right these wrongs. Why did the universe decide that I was the wrong that needed righting?
However , even though Evan was a bastard to me, he did contribute to the world at large. He showed up at his law practice every day and did something that mattered. I couldn’t say the same. Maybe I was arrogant to think that the cosmic universe was after me when the simple truth was that the universe didn’t even notice me. Why would my death matter? And to whom?
I thought about the old man and how he stared through me with those coal-black eyes. My insomnia was derived partially out of fear that he would infect my dreams again. And my mother. Why had I envisioned her there? I realized I must have been closer than I thought to joining her.
When I emerged from the tent at dawn, I found Wilbur meditating by the water. I’d intended to wait patiently for him to finish, but he must have sensed my angry presence and turned toward me.
“ I need to leave,” I demanded.
“Where will you
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