“I won’t apologize. You fascinate me.”
How long had it been since she’d had a man’s attention like that? She’d been a naive college girl when she fell for Nathan’s lines. Yeah, she had schoolyard boyfriends, but there had never been anybody in the neighborhood who had kept her attention. Those days seemed like they belonged to someone else’s story, a story that she had read once and whose details were fuzzy and fading. She had committed to the wrong person too soon, and it seemed like the penalty for that would never lift. Just as she was getting out from under the daily grind of child rearing, cancer had struck.
When would her life ever be hers?
“I’d love to know what’s going on in that meeting of yours,” Maurice said, closing the distance between them.
She sank into him, and as if she’d been squeezed like a balloon, it all came spluttering out from the loose knot that was her lips. “I’m just wondering when it’ll end—all the hurdles—so I can stop running and breathe for myself for once.” Monique wanted to turn away from him, to get up and flee the room and peace that she found in his arms. “I’m so tired of doing it all.”
“So, don’t. Just rest.”
“It’s not that easy. My kids…” She couldn’t think of another responsibility that she had. Mama had been gone for years now. There were no siblings, no cousins other than Tommie, no grandparents, not even a dog that needed her to manage its life. She wasn’t a part of any organization or church. Outside of her kids, all she had was her Thriving with Cancer group.
“You told me yourself that your kids are solid people and have been taking care of you as much as you have taken care of them. Living their lives is their job now. You got them this far. It’s time to let them take over.”
Monique snorted a laugh against Maurice’s shoulder and looked up at him. His eyes met hers. In the dim, twinkling light, his hazel eyes seemed bottomless, and his skin like a toasty dream.
He licked his lips and turned his face away from her. “Your friend, um,” he said, “Chickie? What would she want you to do?”
“She’s dying.” The words came out flat. Monique had sat vigil often enough to understand what Dr. Tedrow didn’t say. Chickie would likely be gone in hours, not days.
Maurice went still. “I’m sorry.”
“I promised her I’d be there. When it happened.” Monique pulled away slightly. “She’s Jewish, and tradition says she has to be buried within twenty-four hours. Before that, we all take turns reading Psalms and making sure she’s not alone.”
“And she asked you?”
“Me, Eleanor, and Vanessa. We’re her girls. Her people. I talked to her brother earlier today. We promised her months ago. But now she’s changing the rules.” The sound she made was part laugh, part sob. “You know she was just texting me, telling me to stop moping and dance? Told me she’d haunt me if I came home early.”
Maurice chuckled. “I didn’t see you dancing.”
“Nope.” She shook her head slowly.
“And youhaveto go.”
“Yeah.”
There was a long silence. “That’s dope. What you’re doing is showing up, not running.”
Something shifted in her chest. “How do you always know the right things to say?”
He smiled. “I don’t. But I know what showing up looks like. And what running looks like.”
“But what about”—she gestured between them—“this?”
“This will be here. When you’re ready.” He took her hand. “I’m not going anywhere, Monique.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.” He squeezed her hand. “Because I love you. And love is patient, remember?”
She laughed through a sudden rush of tears. Monique took in a deep breath. “Sometimes, I think that if I let myself be happy, even for one night, it feels like I’m forgetting my responsibilities to her. Like I’m celebrating while she’s dying.”
“Or,” Maurice said gently, “you could be living because she can’t. Honoring her by choosing joy.” He gave her a soft smile and shrugged. “Sometimes focusing on others is what gets us through the day. That’s how I’ve survived all these years. Maybe that’s what you’ve been doing too.”
The tightness in her chest eased. “How do you live for yourself? What changed for you?”
He huffed a rueful laugh.