Forever

Lily sat propped up by pillows on her bed, her eyes fixed on the screen of her laptop. She had been surfing the web to pass time, waiting for Marcus to log on, but her mind had wandered and now she found herself staring at an article on the Leaning Tower of Pisa. She had always dreamed of traveling through Europe for at least a month, but there just never seemed to be enough time to break away from her busy schedule. And now she was out of time altogether.

Lily was dying.

The computer pinged, tearing her away from her thoughts. The IM screen popped up on top of the website. Marcus was online.

Marcus: Hi Lily

Lily: Hi Marcus. What's for lunch today?

Marcus: Ham and cheese on rye and a pickle

Lily: Your favorite

Marcus: How are you feeling today?

Lily: Not too bad. Tired

Marcus: Have you eaten anything today?

Lily: I had some yogurt this morning and managed to keep it down

Marcus: That's good. You know I worry about you keeping up your strength

Lily: I know

Marcus: It's just that I care about you so much

Lily: You're so sweet

Marcus: I know ;-)

Lily: I'm going to take a nap and let you eat your lunch

Marcus: OK. Call you tonight?

Lily: You better 

Marcus: Sweet dreams til then

Lily: I hope so

They both logged off nearly simultaneously.

Lily closed the laptop and set it aside. She rearranged the pillows and shifted her position so that she was lying down. Her head was pounding furiously and her body ached everywhere. Her morning oxycontin hadn't been very effective, so she took a Percocet before noon, so it was too soon to take another.

*****

Lily wrote and illustrated children's books. Her most popular work was a series about the misadventures of an adopted 20-pound, black tomcat named Shadow who frequently escaped from the house. Some were bestsellers; some did not make it onto the list, but the advances and royalties had allowed her to live a comfortable life in Miami.

Three years ago, Lily began having terrible headaches. They were so ferocious in their intensity that she could barely function. Her vision was blurry and she was nauseated most of the time. She ran through the entire gamut of over-the-counter pain relievers, but none of them even remotely eased the pain. Then she went through an array of narcotics, much to her doctor's disapproval, but they only provided her with mild relief. Finally, a series of tests began and, two months and thousands of dollars later, a tumor was found in her brain.

The surgeons were able to remove the tumor, but Lily still had to go through the chemo regimen. The side-effects were terrible and, at times, unbearable. Midway through her chemotherapy, her live-in boyfriend, Bob, decided that he needed to move out. He told her that he just couldn't bear to see her that way and that they would stay in touch and get back together when she was feeling better.

Lily knew this was a crock of shit, but she really couldn't blame Bob. He hadn't signed on for this. Besides, she had other things to worry about, such as vomiting 15 times a day and watching her long blonde hair falling out into her hands whenever she touched her head.

Truth be told, Lily was a very grounded woman. She didn't get upset over things she couldn't control and had little patience for the bullshit that life threw her way. So, she just watched the bullshit splatter wherever it landed and didn't even bother to clean it up. Some thought her cold; others felt she was overly stoic. Lily simply thought of herself as a realist. She didn't believe in love-at-first-sight. She felt strongly that to reach her goals in life, plain old-fashioned elbow-grease was essential. In Lily's world, success, of any kind, did not simply drop into one's lap; it must be earned.

Lily usually kept to herself. She was compelled to appear at various book-signings in Miami and the surrounding area, but she was basically a solitary person and not much of a romantic. During her 37 years on this earth, she had few friends and even fewer lovers. But this didn't bother her all that much. She had her writing and artwork. She had books to read, CDs to listen to, television for distraction and movies for entertainment. And she had her cat, Marnie, an eight-pound calico named after the classic Alfred Hitchcock film, and who was probably the true love of her life.

The one thing about Lily that was so unique that it sometimes puzzled even her was that she rarely cried. Tears did not come easily to her, even though sometimes she wished they would:

Like when the tumor returned four months ago. And it was inoperable.

*****

"Lily, are you awake? I've got your dinner ready."

Lily looked up at Marcia through bleary, sleep-murky eyes. "Oh, yes. Thank you."

Marcia was Lily's home-healthcare aide. She spent six hours each day in Lily's house, helping with sorting medications, checking vital signs, cooking, cleaning, sometimes helping Lily to bathe and even looking after Marnie when Lily wasn't up to it.

In addition to the inoperable tumor, the cancer was rapidly spreading throughout her body, attacking organs along its way. The doctors told her that if she resumed chemo, it could add another six or eight months to her life. If she didn't do anything at all, there was a 70 percent chance that she would die within three months - or less.

Lily started the chemo again. All the horrific side effects returned. And her hair began to fall out again between her fingers.

It was then that Lily decided to stop treatment. She told herself that since she only had such a short time left, she should be spending those last few months in the most comfortable setting she could find and live out the rest of her days enjoying the things that she loved most.

Lily knew that Marcia did not approve of the decision she had made three months ago, as did her few friends and colleagues, what was left of her family and especially, her oncologist in Miami.

She sold her two-story Miami beach house and moved across the state to Naples where she bought a small ranch house that was only about 15 minutes away from the ocean. She shaved her head. She bought a plasma television and a top-of-the line stereo system. She ordered books and CDs from Amazon.com. She rented movie after movie from Netflix.

She knew that there was more pain to come. But to Lily, this was more preferable than spending the time that remained with frequent hospital visits and puking her guts out every day, especially when there was no real guarantee that treatment would truly add any significant amount of time to her life.

*****

"Lily, are you awake?"

Startled out of her introspection, she looked up at Marcia again. "I'm sorry. I was a million miles away."

Marcia smiled. "That's okay. Do you want to eat here in bed or in the kitchen.?"

Lily contemplated this for a moment before deciding on the kitchen. She sat up in bed, her thin legs dangling over the edge of the mattress and took a deep breath before rising. She immediately felt a bit wobbly.

Marcia quickly reached out to steady her. "Do you want the walker?"

Lily sighed. "I suppose so." She was having a particularly weak day and, though she loathed that damn walker, she knew she had to use it to prevent a fall that could very easily shatter a bone or two.

Marcia had prepared a meal of home-made lasagna and garlic bread. Lily sat down at the table and scooped out a generous portion of lasagna onto her plate. She knew that meals like this were not evenly remotely good for her health, but in her new state of mind after cancer's death sentence was announced, she just didn't care. She was going to live life to its fullest; consequences be damned. Whether she ate a fat-filled plate of lasagna or just a banana, there was always the possibility that she'd puke up the food later or experience terrible diarrhea or even suffer extreme pain.

As Marcia added a glass of ice cubes and a 20-ounce bottle of Coke to the table, Lily breathed in deeply, savoring the smell of the delicious meal before her. Before picking up her fork, she turned to glance at the clock.

"You're already thinking about his call, aren't you?" Marcia asked with an expression of mild disapproval on her young face.

Lily filled her mouth with a forkful of lasagna and did not reply.

"I know it's not really my place, Lily, but I don't know why you're letting yourself fall in love with Marcus at a time like this, when . . . " Her voice trailed off.

"When I'm dying?" Lily replied, completing Marcia's sentence. She filled her fork with another mouthful and shook her head vehemently. "Don't be ridiculous, Marcia," she said while chewing. "I'm not in love with Marcus. He's just . . . a friend."

"If you say so," Marcia said with the tiniest of smiles tugging at her lips.

"I'm not in love." Lily protested. "I'm not!"

"I'm going to head home now if you don't need anything else," Marcia said, abandoning the topic. "Just put the pan in the fridge and leave the dishes in the sink. I'll take care of them in the morning."

"Thanks, Marcia. I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night."

"You too," Marcia called out over her shoulder after she had grabbed her purse and opened the back door.

Lily sat in silent contemplation after Marcia's departure. She usually turned on the radio or watched the small television in the kitchen while she ate, but tonight her thoughts were dominating her mind far too much to focus on any outside stimuli.

Am I really falling for Marcus?

she wondered.

He's so sweet and kind, and not hard on the eyes either.

She smiled.

*****

Lily was settled comfortably in bed once again, a bottle of spring water on her nightstand and "The Tudors" playing on the television. It was nearly 9:00. Marcus would be calling soon. He always called between 8:00 and 9:00. She tried to concentrate on the program, but her eyes kept wandering from the screen to the clock as she stroked Marnie's soft fur.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" She already knew who it was, but went through the formality of a salutation anyway.

"Hi, Lily."

Oh, I really do adore his accent,

she thought.

"Hi, Marcus. How was your day?"

He sighed into the phone. "Long."

"Oh. Well, if you're too tired to talk, we can -- "

He cut her off mid-sentence. "Don't be silly. Talking to you is the highlight of my day."

Lily could almost see a smile accompanying his words. "How's the weather up there?"

Marcus groaned. "Hot and humid. I hate summers in New York."

She chuckled. "Sounds like here."

"Sounds like Haiti," he replied.

Marcus was originally from Haiti, which accounted for his French accent.

"So

when

are you going to send me that picture?" he asked.

"Marcus, you know that I can't." This was a sore point between them.

"It's not that you can't," he retorted. "It's that you won't."

"And I've told you why. I look like hell. I don't want you to remember me this way."

"And you know that I don't care about that," he countered. "I just want to see your beautiful face."

Lily snorted. "Beautiful? Yeah, right."

"If you words and voice are anything like your face, you must look like a goddess."

She laughed. "A goddess? Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"Not for me, ma chere," Marcus said in a soft voice.

Lily laughed. "Now you're really pushing it. You're already charming enough. You don't need to try so hard."

It was Marcus' turn to laugh. "Okay, okay."

They continued to talk for almost an hour longer, discussing their favorite books, movies, music. It was somewhat of a redundant conversation. This was what they usually discussed. But the funny thing was that they never tired of it. They were still discovering more things that they had in common.

Eventually, Lily grew very tired.

Marcus, as usual, heard it in her voice. "You need to sleep now, Lily. I've been talking your ear off."

"No, you haven't." She had to tell him this every night. "I'm just feeling really . . . weak." She hated to admit this to anyone, even herself.

"I know." The tone of his voice took on a somber timbre. "Sleep well, ma chere. Jusqu'à demain."

Lily smiled. "Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight, Marcus."

"Goodnight, Lily."

She switched off the phone and took an oxycontin with a sip of water. Then, she turned off the bedside lamp, scooted her body downward, turned onto one side and buried her head in the pillows, preparing for sleep.

Usually, she left the television or stereo on to quash her thoughts and let the background noise lull her into slumber. But tonight, Lily sought out the quiet. She

wanted

to think for a bit -- to think about Marcus.

*****

They had met in a chat room -- of all things -- over a month ago. After essentially cutting herself off from the outside world, Lily had soon grown bored. Her mind wasn't clear enough to write and her hands were too shaky to draw. She sadly accepted the fact that there would be no more "Shadow" books. Her body of work was complete. Her legacy was already prepared.

Loneliness began to consume her, so she started to explore chat rooms -- something she would have never done years before. She started out searching out areas where topics such as writing, literature and movies were discussed. But she soon found that these sites were mostly filled with horny men and women of all ages trying to hook up for what she imagined to be cybersex.

After a week of this, Lily switched to a 30-something chat room, wondering if she might find someone her own age with whom she could interact. A few days later, she discovered Marcus. He was attracted to her sparse profile identifying her as an author living in Florida. After a few lines of virtual conversation, he asked her to join him in a private chat room. She had hesitated, suspecting that once they were alone, the sex chatter would soon raise its head. But it didn't.

Instead, they began to share some basic information about their lives. Lily learned that Marcus was 26 years old, a native of Haiti who had immigrated to the United States to attend Princeton. He graduated with a degree in Computer Science and eventually took a job as a software engineer for a large company in New York City. When she asked him why he was in a 30s chat room when he was only in his twenties, he told her that he preferred to chat with people older than he because he found those his own age to be immature. She had laughed at that as she could relate to this. She had felt the same way when she was his age.

Before long, Marcus sent a picture of himself to her. It revealed his face and torso. He was a light-skinned black man with a muscular build. But it was his dark brown eyes that really caught Lily's intention. Though she was only viewing them on a computer screen, they seemed to speak to her with an intense passion that could be interpreted in many different ways. And all of these possible ways intrigued her and drew her to him.

Their online discussions became more intimate in the sense that they began to share more of their true natures with one another. Marcus told her about his childhood in poverty-stricken Haiti and how he was still so grateful that his parents had sacrificed so much for him. They had scrimped and saved while raising him so that he could be schooled.

At one point, Lily revealed her condition to Marcus. She couldn't remember when or even how she had mustered up the gumption to do so when she didn't have even the slightest inkling of how he might respond.

His reaction to her "secret" was one of compassion, but not pity.

Lily was relieved. Pity was the reason that she had cut herself off from the people in her life. Once someone learned that she was dying, everything changed. They treated her differently, spoke to her differently and obviously bit their tongues during a conversation.

Marcus continued to treat her as he always had, although sometimes she thought she detected a bit of sadness in his written words.

A short time later, they made a mutual decision to speak on the phone instead of typing words back and forth to one another. It was then that Lily discovered Marcus' alluring French accent. She was immediately smitten, but told herself that she was reacting foolishly to nothing more than a pleasing voice.

When she did make a remark about his accent, he just laughed and offered to teach her in French. They began with some simple words and phrases. Lily had always wanted to learn another language, so she took in as much as she could and even began to feel proud of herself.

At first, they would chat on the phone for a few minutes two or three times a week. Then their talks grew longer and more frequent. Lily barely noticed the change. Somehow, things felt as they always had with Marcus. The only thing that she found annoying was that he kept pestering her to send a picture of herself to him. She repeatedly declined. But he was persistent, bringing up the topic at least once a week. Initially, it amused her. Then it began to annoy her. She wanted nothing more than to send him the image he sought, but she could not bring herself to photograph herself in her present state: disturbingly thin, dark circles under here once bright green eyes and a scarf wrapped around her head to hide her baldness.

She considered sending an old picture in which she appeared not only younger, but healthier and decisively more attractive. But that wouldn't be fair. Lily had no desire to deceive Marcus. She cared far too much for him to depict herself as she once was and would never be again.

*****

Lily shifted her legs restlessly beneath the sheets and turned over onto her other side. A meow of complaint came from the foot of the bed where Marnie always slept at night.

*How much I care for him . . . * Her own thought was suddenly bouncing around inside her mind. Could it really be possible that she was falling in love with him -- or was already in love with him? If she let her emotions take hold of her, she knew it to be true. But if she let her intelligence take control instead, she was able to rationalize how ludicrous the whole idea of romance was while the omega of her life was approaching so rapidly.

Eventually, Lily fell into a fitful slumber, peppered with dreams of warm kisses and hot flesh. Marcus' likeness, which she had long ago memorized, played on like a never-ending movie in her mind while she slept.

*****

The next day, Lily did not log onto the computer at lunchtime as she usually did. When she woke in the morning, she came to the conclusion that it was best if she began to ease herself away from her dependency on Marcus. After all, it was an exercise in futility and there was literally no future to be had with him, no matter how much she desired one. Yes, she was in love with him. She had already confessed this to herself while trying to pay attention to the morning news on television. But to embrace her emotions would be a mistake -- a horrible mistake that would only add to her pain.

She was drifting upon a flimsy cloud of somnolence, one hand mindlessly petting Marnie. Lily's ears were still able to hear Marcia's movements in other rooms.

The phone rang. She raised her head and propped her chin on her elbow to look at the clock: 3:09.

Who could this be?

She picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Lily, are you all right?"

It was Marcus, and he sounded very worried, almost distraught.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"I was so worried when you didn't show up for our lunch chat."

"Oh." Lily found herself at a loss for words. "I -- I -- I'm sorry," she stammered.

"What happened?"

"Um -- I guess I fell asleep," she lied.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Well," he began at last, "as long as you're okay."

"I am, Marcus. Don't worry."

"Okay, then."