Forbidden Love

“I have to see her.” I looked up from the floor to the door. “How is she?” It was probably the world’s stupidest question, but I needed somebody to tell me how she was.

“She’s had a rough day. Dylan had a turn for the worst this morning,” Scarlett interjected. “But she’s strong, Jude.” Scarlett didn’t know how strong Haven really was, but I did, and I knew even the strongest part of the woman I loved couldn’t withstand losing the man she loved.

“Now that we know, we made sure to tell her we can help anyway possible, but I think the best thing for her is to let her have whatever time she’s got left with him and just be there when she needs us.” Scarlett sighed heavily and rubbed her temples. “And she will need us.”

Haven

“That’s not funny, Dyl.” I pouted, emotions bubbling to the surface again.

“What?” He gave me look of confusion. “It’s my funeral. I should be able to have whatever I want.” He smiled. It was still dazzling, despite him being bedridden and weak.

“Yeah, but this is how people will remember you, Dyl. I couldn’t stand there and watch people make a mockery of your life.” I was whining now, my frustration showing at his complete nonchalance over the entire situation.

“Hey, hey, I’m not dead yet, Haven. I just want to have some fun. I want people to remember the funny parts of me, the parts that made them laugh, made you laugh.” He tipped his chin down to catch my eyes. “Look at me, sugar. It’s no big deal. Really.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Fine!” I exclaimed. “You want stupid yo momma jokes, people to wear dumb mocking t-shirts, rubber ducks and a clown car, fine!” I turned away, tears stinging my eyes. I couldn’t believe that would be my last memory of Dylan. But if he wanted it, I would do what I could to honor him.

I wiped my face, and turned back toward him, and lay in the bed beside his sickly body. “Okay, let’s start planning these jokes,” I said through a sad smile.

“That’s my girl.” He clasped my pinky in his. “How about…Yo momma so fat, her belt size is Equator.”

I couldn’t help it. I barked out a laugh. “You are too much, Dylan Highsmith.” The laughter spread from my cheeks to my eyes, the crinkles at the corners expressing my glee at his silly jesting.

“Maybe, but I need to do it, sugar. Hey, laughter is the best medicine, right?” He raised his frail hand and pushed the hair from my face.

“You want to do this? Plan your funeral?” I questioned. I was torn, I didn’t want him to have to do anything alone, but I didn’t want to think about him lying in a casket in the ground. Ridiculous ducks that would morbidly lay all around him, their cheerful eyes and open beaks forever in a silent smile. I cringed. There wasn’t enough things in the world that could show how much I loved this man, least of all rubber duckies.

“Like I said, sugar, I want people to think of me and smile, even if it was because of my funeral. I’d like your help, if you want to help me.” He pushed himself up to a sitting position on our bed. I rushed over to his side and propped some extra pillows up behind his head. There was a nurse who came daily now, the hospital no longer able to do anything but make him comfortable. Truth was, he’d be more comfortable at home, in our bed, with me. I wanted every second with him, and with him living his last days at home, I had that opportunity.

When I’d come home to shower and change while Dylan was still in the hospital, I’d called Teeny to get everyone over here. I’d needed their help in setting my apartment up for Dylan. They’d run around picking up anything and everything we could think of that would make him more comfortable, new fluffy pillows, a side table on wheels like the hospitals had, an ice machine and a new TV for the bedroom. Mace even picked up a game console so Dylan wouldn’t be bored lying in bed listening to me talk all day. They’d also given me paid leave from work so I could afford to stay home from work and take care of him.

Dylan grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes. “Sugar, if you don’t want to, it’s okay. I won’t be hurt.”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s…well. I don’t know how I can say this.” I sat on the bed beside him, not letting go of his hand for a second. “Nothing is going to be good enough. And I just can’t wrap my head around your requests…a clown car, really?” My face scrunched in disappointment.

He laughed feebly. “Oh, sugar.” And with that, he closed his eyes.

I sighed and tumbled his words over in my mind. If he wanted my help, I would help in any way I could. I would honor him, the man who breezed into my life and stole my heart.

Not able to just sit, idle hands being my worst enemy, I set out working on Dylan's requests. Starting from the beginning, I figured I would check into funeral homes first, check for availability. After all, people planned to die every day, right?

While Dylan slept, I scrolled through the yellow pages in my phone. “Let’s see, let’s see…” I browsed the listings for local funeral homes. “Bissel Funeral Home, Winkenhoffer, Dignity…where do people come up with these names?” I mused aloud. They were almost as bad as his wishes. I narrowed my search. Maybe he wanted to be cremated?

What about a burial? Would that be better? There was only one cemetery…

“Ugh, this is awful.” I tossed my phone on the table and went to grab a pen and paper. I needed to make a list. A list of things that needed to be taken care of. I didn’t want Dylan to worry about anything. All I wanted him to do was focus on feeling better so I could postpone my goodbyes.