- 9.
I slept more and more.
Everyone knew I was dying.
Only Ethan still held onto hope.
He stayed by my side, whispering about our
L
future.
He would have another child with me when I
recovered.
But I didn’t respond.
He knew I was leaving.
But he stubbornly tried to keep me.
Near our anniversary, he disappeared.
He returned with a rosary.
He was weak, coughing up blood with every
step.
He reached my bedside and put the rosary on
my hand.
“Rachel, I heard bone rosaries are powerful.”
“So I used my ribs to make this one.”
“I’m weak, I haven’t been here much, forgive
me!”
He smiled, his mouth bloody.
But I didn’t wake up.
He didn’t give up.
He thought he wasn’t devout enough.
<
He disappeared more often.
He became obsessed.
He used his shoulder blades, leg bones,
everything to make rosaries.
Finally, he couldn’t walk.
People carried him back to the hospital.
He wept, begging,
“Why isn’t it working? Rachel, wake up!”
“What do I do? Tell me, what do I do to get
you back!”
Only my faint breathing answered.
The first snow fell, and I woke up.
Ethan cried with joy, calling for a doctor.
The doctor shook his head; it was only a last
breath.
Ethan refused to believe him, demanding
treatment.
He was considered insane.
Everyone left the room.
I couldn’t speak.
<
Ethan brought pen and paper.
I hesitated, then wrote:
“I saw Grace.”
He leaned close, asking what Grace said.
I wrote:
“She said to let me go, stop torturing me!”
Ethan didn’t insist.
He smiled, nodding.
“Okay, I’ll let you go.”
“Rachel, I owe you, I’ll repay you in the next
life!”
I shook my head, writing:
“Ethan, in the next life, and the one after
that, let’s never meet again!”
His tears fell, he nodded.
I smiled and closed my eyes.
Ethan stared at me, tears in his eyes.
He leaned against me.
The paper fell, carried away by the wind.
Just like our past, irretrievable.
