Inside of Forever

One

I drove into the strip mall parking lot, went around to the furthest spot from the frontage of the businesses with the need to be as far from them as possible. I swung in between two spots next to a light post, stopped the car and threw it into park. Then, I immediately leaned forward, crossed my arms on the steering wheel and looked up into the evening sky above the one-story row of stores. I took a deep breath in, and it looked so ominous that when I exhaled the pink and blue hues mixed as if it was brewed from a witch’s cauldron. It felt as something was brewing just for me and so intense, I almost pulled right back out of there.

               Near the middle of the mall was Muriel’s Burger Bar. The name boasted big blue lettering on a white back lite board with smaller black lettering that spelled “Kosher”. Once inside I quickly found the culprit of my invite, Dan, my best friend. It was his girlfriend’s birthday. He rented the restaurant and was trying to impress her family and friends as she was Jewish. Neither he nor I was Jewish and when ever he came up with these schemes of sucking up, I was always invited. Dan must have loved her very much to go to such lengths. I did not see the point; just be yourself I always thought. If she loved you for you, that should be enough for them.

               Being the good friend though, I supported his nonsense and showed up. He was deep in conversation, so I just tapped him on the shoulder to let him know I arrived and nodded. He tapped my shoulder back and with excitement said, “John, mingle, I’ll be right with you.”

               Without responding I walked towards the back of the place, shook a few hands, nodded, and faked a smile here and there. I honestly had not remembered most of these people from prior events, but somehow, they remembered me. Exasperated, I finally perched myself on a stool at a corner table away from most of the bigger groups of people.

               An attractive waitress walked up. “Can I get you some drinks?”

             She was pleasant enough with a bright smile, dark eyes, and short red hair. I made every effort to not look at her cleavage as it was sticking out through the white low-cut blouse. I cleared my throat and spat out, “Gin and tonic, please.”

               The waitress wrote it down and stood there, for a moment I thought she didn’t hear me. I was about to repeat my order when a woman’s voice came from beside me and proclaimed, “I‘ll have what he’s having.”

               When I turned I was surprised to see a woman stood right beside me with her arms crossed on the table. I was certain she was not there when I sat. In the background I heard the waitress respond, “I will be right back with your drinks.” 

               Confused, I asked the woman, “I’m sorry, did I take your spot?”

               Confusion must have been evident on my face, as the woman sarcastically replied, “No, you were here first.” She pulled herself up on the other stool and continued, “You look like you don’t want to be here. I know I’m too tired to be here, so I thought you could buy me a drink and tell me why you’re not so happy to be here.”

               With a sneered smile she tilted her head sideways and attempted to have been cute and persuasive. She was cute too and appeared much younger than I. Her long brown hair hung straight, brown eyes to match that sparkled and what seemed to be a fit figure.

               This woman was more than likely to grab her drink and walk away, leaving me to pay. I have seen that game many times and I was not in the mood to play it. With no fight in my voice I answered, “Fine, I have no problem buying you a drink. And yes, I don’t want to be here… just want to be alone.”

               She was quick to respond and without sarcasm, “Well that sucks, I just thought you didn’t want to be here, I didn’t get the whole depressed thingy.”

             “What? No, I am not depressed! I just didn’t think I would be talking to anyone,” I complained.

               “Wait, what. You know this is a party… at a bar,” she raised her hands, giggled, and looked around the room as if to make me aware of where I was.

               It took a few moments when I realized that I smiled at her giggle. I laughed and admitted, “You’re right, I don’t why I said that.”

               She giggled even more, and it seemed so genuine and refreshing. Our eyes locked, a sudden rush of warmth filled my face, did I blush? Panic came over me for a moment, and I wanted to run, but I was compelled to stay. 

               I was, however, thankful the waitress interrupted the moment to place the drinks on the table. I wanted to give my head a shake to explain what was happening. I needed that interruption to gather my thoughts. We were silent until after the waitress left.

               Once the waitress left, I realized we did not even know each others name, and before I was able to introduce myself properly, she asked, “You married?”

              I replied, “Nope.”

               “Girlfriend?”

               “No.”

               “Boyfriend?’

               “Completely single.”

               “I see... well that’s good. I really wasn’t planning on meeting someone here to ask, but you seem nice – different, and not from this crowd. So, can I ask you something? I need some help,” she asked with a bit seriousness in her tone.
               
Perplexed at where this was going, I confirmed, “I am just here for my friend. Yeah, this is not my crowd.” I paused for a moment, then with curiosity and an abundance of caution I said, “Why not, go ahead and ask.”

               When she asked, I was completely caught off guard and could not believe what she wanted.

Two

There are certain expected experiences in our life that happen, more often they are associated by age. You go to school, graduate… maybe more school, start a career, a family, retire and die. I did not think by twenty-nine I would have experienced that of an old man or at least living with cancer. Most people think its a decease that hits us in our older years. My decision to let it run its course was almost a year; then that night at the birthday party, I believed I found a welcomed distraction.

         The distant conversations of the other partygoers seemed to become a faded white noise. My attention was all on her voice, I leaned forward and looked into her eyes.
         
         She took a deep breath in and when she let it out, she explained, “I’m going away to Israel in August, and I would like some company until then...”

         I readjusted myself on the stool, leaned even more forward and interrupted, “Company?”

         “Look I know this may be weird, but I’ll be gone for ten months, and I need someone to hang out with, be with, kind of no strings attached. You know what I mean?”

               Did I hear that correct? I mean, I was a bit flattered; if I thought I knew what she was asking, then not many people had this type of opportunity. Not that I was going to accept, but curious, so I asked, “What exactly are you asking?”

               “I know what it sounds like, a stranger coming at you with this proposal,” She reached out and took one of my hands in hers and continued, “What are you looking for?”

               Her hands were petite, smooth, and warm. When I looked from her hands and into her eyes, I swore my heart felt like a skipping stone erratically skimming across the water before it gave way into the depths of its body.

"What am I looking for?" No one asked me what I wanted in a very long time. It felt nice and there was this undeniable need to pursue this further.

        I became nervous and attempted to make light of the situation. I smiled and pretended to be at a loss, “I really do not know what you are asking me.”

        She looked at my hand, turned it over and caressed my palm, her fingertips sent tingles up my arm. It was almost as if it gave her some insight into my life.

        She looked back into my eyes and said, “I would like to be with someone for the following few months without attachment, no drama, just someone to be there for me. Is that something you may want as well?”

       I asked, “What is your name?”  
“Yana.”

          "I’m John, can I kiss you?”

               I had no idea what came over me to kiss her, but as soon as I heard her name that is all I wanted to do. She nodded and with no more words we leaned in and our lips lock for a moment and then released. We looked deeply into each other's eyes and then kissed again, this time our tongues found each other. The warmth of our kiss sent goosebumps all over and butterflies to my stomach, feelings I thought I would never experience again.

              We kept kissing for few more moments; euphoria took over, my heart pounded so hard I thought it would crack my chest bone. Flesh became warm as my blood rushed to my core sparking internal lightning as it traveled. I stopped suddenly and moved away; just a few inches, we just smiled, giggled, and looked at each other for a while. She was still holding my hand and gently squeezed as if it was a hug. 

        We met for coffee less than a week after the birthday party, Yana picked a busy café and arrived before me and was leaning on a blue pickup truck with nothing but a set of keys with a long key chain and a cell phone.

              After I parked, she walked onto the café patio and sat at an empty table for two. I sat across from her and noticed how different she looked from the party. She was dressed in grey sweatpants, a yellow crop top, and a blue sweat jacket. Her body was average, not as fit as perceived and shorter than she had previously appeared. It really did not matter to me; however, she was very young looking. She wore no makeup; face was round with puffy cheeks and her small oval eyes were exactly as I remembered; deep and pondering.

              It was obvious both of us was a bit nervous, but not awkward and after some small talk we seemed to relax. Yana went over protocols for spending time with each other. Not being too serious, but serious enough she started, “So, how do you want to go about this?”

              “I thought you had it all planned out,” I joked.

              “Well, you can’t tell anyone, I mean no one. I don’t want anyone to know I am doing this.”

              “I see, if that’s important, that doesn’t bother me.”

              She appeared relieved, “Good, do you live alone?”

              “Yes, I do. How about you?”

              She shrugged her head, “No, I still am with my family. Also, we just need to see each other a few times a month, I am not looking for all that partner B S.”

“Me either, I don’t want anything serious… very casual.”


She smiled, “Great! Let's see each other later this week. I have to go soon.”

We spoke for about ten more minutes and with a quick kiss on the cheek, Yana was gone. As I sat in my car about to leave the café, I began to cough, slow at first, then for around ten seconds uncontrollable and ended with coughed up liquid in my mouth. The hot bitter taste of what was to come.

Three

 
One week before Yana was leaving for her ten-month program in Israel, we had a breakthrough in our so called “proposal.” While driving her home after an evening together, she was fidgeting with all the buttons on the dash of the car as per usual. She was so cute the way she played around with everything. Most times, she was mature for her age and at other times she was needy, naïve, and fragile.
 
            At the beginning, we were determined not to talk about each other’s personal lives. However, as she became more comfortable with me, she spoke more of her family life. I, on the other hand, was not as revealing. This annoyed her to no end. When she asked anything too personal and I did not tell her, Yana would playfully say, “You hate me.” That turned out to be one of her favorite idioms.
 
            I didn’t want her to know too much about me, I did not want her to get close to me especially that my end was near. I always would answer her questions with questions and avoided it all together.
 
             While I drove, I was unable to keep my eyes off her, thinking about how much we have grown together. Our meetings became more than what they were meant to be. She of course noticed and asked softly, "What?"
 
             “It was very sexy tonight.”
 
             She squeezed my hand, “You always make sex, sexy.”
 
             She held my hand tight; as she always did, whether we walked, drove, or just cuddled. I tried in that moment to burn the feeling of her hand in mine so I would never forget.
 
             It became hard for me to breathe, and my chest felt like it was caving in. I held back the pain and swallowed the coughing that was inevitably surfacing.
 
             Yana leaned on the center console and cupped my hand with her other hand, “I love our time together, you are nice to me, and you always make sure I am satisfied. I always want to be with you. I want to just curl up inside your arms forever.”
 
             I buried the cough deep. “You really do?”
 
             “I do, I really love our time together, John…” She paused, looked at me with adoring eyes. “I love you.”
 
             As those words echoed from her sweet whispery voice, I forgot about all the pain and the wet cough. My heart raced, making me feel lightheaded and warm inside. I never thought I would hear those words ever again. It was obvious I was becoming emotional, and I worried I was not going to be able to reciprocate her feelings back, but I had already surrendered my heart to her long ago with our first kiss. Somehow, I managed to hold everything back and whisper, “I love you too, Yana.”
 
             She smiled, hugged my arm, and kissed my cheek. She stayed in that position and held me tight until we reached her street. I parked a few houses away from hers. As she stepped out of the vehicle, she stared at me for a few moments and then said, “I love you.”
 
             “Goodnight, Yana, I love you.”
 
I could never have imagined it was going to end up this way; she loved me, and I had felt she wanted to tell me for a long time. As I watched her walk to her home, my eyes became heavy, and I felt as if I could not breathe, I began coughing; I drove straight home.
 
The day before she was leaving for Israel, we spoke all day and texted all night. She stressed how she was going to miss me, and she did not know what she would do without me. I was in pain, my heart hurt, throat was dry, and stomach felt queasy when we spoke, and she assured me that we would speak every day and that I had no choice. We promised to see each the day she returned, and time would go by fast.
 
The day she left we texted on her ride to the airport, at the airport and until she had to turn her phone off on the plane. When she landed, she texted me right away and until she was at her housing for her program. We also facetimed each other and was very emotional on how we missed one another.
 
Into the third week of her program is when it all changed. Yana became less interactive, only texted and was reluctant to share her day with me.
 
I texted, “Hi, how was you day today?”
 
            There was a seven-hour time difference between us, so she did not always respond right away, but that night she did.
 
“I’m good. How are you?”
 
“I’m good, I am so glad to text live to you!”
 
“I don’t have a lot of time, it’s late and I am tired.”
 
“Can we Facetime?”
 
“No,” Yana answered quick and cold
 
She never refused to Facetime. “Why not?”
 
"I just can’t, John. It’s rude when my friends are around, and they are around now.”
 
“Okay, so just go to your room. I don’t understand what’s going on?”
 
“Nothing, I am in my room, and I find it rude when people do it to me, so I am not going to do it.”
 
"Since when? You are acting strange what’s going on?”
 
“Nothing.” I knew she lied.
 
“You found someone?” I was neither naïve nor stupid.
 
“Maybe… I don’t know…”
 
I knew that someone was in her room. “I don’t understand, you said you love me?”
 
“I do.”
 
“Then what is this? You weren’t going to see anyone over there?”
 
“I know… but things change, I don’t know how long I will be with him or if it will even last after I come home. You knew this was supposed to end, you knew someday I would date someone closer to my own age and you’re not Jewish!”
 
            As I read her text I felt my heart crack, streams of blood poured out drowning my lungs and it became impossible to breathe. I fell to my knees at my bedside and texted, “What are you saying? You said you love me, you sad we will be together when you get back?”
 
            “I cannot make any promises, but if I keep talking to you it’s hard for me to be with him.”
 
My reality was once again confirmed by the coldness of my existence. Why was I given a glimpse of any hope when it would end this way? I texted my final text to Yana, “If that is what you need from me, then fine. I won’t text you anymore, but know I am here for you always.”
 
I was nauseous, fatigued and a quick but violent cough hit me so hard I spat across the room and the liquid sprayed from the depths of my broken innards up the wall. The bright ruby blood dripped down the cream-colored walls as a final reminder of why I was unable to have anything, let alone love.
 
I fell on my side; breathing was labored, chest on fire and I could taste my broken heart as it drizzled out and down the side of my neck. Maybe I should have told her I was dying, but I did not want her pity, I wanted her to just love me. I felt myself fading and all I saw was Yana standing at my car, staring at me. Then it was dark.
 
I woke up in what I figured to be a hospital; Dan was there. I had no idea what time or day it was, and I could not speak. I was on a ventilator, with an intravenous in one arm; I was hooked up to a heart monitor. I heard my heart rate; it was slow and every time I breathed in it was very painful.
 
Dan came to my side, had tears in his eyes and held my hand, “Hey John, you are going to be okay.”
 
He lied; I was dying, and we both knew long ago this was to come. I was the one who refused treatment and wanted to let it take its course.
 
I was tired of living for everyone else except me. Sure, do chemo, it brought me within an inch of life, only to claw back and then do it again. I was terminal and that was not living. I chose to live or at least to die on my own terms. I slipped into unconsciousness again.
 
When I woke up it was dark, I could hear but not see, I could not move. I heard Dan’s voice speaking to someone, but could not make out the words. I felt cold and was barely breathing, I could still hear the heart rate monitor and it was very slow.
 
I felt a warm, but rough hand on my arm and felt someone breathing in my ear, then I heard, “Hang in there bro.”
 
It was Dan, I was sure of that. Giving me some type of hope? As if there was a cure for my terminal cancer.
 
Yana was the only hope I had in years and now she was gone. She broke my heart, and I still felt the crack in it, but I also loved her so much. I felt a wet stream run down my cheek and around my ear. I let out a cry so loud I thought the all the nurses and doctors would come running. Nothing, no one heard. I was in a coma; the doctors said this would how it would be, and this was near the end for me.
 
I wasted my time, a year of letting it run its course and now no one will ever know that I loved someone, that I loved Yana. I told no one, she told no one and she did not even know I was dying. I thought I was strong and kept people away, thought it would be better. I was wrong. I left consciousness again.
 
I do not how long I kept going in and out, days... weeks. I was scared, lonely and tired, it became hard to remember Yana. Our moments together became more thoughts than memories.
 
Dan always seemed to be there, I heard him in my ear again, he spoke of our friendship and gentle goodbyes.
 
The heart monitor beeped very slow at this point and was my only anchor to reality. Each time I fell into darkness I felt colder and was uncertain I would wake again.
 
I woke to the sound of many voices more than I ever heard, then it went silent. My mind was in a sapphire rainbow in the clouds and then all at once it became quite clear.
 
A hand was in mine, a petite, smooth warm beautiful hand. I recognized the feeling of that hand. It was her; she was there. I heard my heart race on the monitor, I felt pain and joy in my core all at the same time. Her breathe was hot against my ear, in her sweet, sweet whisper, Yana promised, “I ‘m here, john. I love you… always... I will meet you inside of forever.”
 
With those words and her hand in mine I felt free. All my memories came at me at once and all the love seemed to fill my heart and seal the crack. I was not scared or lonely anymore and as I fell back into darkness, I heard the solid tone of the heart monitor.