The Proposal

Quick preface: I participated in Instagram’s Inktober 2019 Writers Edition. Every day I wrote a fifty word story using the official prompt word. I chose to string my stories together and created this 1,550 story. The highlighted words are each day’s prompt word.

The Proposal

He is down on one knee with a box in his hand. It’s a ring. Blue flecks dance along the white damask tablecloth as candlelight shimmers through the stone.

This is real. He is serious.

My stomach drops. Heat shoots up my neck. It’s too fast. I can’t say yes.

He holds up the ring. “Will you marry me?”

His trusting smile kills me. It’s so sincere.

Mindless words spill out my lips. “I didn’t expect… I’m not ready for marriage. What about my education?”

He pales. His mouth turns down.

It hurts, but I know it’s better this way.

He blinks. “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” I reply.

He moves his hand closer to me. The gorgeous ring wobbles in his fingers, fingers that hold my heart.

I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized.

“Please, marry me.”

I’m tempted, and not because of the bait he proffers in his hand.

“I know it’s quick, but I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

His eyes hold mine, piercing my defenses. Helpless, I freeze.

“I want you to get your degree. I want you to be happy, to be you.”

That’s the problem. I’m no longer the girl he thinks he knows.

Pressure to reveal my secret builds in me. I can feel the words rising from my heart. They are on the tip of my tongue. My mouth opens.

Snap!

My brain reels my heart back and binds it in familiar cold chains. The refrain, “He won’t understand” reverberates through me.

I don’t want to hurt him.

I don’t want to lose him.

What can I do? What can I say?

My control cracks at the patience in his eyes.

My voice sounds husky when I say, “I want to say yes, but everything’s happening too fast. I can’t handle it.”

“What can I do to change your mind?”

My gaze falls to my lap to hide welling tears. I shake my head.

He covers my fingers with his warm hand. “You enchanted me the first time I saw you. Do you remember?”

I look up. “Of course, I remember.”

I remember everything like it was yesterday. My brain rewinds, and I relive that day.

I go to the hospital to visit my fellow cancer patient, but I arrive too late.

I hide in the hospital’s chapel to let my tears fall. Sobs shake my frail body. I survive. She doesn’t.

He discovers me, my tears spent, huddled in the back row. Silent and composed, he sits beside me.

I sniffle, a startling sound after the quiet.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even look at me. He swings the box of tissues in his hand toward me.

I take four.

“Sometimes,” he says, “we just need a person to be there.”

I wipe my nose.

“Tonight, I am here.”

For lack of anything better, I nod.

He reaches over and smooths open my fist to slide his fingers through mine, in a pattern of strength relieving weak.

That’s our beginning.

There’s a light in his eye that tells me he’s remembering too.

I still don’t understand why he thought my swollen eyes and red nose were enchanting, but I don’t want to think about that right now.

Instead I trace the damask patterns. It reminds me of swirling blustery snow.

He interrupts my thoughts. “I’m not a dragon, you know. I don’t breathe fire. I just want to understand why.”

The why is too painful to contemplate. The wound is too fresh. I’m barely keeping myself together.

I can’t manage his grief on top of my own. It’s too hard.

The dinner has turned to ash in my stomach. I am as empty as the charred skeleton of a burnt house. There is nothing beyond the doctor’s echoing voice.

“We found a spot during your scan.”

Everything I was – everything I want to be – seared away in one horrible instant.

He covers my restless hand while he waits for me to speak. The calm that surrounds him draws me in. It has from the beginning.

“Do you remember the overgrown garden at my mom’s,” I ask.

He nods.

“It’s just like me. I let optimism and joy crowd out caution.”

I know he doesn’t understand when his eyebrows draw together.

“Joy and optimism are good things,” he says. “They make life rich and full. Every story, every legend tells us that.”

“Stories and legends aren’t real. Not everybody gets their happy ending.” My voice cracks.

“Everyone deserves a little happiness.”

“Which is why I can’t say yes.” I lose control. I sound wild as I continue. “I will only bring you pain in the long run.”

His eyes crinkle up. “What could be more painful than you walking away now?”

“My death.”

It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud.

I hold up my hand, silencing him. I have to finish. “I won’t be very ornamental in a month or two.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You think I’m proposing because I want arm candy?”

My gaze falls as he gawks at me.

“If I wanted candy, I would buy M&Ms.”

My cheeks are hot. I toy with my fork as I try not to look at the ring on the table. “It’s not just the way I will look.”

“I don’t care if you look misfit for life. I love you. I want to be with you, no matter what.”

“I’m proposing, knowing the vows say in sickness or in health. I don’t care if sickness means your arm is in a sling or you’re undergoing chemo. I want to be there for it all.”

He reaches for the ring and hold it up. “I mean for better or worse.”

My heart sings at the love blazing in his eyes. I ache to throw caution to the wind and say yes, but I know I can’t. I have to tread carefully.

“I believe you mean it, and I love you for it. But I can’t saddle you with this … issue.”

“You are more than your health. You are more precious than the rarest treasure. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.” He covers my hand with his.

“That’s the real problem.” My voice wobbles. “I won’t be here for the rest of your life.”

He goes paler than a ghost. His hand tightens painfully on mine. “You said they found a spot. Where is it?”

I can’t look at him as I answer. I don’t want to see his pain or his pity. I focus on my water glass.

“It is on my pancreas.”

He doesn’t say a word. His grip on my hand loosens.

It’s quiet for so long that I wonder if time stopped. Will someone find us frozen here and wonder at our ancient history?

I look up.

His eyes are squeezed tight. A tear courses down his cheek. Then another.

I am dizzy with regret. I wanted to disappear quietly, to spare him this pain.

He looks broken, shattered. I hate that I caused it. I’d do anything to take it back.

I wish I was back in the doctor’s office. How I wish the scan results came back different.

The waiter intrudes as he brings the tasty chocolate cheesecake we ordered before this misery descended. He sets it on the table and flees.

I don’t want the dessert. I don’t want the pain. I don’t want the guilt. I don’t want any of it.

Except him. I want him.

His eyes are dark with emotion when he opens them. He still doesn’t say anything as he watches me.

It scares me that I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s been an open book since that first night, but now I can’t read him.

I bite my lip and wait.

“I won’t sugarcoat it,” he says. “This isn’t what I hoped for tonight.”

My heart sinks as I nod. I know what he’s about to do, and I can’t really blame him. “It’s probably better this way.”

“What way?”

“To end it. Isn’t that what you are going to say?”

He takes a deep breath. He shakes his head no.

My heart is on a roller coaster ride. It pounds harder as his smile grows.

“That’s not it. I wanted to spend the rest of my life making you happy, but I’ll make the rest of your life happy instead.”

He gets back down on one knee and holds up the ring. “For better or worse, in sickness or health, I want you for my wife.”

My insides flutter like they did when I injured my thumb in a skiing accident, but this time the feeling is so much better.

My heart is full. I smile and nod.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, I will marry you!”

“I don’t want a long engagement.” His voice catches on the words as he slips the ring on my finger.

I can’t believe what I am about to say. “I’m free next weekend.”

He bounces to his feet. His jubilant face matches mine. With gentle hands he pulls me to my feet.

Ripe with emotion, I wrap my arms around his neck.

I don’t know how much time I have left, but I am grateful I will spend all of it with him.