Larkin's Letters by Jax Jillian Read Free Book Online Page B

last thing I remember is awakening to the squeeze of her hand. As I turned my head to look over at her, I saw you standing above me, and at that moment, I thought for certain I had to be dreaming. But if this really was my dream, I certainly wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure. I remember I clenched my eyes shut for a couple of seconds to work the blurriness out, and as my vision cleared, I saw you mouth the word “hi” to me as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. As always, the perfection of your face made my heart skip a beat, and I couldn’t help but smile at you. “Hi,” I whispered back. Your face was tired, but still, nothing less than perfect.
    You touched my shoulder and guided me toward the other side of the recliner for three, and you climbed in next to me and wrapped your arm around my shoulders. “Sorry, I’m late,” you said.
    I buried the back of my head into your solid, muscular chest, and you rested your chin on the top of my head. I love that you are so much taller than me. My head always seems to fit perfectly underneath your chin every time we hug, and this time was no different. You came, Ryan. I can’t believe you came. Why are you so good to me?
    “Of course I came. I said I would,” you said to me.
    “How did you get the time off?”
    “Don’t worry about it, Larkin. Right now at this point in my life, you come first, and I will sacrifice anything to get to you when you need me, okay?” I could feel the vibration of your vocal chords through the back of my head as you spoke to me. You turned your face toward me and gently kissed me on the side of my head. I looked over at my mother, and as our eyes met, she gave me a smile and a nod, and at that moment, I knew she now understood the bond that you and I shared.

CHAPTER 5
     
    Letter #10 - September 15, 2011
     
    Dear Ryan,
    One down, five to go. That’s what I kept telling myself two days ago as I struggled to pick my legs up into the bed. Ryan, I was so sick, so exhausted. My fragile body didn’t want to work right. So this is what it’s like. I had always read about cancer and chemotherapy in my nursing books and in the pamphlets the doctors had given me, but they certainly didn’t give the disease nor its potential killer any justice. I decided at that exact moment—the fifth time I had gotten sick that day—that this opponent had garnered my full attention, my full respect. Growing up an athlete, I had always been a fierce competitor mainly due to my father always preaching to me about fearlessness and never backing down no matter how big the challenge was. But this challenge, this is bigger than not giving up the winning drive to the basket in the basketball championship, or not striking out when your team is down one run with two outs and the bases loaded in the bottom of the seventh. This is life or death. And I certainly want to live. It had only been twenty-four hours since the chemo treatment, and the last twelve hours had been as dreadful of a time as I had ever experienced. I can’t imagine that it can get any worse. I finally decided that lying on my back was a comfortable position, for the time being anyway. I looked around the room that had been my haven as a kid growing up. After I moved out, my parents turned it into a guest room, so there is nothing familiar about it anymore. Everything is new—a new bed, new furniture, even the hardwood floors are new. But it does give off a sense of homeliness with its cottage-type decor—a white dresser and two nightstands with chipped paint, giving them a rustic glow, a decorative brown aluminum star hanging on the wall just over the head of the bed, and a big open window giving way to the bright sunshine. But it’s the finishing touches of the multi-colored calla lilies that my father must have placed throughout the room when my mother and I were at the hospital that are my favorite. As you know, Ryan, my father is a hard man, but when it comes to me, he has