A DYING WISH BY MILLICENT COURTNEY WARE
INTRODUCTION Don t go near him ever again, she whispered, hoarsely into the receiver before disconnecting the call. I cannot say that I am at all surprised by this turn of events. In fact, I expected to hear those words about two months ago; right around the time that she was officially diagnosed with terminally-ill lymphatic cancer. The warning came as a direct result of my increased communication with her husband, Baldwin, after a chance meeting that occurred at a local park near Waussel Lake. Thus, where the tale began.
The moment is etched, vividly, in my mind. I played hooky from my job as a Print Ad Sales Executive for Havanna Tech. We had just closed out our second quarter revenue; and, I was in dire need of recharging my mental batteries. So, I decided to drive out to Waussel Lake to take in its exotic imagery; while taking a mid-morning run. It was a beautiful day! It was capped with an azure blue sky, wispywhite clouds and an affectionate golden sun; which actually kissed the sky. I parked my Jetta about a half mile away from the park and commenced the necessary stretches prior to my warm-up walk. Intentionally, I picked my white jersey knit tee and matching capri pants to work out in that day. It was one of three resolutions for the New Year; to start up an adequate workout routine in order to keep my overall health rating at an A+ level. Stepping out of my car, I decided to pause, momentarily, to inhale the fresh spring air. After several moments of deep inhalation, I proceeded to walk up the trail leading into the park so that I could begin my stretching exercises. I saw that I was not alone in my quest for a nature-filled workout because there were several small groups scattered in the general vicinity. I commenced my stretching exercises; along with clearing my mind of anything unrelated to my current task. Almost instantly, I reaped the benefit of a positive outlook. It was in that moment that I knew that today would be different. Continuing the feeling of exhilaration, I returned to the starting point of my jog. I finished my cool down exercises and headed toward my car. By this time, the lot had filled with even more vehicles; as two hours had passed since my arrival time. As I approached my vehicle, I noticed that there was a man standing near my car, as though examining it. Not knowing the reason for his sudden interest in my vehicle, I reached into my fanny pack for my keys, and, my mace. Hello, I spoke, tentatively, to the masculine stranger. Can I help you with something? Then, he turned and looked at me, making an attempt at a smile.
Hello! I think I dinged your car when I was getting out of mine. I m willing to pay for any damage that I might have caused your car, the stranger replied. Upon first assessment, I would say that he had already paid a price far greater than my imagination could fathom. His handsome face bore the harsh creases of worry; not a look befitting someone of his considerable good looks. I m sorry! Where are my manners? I m Baldwin, as he stuck out his hand to shake mine. It is nice to meet you, Baldwin. Unless you ve destroyed my property, I joked. My name is Kristy. Don t worry about the damage. On a day like this, a door ding is minimally catastrophic. But, he wouldn t let it go. Please, take my card. Call me if you change your mind and want to sue, he chuckled; amused at his own wit. I laughed, lightheartedly, at what was to be known as the beginning of it all. ``````````````````````````````````````````````````
Initially, Baldwin was very guarded with the pieces of himself that he shared with me. His apprehension was the shackle that prevented him from moving forward; pas his obvious pain. I called him the very next day, after our chance meeting; and, every day afterwards. His words held interdependence upon my presence in his life. I felt that he needed my energy, my spirit just to stay alive. Don t ask me how I know this; it was present, just as we were in that place in time. From the beginning, he told me that he was married; and that his wife was very sick. He also expressed an unwavering love and commitment to his current circumstance. I understood. But, it didn t end there. I encouraged Baldwin to meet me at Waussel Lake, twice a week, so that we could enjoy nature; as well as the nature that is human. It was on these occasions that he opened up to me; telling me all about his life and the various ways that he had pursued happiness; both personally and professionally. The more we talked; the more I wanted to speak. The more he smiled; the more I felt my own mouth upturn in agreement. The more he hurt; I wanted to absorb his pain, completely. After about two months of this continuous exchange, I began to notice that Baldwin s newfound happiness had begun to fade. Upon further inquiry, he told me, She s getting worse. Those were the only words that he spoke on that day. I continued to walk with him; upholding his silent vigil. I wanted him to know that I was with him. I wanted him to know that I was there. ``````````````````````````````````````````````````
The following meeting day was unlike any other. I stopped by The Winery Shoppe to pick up a vintage merlot for Baldwin. Just knowing the smile that would cross his lips made me feel exceptional. I even purchased a cute carrying case; just so that he would think of me each time that he used it. So, I decided to set the scene for his arrival. I spread a blanket, pulled out two wine glasses that I had taken from home and placed them on the cover. I made sure to pick the spot closest to the walkway, near the water, so that he would see me as soon as he arrived. Forty-five minutes later, I knew that something was wrong. I reached into my purse to check my phone for messages; of which there were none. I kept glancing at the parking lot; only to see my lone vehicle in its midst. Another fifteen minutes went by before I called his cell. Still no answer. Inside, I was frantic. He s never late! This was the only thought that resonated in my mind. Finally, I couldn t stand waiting anymore. I gathered the blanket, the glasses and the wine and headed toward the car. Tears of distress streamed down my face as I imagined the worst. The fact remained, Baldwin was never late. Not quite sure how I made it, I pulled into the driveway of my Tudor-style home. With few options in sight, I decided to make one last, desperate attempt to calm my mind. I leafed through my organizer and pulled out the card that Baldwin gave to me on the day that we first met. On the back, he had written his home and cell numbers; of which I had already memorized the latter. I stared at the card for an eternity before I did it. I grabbed the phone and dialed his home number; thumb poised over the end button as a last ditch effort to stop myself. The phone purred five times before I heard a voice. Panic-stricken, I couldn t find my voice; so, I said nothing. It was in that moment that she spoke to me