I could tell it wasn’t working, you know?” I nodded. “It’s just bullshit, the whole thing,” I said.
“They’ll try something else when I get home. They’ve always got a new idea.” “Yeah,” I said, having been the experimental pincushion myself.
“I kind of conned you into believing you were falling in love with a healthy person,” he said.
I shrugged. “I’d have done the same to you.” “No, you wouldn’t’ve, but we can’t all be as awesome as you.”
He kissed me, then grimaced. “Does it hurt?” I asked. “No. Just.” He stared at the ceiling for a long time before saying,
“I like this world. I like drinking champagne. I like not smoking. I like the sound of Dutch people speaking Dutch.
And now . . I don’t even get a battle. I don’t get a fight.”
“You get to battle cancer,” I said. “That is your battle. And you’ll keep fighting,” I told him.
I hated it when people tried to build me up to prepare for battle, but I did it to him, anyway.
“You’ll... you’ll... live your best life today. This is your war now.”
I despised myself for the cheesy sentiment, but what else did I have?
“Some war,” he said dismissively. “What am I at war with? My cancer. And what is my cancer?
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