And He Told Me He Loved Me

A Story by Nicole

About a girl with cancer and a love confession

He told me he loved me, but I knew I wouldn’t live much longer. I had been diagnosed with cancer last summer, and I only had a month to live. I knew that I would spend my last month with him. He was my life and I was his.

The night he told me he loved me, I knew I had to confess. It was beautiful nonetheless.

Johnny picked me up at 8 to take me to the prom. But first, he said he had to make one stop. I sat silently while he pulled into the park. He got out of the car and quickly came around to my side of the car and opened my door. He took hold of my gloved hand and pulled me out of the car. Then, he closed the door behind me and started to pull me toward the trees.

When we got to what seemed like the biggest tree in the park, I saw a blanket. He pulled me towards it and we sat down next to each other. Johnny placed the hand he was still holding into his lap. Then looked up at me with a severe look and I was forced to look into his clear, blue eyes.

“Layla,” he said, putting a hand behind his back. He showed me a light pink rose and handed it to me. I took it, barely letting my eyes leave his. “I love you, Layla. I have since the first time I met you. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Johnny,” I began in a hoarse voice, tears crowding my eyes.

He shook his head and lightly placed his finger over my lips. “Believe me, Layla. Ever since I met you, I got this feeling that something great would happen. I knew that we were meant for each other even then. I don’t believe I could go on living without you by my side.”

I shook my head slowly, and by that time, my tears were falling freely.

“Layla, what’s wrong?” He looked seriously confused as he looked my face over.

“I…I’m sorry,” I stuttered as I stood. I began to run away, but Johnny caught my hand before I could get far.

He took my face in his hands and told me with a solemn expression and tone, “Layla, it’s okay if you don’t want to say you love me, too. I’ll wait for you.”

I shook my head again. He didn’t understand.

“That-that’s not it,” I finally croaked.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I-I can’t be with you.”

“Why not? Is it your father? Because we can talk to him. I’m sure that he’ll understand.”

“No,” I said in a near whisper. I looked up at him: Looked into his incredibly blue eyes.

“I…have cancer,” I told him. I couldn’t say it loud enough, so it came out as a hoarse whisper.

His eyes widened as he looked me up and down, as if he could spot the cancer. “When?” he asked. It was all he had to say and I understood him.

“About a month,” I told him.

He looked my face over. He looked everywhere then finally at my eyes. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” I asked, mesmerized by his eyes.

“Okay,” he said again.

He leaned in slowly and placed his lips on mine. I felt butterflies in my stomach as I closed my eyes and just let him kiss me. There, under the stars, under the full moon, and I never wanted him to stop. I wanted him to keep kissing me and to keep loving me.

After a long, emotional kiss, he finally pulled back, and handed me the rose that I had dropped. I took it and, holding it up to my nose, I inhaled the perfume deeply. This was one day I would NEVER forget.