The Last Time Max Was In The Hospital

    The last time Max was in the hospital I brought him a different kind of flower everyday. The room was full of orchids and roses and lilies and daisies and snapdragons. He would blush every time I walked into his room and pull me into a weak hug when I was beside his bed. 

     I visited him every single day from the second visiting hours started until the nurses would kick me out.

      Sometimes we would talk about the future and how beautiful our family would be, how amazing tiny footsteps on our floor would sound. I would curl up next to him in the hospital bed and we would whisper quietly to each other. I remember every word of our last talks.

"You would look amazing holding a baby E." he brushed his hand over my cheek.

"Only if it looked like you," I kissed his hand and held it against my cheek.

"I love you," he whispered gazing lovingly into my eyes.

"I'll always love you," I hugged him tightly.

        Sometimes he would look expressionless and only talk about dying.

"Do you think it hurts to die?" he asked squeezing my hand tightly.

"I hope not, I imagine it's like falling asleep. My mom told me, when she was still around, that you close your eyes and sleep. But instead of waking up you go to be with the stars," I rubbed my thumbs under his eyes, wiping away tears.

"I'm scared," he croaked quietly, "Will you hold me when I die?" he bit his chapped lip anxiously.

"I'll be with you as long as I can," I promised, running an ice cube across his lips.

"I love you," he closed his eyes.

"I love you too baby, so much," I kissed his forehead and let my own tears fall as I felt him relax against me and even out his breathing as he fell asleep.

        I cried the whole damn drive home and when I laid in our bed I prayed to every god I could think of that Max would wake up. Frankie never knew why Max wasn't home or why he was living with Max's parents. I still stopped by to see him sometimes, but usually I went straight home and slept before going straight back to the hospital to be with Max.

       One day, when I got out of the shower before going back to see Max, I held a bottle of my pills and contemplated stopping taking them, but I wanted to be okay for Max.

      Max had AIDS. That's what killed him. He was dating a nineteen year old before we were friends. The guy never f*****g told him. Max told me, but I didn't care about him being sick. I wanted all of him. Call me stupid, call me romantic, call me suicidal. I love Max, he's my everything.