Not long after we first got together, he spiked a fever of 103. When the doctor stepped out to draw blood, he buried his face against me and cried.
He said he'd looked it up online and was scared it might be leukemia.
Voice cracking, he said he wasn't done living yet, but he needed to get his affairs in order.
His forty thousand in savings, he said. Half to his parents, half to me.
He said if it came back positive, I shouldn't wait for him.
I stroked his hair and wiped his tears, laughing at him for acting like a little kid.
But privately I'd thought to myself:
A man this afraid of death, willing to swear an oath like that, would never break it.
But a lifetime hadn't even come close to passing. Not even close. And he'd already lied to me.
Eugene was deeply superstitious. Whoever made him willing to gamble his life on a lie had to matter to him a great deal.
My phone buzzed.
I hesitated, then picked up.
Maybe there's an explanation. Maybe.
"You messaged Lucy?!"
Eugene's voice was low, barely held together, but the anger bled right through.
"Yeah."
"What the hell was that about?"
"You said her mother-in-law died. I sent a gift."
"Is there a problem with that?"
Two seconds of silence on the other end.