She was diagnosed on a Friday. I remember, I was there. One beer too deep I stumbled into the kitchen to find her sitting on the dirty linoleum floor. Sarah held her as she sobbed, her phone lay on the ground a few feet away next to a pile of scattered solo cups. She didn't look up at me, entirely beside myself. I tilted my head at Sarah, concerned.

"The doctor called," she said, straining to whisper over the sounds of Caroline's choking sobs and the music blasting in the other room. "He said she'll probably be fine, but it's..." She hesitated. "The C-word."

"It's in my esophagus," Caroline choked out.

I exhaled. "Damn."

I struggled to find the right words; poison clouded my mind. I stumbled over and sat down next to her.

"Rick," Sarah said with a frown, "I think she'd rather be alone right now."

"No, no..." Caroline started, and took a few deep breaths. "I just... Just didn't want you to see me like this." She wiped at her eyes.

I frowned, fighting through the spins. If anybody was invincible it should have been Caroline. She was the very picture of health; she didn't even drink. I thought of the disease inside of her, pictured it taking her blonde curls... Her beautiful heart... I shook my head violently.

"Dammit Caroline, you better pull yourself together," I said. Sarah's eyes widened in horror. Caroline looked up at me. "...We have a date tomorrow night, remember?" I said, smiling. I put a hand on her shoulder. "We can put it off if you want," I added quietly.

Caroline sobbed again, but this time it broke into a big sobbing laugh. She leaned over and put her head on my shoulder, and I drew her close.

"He said..." She hesitated. "He said I'll have to start chemo on Sunday." She sniffed. "Would you still like me if I was bald?"

I shrugged. "Charlize Theron was hot in Mad Max, she didn't have much hair."

Sarah made a noise of disgust and stood. "Caroline, are you gonna be okay?" She said.

Caroline was silent for a second, but she hugged me a little tighter. "Yeah... Yeah, I think I am."

The next night I pulled on a nice shirt, I combed my hair, and I brushed my teeth for a whole minute before I walked down the street to Blainey's and sat at the bar. I checked my watch; she was already fifteen minutes late. I ordered a second whiskey. Another fifteen minutes later I ordered a third, and then frowned to myself. On second thought I made it a boilermaker, but when I realized that I didn't want to be the kind of person who drank boilermakers alone at the bar I resolved to leave as soon as I finished. I drink fast, so naturally Caroline was still not sitting next to me when my glass ran empty. I stood to leave, but I didn't make it halfway to the door before it swung open. Caroline walked in wearing expensive jeans and looking quite nice, save for the look on her face.

I opened my mouth, but she raised her hand to stop me.

"Rick, don't talk; just listen. We can't do this. I-" she hesitated. "I can't do this right now. It just wouldn't be fair to you, I won't be able to treat you right."

I cracked a smile, bemused. "You made me come out and wait half an hour just to tell me THAT?"

"I'm sorry Rick, I really am," Caroline said. She bit her lip, seemingly waiting for my reaction.

I shrugged. "I get it."

"You get it?" She said. She looked more sad than relieved.

I smiled wider. "Yeah, I get it. You have a lot on your mind. But..." I looked away for a second and took a deep breath. "You came all the way out here. Let me show you something before you walk away forever and miss it."

"Rick..." She started. I held out my hand in response; she debated it, but broke down and took it. I led her outside, down the dirty alley beside Blainey's where the homeless overdose all the time, and around the back of the bar. There's a little ladder a couple feet off the ground that leads to the roof. I hopped up and started climbing without a word.

"Rick, what are you doing?" Caroline yelled from under me.

"You said you'd let me show you something! It's this way," I said, gesturing upwards.

I didn't wait for her; I kept climbing. She stood below me and paced nervously but eventually I felt the ladder vibrate as she jumped up to follow me. We got up to the roof.

"Are we supposed to be up here?" She said, dusting off her pants.

I chuckled.

"Rick, I really shouldn't do this," she said. She turned to find the ladder.

"Hey, Caroline," I called.

She didn't turn. "What is it, Rick?"

"Look at this," I said.

She turned and squinted at where I was pointing, and her face softened. In the distance the city lights glimmered in the dark, a million tiny pinpricks of gold against the black. I took Caroline's hand. 

"It's... Beautiful," she said quietly.

I looked down and cleared my throat, my face suddenly burning.

"What?"

I took another deep breath. It's the only thing..." I muttered.

"Rick, I can't hear you," she said gently.

"It's the only thing I could find that was as beautiful as you are," I said quickly. I looked in her eyes and quickly looked away before she could see me blush.

Caroline stepped closer to me in response. I put my hands on her, and looked back at her face. Her eyes shone in the moonlight, and her lips... They looked delicious. I had to see for myself. I leaned in and firmly put my lips on hers, and she kissed me back, hard. Caroline threw her arms around my neck and pulled me in, and I grabbed right back.

The next thing I remember I found myself taking off all of my clothes as she closed the blinds in what passed as my apartment. We made a lot of noise all night long. Neighbors complained. 

"Will you wait for me to get better?" she whispered in my ear the next morning.

"Hell," I said. "I can't wait that long."

Her lip trembled.

"I'll be right here by your side until you do," I whispered back.

Her disease progressed, of course. The chemotherapy was aggressive; she went every other week. I usually drove her (in her car, of course, I sure as hell didn't own one.) She had good days and bad days, and she didn't have the energy to do much of anything for three or four days after each round of treatment. But even still, she was my baby. She baked me a cake on my birthday, even though I never told her that my birthday was coming and she barely had the strength to stand. I took to thinking that the cancer picked her just because she was too caring to be allowed to live.

Eventually she did lose her strength; we were married a week later. Her dad pushed her down the aisle in her wheelchair, but despite it all she looked as beautiful as I had ever seen her. We decided to put off the honeymoon until she got better. To celebrate instead I drove her to the state park for the afternoon; she couldn't spend too much time in the sun so we sat underneath a big pine tree and had a picnic. She felt bad that she couldn't eat the sandwich I made her so she tried anyway and almost made herself sick.

Three days later she wouldn't wake up. I called an ambulance and they rushed her to the hospital, and immediately put her in intensive care in the oncology ward.

I sat for three and a half hours in the waiting room, unshaven and thoroughly terrified.

I stood up when the doctor walked outside. He had a frown on his face.

"Doc, what can you tell me?" I said.

He frowned. "Well sir, it's not great news... The cancer is in her lymph nodes."

I collapsed back down into the chair.

"So that's bad. What does it mean?" 

The doctor wrung his hands. "It means that we'll have to increase the amount of chemo she's getting and perhaps develop a more rigorous plan for radiation therapy. It... It may be wiser to simply prepare for the worst. You can bring her home, I'll give her some morphine..."

"Don't even think about it!" I said, standing. "That's my wife in there, doc, you gotta do whatever it takes!"

"Sir, I appreciate your concern, and I can't imagine the pain you're going through," the doctor said. He looked as ready to cry as I was. "But the fact of the matter is that continued treatment will be excruciatingly painful, and... when the disease has reached the state that it has in your wife, remission is almost a foregone conclusion."

I squeezed my hands into fists, and red crept into my vision. "Dammit doc," I choked out, "help her get better. Please?"

He blinked at me, stared for a minute, and then nodded with a sigh.

"Can... Can I see her?"

He nodded again, and stepped aside. I'm not sure he was able to speak. Poor guy.

Caroline looked about as sick as she must have felt. There she lay, hooked up to a dozen or so machines, eyes half shut. When had she gotten so skinny?

"Rick," she called weakly. "Baby, come here."

"I'm here, baby," I said quietly. I knelt next to her bed, even though there was a chair in the corner.

"Rick, I'm scared," she said. She just looked so... Small. "It hurts."

"I'm sorry, baby. It's only for a little while. I just talked to the doctor, he said he's gonna do everything he can to make you better."

She closed her eyes. "Dammit, Rick." She laid there like that for a few minutes, quiet. 

She cracked her eyes and looked into mine. "Baby... I don't want to die."

The air in the room seemed to get heavier, and so did every bone in my body. I took her hand in mine, firmly.

"You're not going to die, Caroline. I promise. I told you, I'll be right here until you get better." Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn't allow them to fall.

"I need... I need sleep I think," she said.

"Go to sleep baby, it's fine. I'll be right here," I said. She fell asleep with her hand in mine, and I put my head down next to her on the bed. We slept like that for the night. I woke up and my knees were sore and the doctor made me leave... But I knew that he would help her.

And he did, in the end. She spent three long weeks at the hospital while I stayed by her side as much as my boss would let me, and three long weeks later I got to drive her home. At Thanksgiving she insisted on cooking a meal for both of our parents, and on Christmas morning she finally stood up from her wheelchair. She never needed it again. Her doctors used words like "miracle" and "divine intervention." We took our honeymoon- we went to Hawaii, and spent a week on the beach.  Honestly? Those few months after Caroline beat her cancer were the best of my life. But... All things have to come to an end eventually.

A few things happened at once. I lost my job at the factory; budget cuts. I found a gig working nights at a the community college, and even though it beat starving I quickly got tired of mopping floors and emptying trash cans. And soon the bills started coming in. Insurance footed most of it, but Caroline had spent so much time in the hospital we just couldn't make ends meet. We stopped eating out, (Caroline was happy for the chance to improve in the kitchen), and we stopped going out (Caroline was happy for the chance to improve in bed.) I bought her a birthday card and cooked a nice steak dinner... And the next day I realized I didn't have enough money to pay a parking ticket. Shortly thereafter my doctor put me on an  antidepressant... And that brings us to our current situation.

I sat alone at the kitchen table, flipping through overdue credit card bills and wondering where I went wrong. Caroline was out at work... She had just gotten a promotion. What did I have? A jumpsuit. It seemed like I never saw her anymore; I didn't get home until after she had already left for the office, and I really had to sleep during the day to do my job well. Maybe it was my fault. She was kind, caring, radiant, and what was I? Bitter, selfish, utterly unsuccessful. The more I thought about it, the more I didn't deserve her. Would she be better off without me? Would she find a new man, or just thrive without a deadbeat to hold her down?

I looked down; the pills were in my hand. I took them, all of them. I reached over and took a drink of drain cleaner to wash them down. I closed my eyes. In front of me? A note. "Caroline, I love you."

Black.

And then? White. It felt like I was floating, and I stared up at a blinding white light. My whole body ached. But with despair, my thoughts turned to my love. What was I thinking?

"Caroline!" I yelled! Or... I tried to.

"I'm here, baby," she said. And there she was. She stood over me, her blond hair falling down on top of me in a cascade of light.

"Baby," I said. "I don't want to die."

Her eyes grew moist.

"You won't, baby. I promise."