“You waited until Dr. Kahn gave you good news,” I said. “You decided that once you were healthy, I could leave without guilt.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
Theo lowered his eyes.
“When I was sick, I couldn’t ask you,” he said.
“Ask me what?”
“Whether you still wanted me.”
I stopped packing.
“Ask me what?”
“You asked me to handle bills. You asked me to sit through appointments. You asked me to stay awake when you were scared. Why was that the one question you couldn’t ask?”
“Because I needed those things. If I asked whether you loved me and you said yes, I’d never know whether you meant it or whether you meant, ‘I can’t leave you like this.'”
His words sat between us.
“I needed those things.”
I closed the suitcase halfway.
“So you waited until today.”
“Today was the first day you could choose without cancer choosing for you.”
