Somewhere inside of the both of us, we still had a spark of hope that she'd live to tell the story of how she defeated cancer.
We both hoped she'd live long enough to fall in love.
We both hoped she'd live long enough to see me fall in love.
We b...
His mumbles had caught my attention. It was 00:00, the time that begins to haunt most people. I had awoken after tossing and turning through most of my "sleep". I finally gave up trying to fall back into slumber and got up. I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of milk. I pressed the numbers on the dial pad of the microwave, the dull tone of each button ringing through my mind. Having Connor staying with me had changed many things. It altered my way of living, not just because there was suddenly another person living with me, but because the both of us didn't know whether to be happy or sad. Finley, the love of my brother's life, was dead. Connor was in remission. Mixed feelings and bittersweet tensions were dominating our apartment.
The microwave sounded its usual annoying 'beep, beep, beep'. I slammed the microwave door shut and gulped down some of the milk.
"Aaaah," I sighed and walked toward my brother's/my old room.
"Tears are prayers too. They travel to God when we can't speak." he mumbled.
I cocked an eyebrow. What was this about a God? I peered through the crack in the door and saw that he was not mumbling in his sleep like I always thought he was, he was reading a book; a big thick book with a leather binding. This was very confusing to me. It couldn't be a bible, could it? I mean, we have never owned one. Then it hit me: it was Finley's bible. The one Dr Green handed me after she died, the one I gave Connor later on. It all made sense to me. Part of me knew that it was not normal for Connor to be mumbling in his sleep, but because he was grieving Finley, I thought maybe he was dreaming about her.
He had not been dreaming, he had been reading.
I took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the door, gaining Connor's attention. He looked up from the bible and saw me at the door. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "She left messages for me in her bible..." he said, before a single tear rolled down his cheek. I rushed to him, swiftly placing my glass on the nightstand. I embraced him and ran my fingers through his hair. I peered down at the bible in his hand. There were notes on each blank space in pencil and certain lines were highlighted. There were bookmarks throughout the book. I became curious as to what she had left for him.
"What kind of messages?" I asked him in a whisper.
"I can't explain it," he said, pulling away and paging through the bible. He turned to a page that was marked with a pink sticky marker.
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." he said, "Matthew 5:4."
