The Days Before She Died

My name is Lucas Hunt,
The chances are you’ve never heard of me, never met me, and don’t even know who I am. I was a boy; I am now a man, with scruffy brown hair, big blue eyes and a body that all girls adore. This all means nothing to me. I don’t need or want the girls anymore, because the girl I truly love died. Rose is dead. I try not to think of her as dead, because she’s still alive in my heart. I live with the painful thoughts of her death, and the happiness of her smile. It’s the greatest of contradictions. That’s what I remember most though, her smile. But at least I Know that she died a happy woman because of what we did in the days before she died…

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4. Day Four

Waking up next to Rose made me smile yet again. Although I knew that she was fragile, I wrapped my arms around her waist and squeezed her gently. She didn't respond she just laid there, lost in her own thoughts.  “Rose, are you okay?” I asked. She looked pale, lost, and angry.

“Twenty days left.” She whispered. Rose was counting down her days. Her brown hair was thinning, but I ran my hands through in it anyway. “Twenty days until I die. You know, it’s weird, knowing when you’re going to die Lucas, but in a way I prefer it. I think it's better to know that I’m going to die, because I can do everything I want. If you die suddenly, you don’t have the time to plan out what you wanted to do.” Rose explained.

“There are three days until the wedding.” I mumbled, as I placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She murmured something I didn't hear, before kissing me back, pressing her delicate body against mine, I felt just how cold she was, but it didn't matter, I was just happy that she was there, hugging me.

“Promise me it’ll be perfect.” Rose said softly, running her hand over my chest, tracing the muscle lines that were hidden under my vest. I grinned slightly, showing my white teeth, before kissing Rose again.

“I promise.” I chuckled as I pulled out the book that I had been hiding from Rose for a very long time. She looked at the book’s cover, and her eyes widened. It was the book that I had planned the wedding in. The first page was all about Rose, her fitting sizes, her favourite colours and other things. The other pages were filled with ideas for dresses, venues, and other wedding related things. I wrote the book when I first met Rose, I always knew that she would be the girl for me, and so I thought of every last detail.

Rose looked through them; her tears of happiness wetted the pages. I smiled; at least she was sort of happier than before. She looked at the page where I’d thought about her hair. “I know how I want my hair for the wedding.” She grinned. I looked at the page with how I thought about her hair, and yet I had a feeling she’d want it differently.

“How would you like it dear?” I asked politely. I thought about all the different ways we could have her hair, in a bun, plaited, or styled in a beehive like Audrey Hepburn...

“I want to shave my hair.” Rose whispered. It made sense to have her head shaven actually, her hair was rather thin.

“Okay honey, we’ll go to Mario’s tonight.” I stroked her hair again. Although it did seem like such a waste to shave it, she would need to have it shaved sooner or later or it would moult everywhere. Rose was smiling again; she had always wanted to have her head shaved. But then, Rose had a very structured face that would look good even without hair. I pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “You’ll always look good to me.” I whispered. I tickled Rose and she began to giggle.

We quickly got ready and jumped into the car and drove to the local hairdressers.

“How may I help you?” Mario asked as Rose sat in the chair.

“Shave it all off, no hair left.” Rose ordered.

“Grade nought?” He obeyed. Soon her brown hair was in a tangled heap on the floor. I looked at her face, she looked brave. Rose looked like a fighter. Rose was my little warrior. We didn't have to pay for the haircut because Mario knew that Rose was dying, and that we had no real choice in shaving her head or not.

I wrapped a scarf around Roses head, to make sure that she was warm enough. Rose really did look beautiful with a shaven head. It was like she’d just stepped out of a model magazine. However, at this point I did notice that she was becoming more fragile, even though it was only the fourth day since her diagnosis.

Driving home Rose spotted a dress makers shop.

“Can I have my dress handmade?” Rose asked as we stopped at some traffic lights.

“Anything for you baby.” I replied in a soft whisper. We pulled into the shop’s little parking bay. I took the wedding book with all my ideas in it to the shop. Rose looked amazed at all the dresses that were hanging around the room. Her jaw hung open in amazement as we were walking to the front desk to talk to the dressmaker.

“We would like to have a wedding dress made for three days time. Can you do that for us?” I asked the woman at the front desk.

“Okay, well we specialize in making dream dresses here, so please take a seat over at the desk in the corner along with your lady and we will be over shortly.” She replied in a smooth English accent.

Sitting at the desk Rose was sketching out her own ideas on a scrap of paper. Rose had always been a good artist. She wanted to be a fashion designer, but she never lived long enough to for fill that dream.

The woman came and took Rose’s size measurements. Then talked us through what we wanted.

“I would like a dress with a tight bodice, with arms, so that I can cover the needle marks from my therapy. If you could I would like the arms to be made of lace. Then, I would like the skirt to be big and ruffled, but not too big. Then, the trail would have to be as long as you could make it because I would like to have more than one bridesmaid carrying it.” Rose explained to the dressmaker.

“That’s easily done. I like your hair cut by the way.” The Dressmaker added.  “But, do you mind if I make it free of charge and throw in a few extras for the cause?”

Rose and I were in shock. The dress should’ve cost £1,200 because the designer was professional and hired by the stars. Why would she make Rose’s for free?

“Why would you make it free of charge?” I asked curiously.

“Because your fiancé has cancer, and it will be a wedding to remember.” Replied the designer easily.

Rose was disgusted at the thought that she was getting things through sympathy, but Rose knew that it was for the best and that the dressmaker only wanted to add to our happiness. So we took the offer, and drove home. Rose was already asleep in the car, she was becoming easily tired.

 

Everything was happening so fast. Twenty day's were left.  

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