Taking his hand, she led him out of the restaurant and to the Jeep. They didn’t speak on the way to the hotel. AJ rested his head against the window with his eyes closed. She hoped he slept and when he woke his vision would return.
No such luck.
When they arrived back at their hotel room, he sat on the edge of the bed. All she could do was sit across from him on the opposing bed, watching him stare blankly at the floor, occasionally blinking hard as if he could blink or shake away the blurriness—the impending darkness.
“It’s time,” his voice broke just above a whisper.
She looked at the clock on the nightstand and realized she forgot to give him his pain medication with dinner.
“Sorry, I forgot.” Digging into her bag, she pulled out the bottle and set it on the nightstand then headed to the bathroom to get water.
When she returned she grabbed his hand to give him the water. He curled his fingers around it. The next few seconds happened in slow motion. As he brought the glass to his mouth she reached for the bottle. The cap was off and it was empty.
“No!” She whipped around knocking the glass from his hand. Shoving his head towards his knees, she dug her fingers into his mouth and began ripping out pills as he coughed. Losing his balance, he tumbled forward onto the floor.
“What are you doing?” she yelled, straddling his body while shoving his head to the side to retrieve the rest of the pills before he could swallow.
He continued to cough around her fingers digging into his mouth as he grabbed her wrists.
Content with the large scattering of expelled pills all over the floor, she collapsed onto him, banging his chest with her fists. “Why? Why? Why? I don’t understand!”
His hands rested on her back as she continued to fist and claw at him. “I told you … it’s time.”
She sat up, tears racing down her red, blotchy face. “It was time to take one pill. One. Fucking. Pill!” She grabbed the sides of his head and leaned forward resting her forehead on his. “Look at me,” she whispered. “Please.”
AJ opened his eyes. “I can barely see you.” He closed them again. Down the side of his face a lone tear fell. His. Fucking. Tear.
*
That night he had another seizure and later vomited before falling to sleep. Jillian didn’t sleep at all. She packed their suitcases and sent a text off to Jackson.
Jillian: Be home tomorrow night.
Jackson: Alone?
Jillian: No.
Jackson: I’m fine. I don’t need you to rush home.
Jillian: I need you.
Jackson: Safe travels.
Then she called McGraw.
“It’s two o’clock in the morning. West. Fucking. Coast. I’m changing my number,” he grumbled.
“I need a private jet from Houston to Omaha tomorrow.”
“He died?”
She gritted her teeth and blinked back the tears. “No, but he’s losing his sight, and I’ll need assistance from the hotel to the airport. Please don’t act like you don’t know where I’m staying. I spotted your guys following me yesterday.”
“I have to keep an eye on you when you call me every other day asking for ridiculous favors.”
“I’m done asking after this.”
He laughed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
She had no emotion left, not even enough to yell at him and tell him how much she hated him … how much he added to the ruination of her life.
“Text me the details when you get everything arranged.” Letting her head fall back into the wall of the hallway outside of the hotel room, she pressed End, wishing more than anything she could press that same button on her emotions … on her own life.
By eight o’clock her phone chimed with a text from McGraw, mapping out the times and details for their transfer back to Omaha.
“AJ?” She gently shook him, but it took her saying his name several more times and intense shaking to bring him out of sleep.
He peeled his eyes open.
She was afraid to ask, but she had to. “Can you see?”
He nodded once. “It comes and goes.” He blinked hard.
She sighed. “We’re leaving in an hour.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
AJ’s expression tensed. “Portland.”
“Omaha.”
“Why?”
Jillian laughed. It was all she could do at that point. “Because you tried to overdose on pain pills right in front of me last night.”
“So you’re punishing me.”
“Punishing you? Oh my God. It’s not a punishment. I’m not taking you back to your parents’ and dropping you on their door step with a Post-It note that says, ‘Blind and Suicidal.’ I just want to go back to Omaha with you.”
“It’s not going to change anything.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Let’s get you into the shower. Our ride will be here in less than an hour now.”
“Our ride?” he asked as she helped him get out of bed.
“Yes. My drug dealer has arranged transportation to the airport and private jet.”