Hope

This is not an erotic short story. Just be warned. If you're looking for my usual fare, please click My Stories

I had fun writing stories for the Literotica 750 Word Challenge, but my OCD wanted to do a nice round 1,000 words, so here we are. A three-part series each containing exactly 1,000 words.

This is Part 2.

I hope you enjoy reading them!

Love, Frey

The incessant beeping would have driven anyone else mad, but to Finn it was comforting. It reassured him that Ana was still alive.

Alive, but to what end? The doctors had told him over and over that there was always hope, but he knew that was just lip service doctors said to assuage a dying woman's husband.

Finn knew that the situation was hopeless.

His wife was in a coma and dying of cancer. And rather quickly at that.

And he had to come to terms with this fact.

Or not.

"Ana," he said to his wife, "I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

Sitting by her bedside, he held her limp hand in his.

"We were supposed to grow old together. We were supposed to have another three or four decades with each other."

Finn started to cry.

"Now, I don't know if we even have three or four days."

He bowed his head as if in prayer to a God that he had lost faith in.

"What do I do now? Drift through the next forty years until I can be with you again? Just wander aimlessly through my life? I don't want to go on without you, Ana." Finn laid his head on the bed with his dying wife.

Sometime later, Finn was awoken by a night nurse gently shaking his shoulder. He blinked and sat up.

"You should go home and get some sleep. We'll call if anything changes."

"No," Finn answered her. "I'll just sleep in this chair."

"Absolutely not," was the nurse's response. "I'll get you a cot."

A few minutes later a man brought in a cot, a pillow, a blanket, and a small toiletry kit for Finn. "Thank you."

The next morning, Finn was sitting by Ana's bed talking to her when the background beeping suddenly turned into a steady tone. As simple as that, she was gone.

Nurses rushed in, but it was too late. Ana had a DNR anyway, so there was really no point. She was never going to wake from the coma. She was never going to feel the sunshine on her face again. She was never going to love her husband ever again.

Two weeks later, Finn was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He had lost his wife. Buried her. And did nothing else. After the funeral, a few people had called and even fewer stopped by. He had answered the phone and the door each time to be polite, but then quickly made some excuse to turn them away. He was in no condition to talk to or see anyone.

The phone rang and he answered it.

"Hello?"

"Finn, it's Bob Anderson. How are you?"

"Okay," Finn answered. Bob was his former boss and a really great guy. He had attended the wake and funeral, sent over a couple of takeout dinners after that and had called half a dozen times over the last two weeks.

"I'd like you to come back to work."

"But I quit."

"I understand that. And I'm rehiring you. We never filled your position -- never even tried -- and we want you back. We'll call it a 'temporary unpaid vacation.' How does that sound?" When Finn didn't respond, he added, "Finn, I'm not taking no for an answer."

A week and a half later, Finn was back at work. Physically, at least. Everyone was very supportive and accommodating. They were all so kind to him, that Finn almost thought he could continue his life without Ana.

He almost thought that.

In fact, he was wondering why he had even continued to trudge through the broken shards of his shattered life. He was so tied to his past, that he had no future.

No hope for a future.

So, one day he came home from work and went to his bedroom closet. Opening the door, he fumbled around for the key that he had hidden above the inner door jamb. Finding it, he took the key down and looked at it for a moment. Then reached up to the shelf in the closet, moved a few things, dragged the small handgun safe to the edge, and pulled it down.

He placed it on his bed -- what was once their bed -- and inserted the key.

But when he opened it, there was no gun.

Instead, there was a sealed envelope. It simply said Finn in his wife's handwriting.

He paused for a few moments holding the envelope in his shaking hands, then carefully opened it. He unfolded the single piece of paper that was inside and read what his wife had written.

Today, I was diagnosed with cancer. I am so very sorry!

Right now, you're tossing and turning in your sleep and I'm sitting at the kitchen table writing this.

I love you and am so incredibly sorry that you have to go through this. I cannot ever tell you how sorry I am. Words are simply inadequate for a time like this, but I have something that you need to know.

When I die -- and I'm under no delusions that a miracle will save me -- I want you to continue on with your life. I cannot imagine how difficult that will be, but it's what I want for you. I'm crying so hard as I write this, that I can barely finish.

Call it my final, dying wish.

Continue to live. As difficult as it may be, find joy for yourself. It's what I want.

I will love you forever.

Ana

Finn folded the paper and placed it in the envelope. He then placed the envelope back in the safe, locked it, and put it back on the closet shelf.

He wanted to cry, but he couldn't.

He wouldn't.

Instead, he put on his shoes, grabbed the forgotten book from his bedside table, opened the front door to his house, and blinked as the sunshine warmed his face.

I hope that you've enjoyed this story. If you did, please follow me for all of my newest uploads!

I would REALLY appreciate it if you could favorite this story, rate it as 5 stars (hint, hint), and I absolutely adore reading your comments!!

Thank you so much!

Love, Frey

My Stories