Judith’s P.O.V: Behaving Human

"Sweet pea wake up," I felt a hand rubbing my forearm, "I apologize if I startled you. It's 5:30 am, and I don't want to miss my flight," Mark whispered into my ears, a whiff of chocolate scent wafting in my nose.

Not getting up from the bed, I turned to one side, watching his every move. A sharp pang of sorrow shot through my heart at the thought of me not seeing him for months.

That feeling was better than sympathy; that was the last thing I wanted him to remember me feeling as he traveled to South Africa.

My drive to show him my strength was the only thing that saved me from collapsing. He had created a wall around his emotions since we returned from the K.B Hospital, making it difficult for anyone to read through him.

Underneath the 'I'm Okay, everything's fine,' I knew he was far from alright. I felt a pang of pain every time I watched him smile: he was being brave for me.

It pained every time I remembered our wedding vows, which had been to be each other's comfort and serenity for almost six years, and here I was, unable to tell how much anguish he was feeling.

I couldn't afford to lose him because he was the best thing in my life.

"Are you sure you're all right? "I've been snapping my fingers at you since last year," he feigned to check his watch before continuing, "- I realize I'm a whole meal, but we can't..."

My laughing echoed across the room, causing him to join in.

I finally got out of bed and inquired. "Are you worried? How are you feeling?"

"How are we doing this now? How come- listen to me; I'm telling you, don't worry. I'll come back to you: strong, healthy, handsome."

3

"I know I shouldn't have listened to you; I should have been there with you, the first person you see when you wake up," I continued, interrupting him as he glanced at me with a gorgeous smirk.

"At least you're sure I'd wake up," he said, drawing an intense stare from me and causing him to sigh.

He cupped my cheeks in his palms and wiped away what appeared to be a tear from my eyes with his thumb. I sobbed in his arms as he smiled down at me.

How could life be so cruel? He was sick, and yet I felt it was my heart that needed the transplant.

The sensations coursing through my body were so intense that I wished I were numb and emotionless. The helplessness and fear of Mark not returning to me weighed heavily on my shoulders.

He kept muttering phrases assuring me that everything would be great, and I trusted him. That was how much I trusted him. I trusted him to come back to me.

****

It had been nine hours since I had dropped off my husband at the airport and bid him goodbye. He requested that I leave first, as he preferred to be the one to see me off.

The church was my next stop. My husband and I were both devout Christians, and while I was confident that God would protect him, I couldn't help but be terrified.

"What brings you here, my child? Mark was supposed to leave today, but has he decided not to?" My Catholic priest approached me, "Oh, my goodness, you're crying. Has your husband's health deteriorated?"

"No, Father, we made a decision... He genuinely decided that I should stay at home while he went with Sage, his cousin. Do you believe I should have accompanied him?

Isn't it true that I'm supposed to be there?" I feared the priest would tell me I had made a mistake by not going as I glanced at him, my nose quitting its job.

"So he's already gone. Mark would never make you sad, you know. If you were there with him, he knew you'd be worried.

Yes, you're concerned: you have no idea what's going on, and hopelessness would almost certainly kill you, but it's nothing compared to being there with him.

Give him a break; he needs to cry as well. With you by his side, he couldn't do it. That is his chance to be human." He reasoned, and no matter how hard I tried, his words didn't make me feel better.

"I just don't know what to do," I admitted, biting my nails, a habit I couldn't break.

"You can't do anything. I sympathize with what you're going through," the priest said, prompting a sudden turn from me.

I snapped, quickly feeling terrible, "Of course you do," I apologized, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have." I apologize for snapping at you. I'm just afraid."

"We don't know the Almighty's will, Judith. You must pray, and I will do so as well. Your husband is braver than you believe.

Before you leave, let us say a quick prayer," As we prayed together, he urged, holding my hand.

5

As I made a tight left turn away from the Church, a text notification popped on my phone, turning on the lights in my vehicle.

It happened more than eight times before I decided to park my car and investigate: it could be necessary.

I wrinkled up my face and gazed at my laptop for a long as the images that greeted my eyes halted the air that traveled through my lungs.

From my heart to my stomach, I felt a stab of jealousy and other awareness. I couldn't fathom what I was seeing and how I was supposed to feel.

What is the meaning of this? I tried figuring it out with my brows furrowed. Did my husband lie to me about the surgery so he could spend days with her?

No, there must be some explanations for this. See, Mark is wearing a Denim shirt here, and he left wearing a white t-shirt. That is an old picture; it had to be.

I kept telling myself that the picture I was gazing at had some explanation. As a result, I forced myself to glance at the others. They appeared to be too friendly with each other in the photos.

My husband's heart was failing, and he needed a transplant, so I knew he wasn't feeling well.

I was aware that his appointment wasn't for another three months. But his doctor had allegedly phoned him and advised him to come to the hospital as soon as possible because his illness could worsen sooner than expected.

If not what I know of, then it means he used his doctor's appointment to meet up with my cousin, Serena. What could be worse than a sick husband? A cheating husband!

The photos showed my husband was still in town and at a restaurant with my cousin, holding, stroking, and whispering to each other. I couldn't handle it any longer, so I dialed my cousin's number.

6

"Where are you, Serena?" I inquired, clinging to the phone with bated breath.

"Home, I guess," she grumbled, her voice thick as if I had jolted her awake from her nap, which only made me angry, so I took a big breath and asked again.

"You guess? You aren't sure! As in you are somewhere you don't recognize?"

"I think I stopped getting asked about my whereabouts so many years ago. Go straight to the point, cousin! I don't have time," she said irritably.

On the other end of the line, she growled. Since we were children, one of her characteristics had been that once she became furious, she became aggressive and would even bite her way through any fight.

But she didn't get to be upset after that. "Have you been seeing my husband?" I exclaimed right there.

"Once in a while, yeah. It's not a big deal..." She didn't say anything else after that, and all I could hear was her whispering, "oh, oh. I wasn't sending the pictures to you," she later informed me.

"And know, I have some presentations coming up and haven't had time to sleep yet, so bye, I'll phone you when I wake up," she continued before I could finish my sentence.

How dare she hang up on me, that vile meat?