A Different Kind of Family Pt. 02

I gasped into our kiss feeling that initial union. It felt fuller, richer, and somehow more special. I hadn't felt like this since I first made love to Katie, as if my body understood the magnitude of first joining with a soulmate.

I couldn't tell you if we made love for 3 minutes or 3 hours. All I know is that we didn't change positions. Our two bodies rocked against each other and our faces never moved more than a few inches apart. The sweat poured across both our bodies, her voluminous breasts mashed against my chest. I was out of breath and my muscles ached and yet nothing in the world could stop us from thrusting.

And when we climaxed, the outpouring of love was infinitely larger than the outpouring of fluids from my body into hers.

My wife. My love. Rachel was nothing less to me.

In the morning, I would lose a soulmate and Rachel would lose a best friend. But together we would survive. With her by my side, I would never be on my own.

***

My skin was a pale gray. Lin had to prod me to remind me to keep breathing. But it was hard to remember to make my lungs move. After all, Katie's body was right in front of me and her chest barely twitched as she took in shallow breath after shallow breath.

The Rhythms of Life keep moving on: Tragedy, happiness, sadness, love. Katie would soon leave this world. But hope and Rachel's love would follow after. Life goes on.

I don't remember what each of us said. The words themselves are not important. But Lin, Rachel, and I each said goodbye.

And then with Katie's hand in mine, I told the doctor to go ahead and do it.

He waited just two seconds to see if I was going to change my mind, and then the heavy machinery chugged to a halt as it shut down.

The electronics that were breathing for her came to a stop, and Katie's chest sagged down as various lights and noises blinked out around us, leaving the room in deathly quiet.

And then Katie's chest rose up again. It barely moved, but it moved. And the heartbeat monitor kept up the same constant pace.

The doctor looked rather puzzled. He had warned me that people could survive for days after being taken off the life-support equipment. But Katie had needed the respirator to breath for weeks now. Her body shouldn't be able to breathe without it.

And yet, her chest kept moving.

Rachel clutched onto me and I kept my hand clutched onto Katie's as our minds raced, wondering what was going on.

The doctor was suddenly in motion, pulling the tube out of Katie's throat and then yelling for the medical staff.

I'll never forget those frantic few minutes. A lot of technical phrases were shouted out and my little family, Lin and Rachel and me, stayed huddled in the eye of the storm.

But there is singular memory I take from that day: the moment Katie's hand squeezed mine.

***

NEXT CHAPTER 4