He was nervous, yes, but I suppose I expected him to be a bit more restive than he was.
“Are you positive you want to go through with this?” I asked. It was D-day, so to speak, and I needed him to be certain.
It wasn’t that I felt he was incapable of actually going through with it, because he’d proven time and again his strength and determination to be a part of the outside world with me, but this was different from being on the other end of a Walkie-talkie where you could hit a button and make the voice piercing through the speaker disappear. That voice wouldn’t know your discomfort because they couldn’t see you, see how they affected you. One movement from your finger would make them disappear.
This time, though, he wouldn’t have that safety net. He was about to stand face-to-face with another person, a person that wasn’t me. That fact alone was significant.
Our eyes met as he nodded. He reached for my hand and guided it toward his mouth, kissing each finger tip tenderly. “Oh, meu anjo, se você pudesse entender o quanto você já curou minha alma. Você é minha esperança, lembra? Eu posso fazer isso.” His eyes scanned my face, the warmth within them illuminating the green. I could see myself, see that I was precious to him. “I’m ready.”
He placed my hand against his cheek as I leaned toward him, pressing my forehead to his while closing my eyes and breathing him in. His touch and scent always eased me. “I love you,” I whispered. It was all I could say to let him know I believed in him, to let him know how much he meant to me.
I reached for the Walkie-talkie that sat alongside my left thigh, keeping the physical connection between us as I spoke into the receiver. “Alice,” I breathed. “It’s time.”
OO-OO-OO