He goes to the entryway and digs inside the backpack he carries to work, coming out with a sealed Ziploc bag. He pulls out a fabric mask, printed with sunflowers. “Thank you?” I say.
“An ICU nurse made it. God knows the last thing I’d want to do after a shift is sit down with a sewing machine, but it was really nice of her. I haven’t had a chance to buy any reusable masks yet, and you can’t wash the blue surgical ones.”
“How does she even know about me?”
“She’s the one who snuck me in to see you.”
“I don’t want to take your mask—”
“Oh, it’s okay. Athena made me one, too. Without sunflowers.”
His cheeks have gone pink.
“Athena,” I repeat. “That’s a real name?”
“Greek mom. Dad’s from Detroit.”
I wait for him to say, She’s sixty-five. Or, She’s been married longer than we’ve been alive. Or even to be amused by my jealousy. But Finn doesn’t say anything else, and I put the mask down carefully beside my plate. “You seem to know a lot about her,” I say.
“I guess that’s how it is, when you’re fighting against death together every day,” Finn answers.
I am resentful of a woman who may have helped save my life. I am suspicious of Finn, even though I cheated on him in my dreams.
I force myself to swallow. “Please thank Athena for me,” I say.
While Finn finishes his sandwich, I tell him about a tutorial I saw online today on how to make a homemade mask from the cup of a bra.
Finn smiles, and I achieve my goal: to see his shoulders relax and the tension release. I was the one who made this happen, and that’s who Finn needs me to be.
If there’s one thing we are both good at in this relationship, it’s being predictable.
“I’ve been trying to remember getting sick,” I say. “I know you said you’d tell me anything I want to know. Did I have a headache, before things started getting bad, or—”
“Diana?” Finn cuts me off, rubbing his temples. “Can we … ?just … ?not?” He looks up at me, his eyes pleading. “It’s been a day.”
I abandon everything I was about to ask.
“How about a movie?” he says, realizing that he’s shut me down. He stands and yanks me into his arms and buries his face in the curve of my neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I comb my fingers through his hair. “I know,” I say.
We settle onto the couch and turn on the TV, looking for something completely escapist. Avengers: Endgame is on and we are quickly absorbed. Well, Finn is. I mostly pepper him with questions like why Captain Marvel can’t just use the gauntlet by herself. I do not realize at first that Finn is crying.
It’s the end of the movie, and Pepper Potts is bent over Tony Stark, who’s sacrificed himself to save the universe. She tells him they’re going to be okay, and Tony just looks at her, because he knows that’s not true, and she kisses him. You can rest now, she says.
Finn’s shoulders tremble and I pull away to look at him. He sinks forward, burying his face in his hands, trying to stifle his sobs. I do not think, in all the years I’ve known Finn, I have ever seen him fall apart like this. It is scary.
“Hey,” I say, touching his arm. “Finn, it’s okay.”
His hand shakes as he wipes it over his eyes. “They asked me to sign a DNR for you,” Finn says. “I didn’t know what to do. I came in and I sat with you and I told you that if you needed to go, it was okay.”
You can rest now.
Maybe, in my sedated haze, I heard him. Maybe I rested, then fought my way back to the land of the living. But Finn, he hasn’t had any time to rest.
He takes a shuddering breath and looks up at me sheepishly. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
I lay my palm on his cheek. “You don’t have to apologize.”
He grasps my hand and turns his face to kiss it. “I didn’t think this was going to happen quite like this,” he says under his breath, and then he looks me directly in the eye. “I knew I wanted to spend my life with you. The thing is, I didn’t really understand what that meant until yours nearly ended.” He ducks his head. “I had a whole plan for how to do this—but I don’t think I can wait—”
I rocket off the couch, yanking my hand from his. My fingers feel like ice. “I have to … ?use the bathroom,” I blurt out, and I stumble away from him, closing the door behind me. Inside, I run the faucet and I splash water on my face.