Doctor Freedom, who I found out was really named Mark, ran over when he saw me reaching down to lift Adam, but Adam held his hand out, waving him off. “Let me kiss my fiancée first!” Mark stood several feet away and tried to act like he was looking at something in the other direction.
I couldn’t even guess as to how much they were paying an oncologist to play nursemaid to Adam. Mark was a young, easygoing doctor from Oregon. In the short time that I had known him, I could tell he wanted to be there and that he was fond of Adam. I liked to think he wanted to contribute to the cause. It helped that Adam’s dad’s pockets were deep; Adam himself had donated a lot of his money before he was even hospitalized.
Everyone coming together for Adam made more sense to me because of Adam’s magnetism, his joy, and his courage as he faced what could be the end of his life. It was painfully sad, but also moving and life-affirming for those of us who were lucky enough to know him during that time.
A private Learjet flew us to New York, where we boarded a commercial flight to Paris.
Mark was diligent about administering Adam’s drugs while we traveled. Adam and I took up three first-class seats, and if Adam was uncomfortable at all, he said nothing about it. I caught him stealing glances at me every now and then. Out of the corner of my eye, I’d see him smile and I’d smile myself.
When the lights went down in the cabin, Mark took a seat across the aisle from where Adam and I sat. The three of us reclined our chairs and dozed off. Adam’s hand clutched mine the whole flight.
Just before we landed in Paris, Adam had a small seizure. Mark calmly intervened, giving another type of drug, which adversely made Adam very groggy. Still, instead of using the narrow wheelchair from the airline to get to the jetway, Adam insisted on walking.
Adam had booked two rooms next to each other in a lavish five-star hotel that overlooked the Eiffel Tower. I didn’t think I would see Paris this way, even in my wildest dreams: sitting out on a verandah, staring at the Eiffel Tower’s magnificence. Still, a doctor checked the vitals of my suffering fiancé, which wasn’t part of the original fantasy. I wish I could say that it was the most romantic time of my life, but it was so equally tragic that it felt surreal and gut-wrenching at times. Yet, there were still moments of magic. I allowed myself to go to that place with Adam. I imagined Dr. Mark wasn’t really there, and that Adam and I were experiencing Paris the way I had described it to him.
I had never been out of California before except to visit my aunt in Flagstaff, Arizona, and the three times I had been to Las Vegas. I hadn’t even dreamed of going to Europe. I was living in a bubble where I thought everyone exaggerated how amazing the world truly was. You know the people who think seeing it in a picture is like seeing it in real life? Well, it’s not. Because when you’re there, you’re not just seeing it. It’s the sounds, the smells of Paris, the way the air feels on your skin, the way the wine tastes different when you drink it from Parisian glasses while sitting in a wicker chair outside a café on a cobblestone street. You can’t re-create the hum of a foreign language being spoken over and over itself. It sounds like music. The way the sun rises and sets, the shadows on the buildings, the car horns honking in the distance. It’s all different, new, and fascinating to experience when you travel far away from home.
We spent the first few days exploring Paris as much as we could without pushing Adam too hard. On the third day, we got married in a little chapel. He wore a black suit. His hair had started to grow back on his head and face. I wanted to use that fact as some sort of proof that his body was okay. I wore a plain, A-line, tea-length white dress.
Adam and I stood face-to-face while the priest spoke in French to officiate the wedding ceremony . . . our wedding ceremony. It didn’t matter what language he was speaking; we understood what he was saying. There was a handful of people just sitting in the chapel, and, of course, Dr. Mark looking on as our witness.
In heavily accented English, the priest gestured toward Adam and said, “Your vows now.”
While holding my hands and looking into my eyes, Adam smiled and said, “If you told me I could have another life, a longer life, but that I couldn’t have you, I’d say no thanks. I’d take you and my short life over and over again.”
I started to cry instantly because, even in our vows, there was so much resignation. “But . . .”
He put his fingers to my lips. “Wait, lady, let me say my vows.”
I nodded as tears poured from my eyes.
“Every night since that night in my loft, I’ve fallen asleep thinking about you, standing in front of Starry Night—”
I interrupted him by leaning in and kissing him—a full, passionate kiss. I put everything I had into it because the truth was that every night since that night in Adam’s loft, I had fallen asleep thinking about being with him, too. Even when I was with Seth, lying in Seth’s arms, I would doze off to the image of Adam and me holding hands and kissing the way we were right now.
“No, no,” the priest said. “Not time yet.”
Adam pulled away and laughed. I was speechless.
“I am totally in love with you, not because you’re here right now or because you’ve taken care of me; it’s because when you laugh, it sounds like pure joy. It’s because you walk super fast with your head down, and when you stop to look up, you seem surprised every time. Like the world is surprising you with its beauty. I love the way you see the world, Charlotte. That’s why I love you. When I thought of you looking at Starry Night, it wasn’t just that it was brighter to me; it was that I knew it would seem brighter to you. You don’t know how beautiful that quality is. You’re already so beautiful and kind, but then you have this hope and promise in your eyes, too. And you’re also the sexiest woman I have ever known.”
“Adam,” I chided. The priest shrugged and looked away. At that point I don’t think he was too overly concerned about propriety.
“Charlotte, I am so selfish for doing this to you.” I shook my head, but Adam continued. “For telling you all of this when I could be leaving you so soon. Until then, I promise to be the best husband I can. Until death do us part,” he said with a lopsided grin.
I was not amused. “Don’t be a quitter, Bramwell,” I said straight-faced. I captured his face in my hands and looked deep into his cozy brown eyes. “Till death do us part is for quitters. I promise to love you forever. As long as there is love in this world, we will be a part of it.” I meant it. No matter what happened, I would always love him. I know to others it would seem odd that we fell for each other so easily, even under the worst circumstances, but Adam was exactly the right person for me.
We kissed, and after several seconds, the priest cleared his throat. We let him finish his ceremony. Adam and I walked down the aisle, side by side, holding hands while soft music played overhead.
“Wait,” Adam said. He looked up to the dome-shaped ceiling and window blasting light down onto us and just stared for several moments.
“What is it, Adam?” I said.
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
We headed out to the taxi waiting for us. Dr. Mark let us ride alone but he caught the next one and followed close behind. We held hands the whole way, but we were quiet.
“Adam, I’m afraid you’re going to do something really stupid,” I said, worried that his silence meant he was making decisions in his mind.
“Like what? I’m not going to kill myself, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I know that. I don’t want you to give me any of your possessions or try to take care of me after you’re gone. I just realized . . .”
“What, that you’re my wife now?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“I’m not. I’m just going to give you my last million so you can have some fun with it.”
“You don’t have a million dollars . . . do you?”
“Yeah, probably not. I stopped keeping track of that stuff a long time ago.”
“Whatever you have, donate it to cancer research or something. You can’t give me your money, Adam.”
“Sure I can.”