I turn back to Spencer now. "I don't think I'll be around for that invitation, Spence," I remind him gently.
His face falls like he'd forgotten. Maybe he had. I couldn't blame him for that. Sometimes I forgot too. And remembering made everything hurt all over again. "Right," he agrees. "Sorry." I shrug softly and it's silent again until he says, "This fucking sucks, Grace."
I force out a smile because it's the only think I can think to do and nod my head. "Yeah," I agree. "It definitely sucks." I can feel the tears pricking the backs of my eyes again and I take an agitated breath. I do not want to do this again. I do not want to be angry again. I've been that. I am dying, I remind myself. And being angry is not going to change that. "Sometimes bad shit just happens," I start. I'm going to launch into the speech that I've delivered so many times that it's mostly just rehearsed words by now, but Spencer cuts me off.
"No." He shakes his head. "This is not fair! You don't-" I think I hear his voice break. "It's not fair," he repeats, quieter.
I take a deep breath and move to take his hand. "Please don't do this, Spencer." I swallow again to keep the tears back. "I've accepted this," I say. And it's the truth. There's no getting around it. And I know that. "I was so angry, you know? Because I want to do so many things..." I trail my sentence because talking about the things that I want to do doesn't mean I'll get to do them. "But I don't want to talk about how much this sucks. Because I don't want to be angry. Not now."
Spencer’s eyes are filling with tears and I think: this is the second time in my life I've ever truly seen him cry.