I didn't know what to expect when I stepped foot into her room. My heart was still racing, my palms were sweating and I think I had just decided to release my first breath the moment I saw her. I don't know how you're suppose to look when you know your about to die, but I wasn't expecting the wide smile or calm demeanor. She looked just like she was home, waking up in our bed, excited that I had finally returned home- like it didn't even matter where I came from. I was taken aback, unsure of what to do next, because nothing about the way she looked came anything close to the reality of her circumstance. Was this false joy? Was this an attempt to preceive reality under a blinding false light? Was Miranda pretending this all was some big scene, apart of someone else's one-man show? To look at me, like I was the joy her eyes searched for crushed my heart, broke my defense, and openly reminded me what I had done to a woman so lovely- all over again.

" Don't just stand there Mamas...come to me." The spread of her smile widened, if you could imagine, and the light in the room all but heightened in response. Her arms were open to me, her head titled in an expected manner, her eyes telling me to let go and move forward. Why didn't she hate me? Why didn't she want to spit at me, destroy me for forcing her to live the last of her life in such turmoil? She was acting as if everything was okay, when nothing was alright. The man I had fallen in love with is sitting outside of his door...waiting for me...wanting to walk about what I did with his best friend- just last night, while she lays here facing death. She's dying. All over again, the tears fall down my face.

" Why are you doing this?" I sounded angry, I felt mortified. How could I even manage the gall to get pissed at her? What right did I have to feel anything other then self disgust? I shouldn't want to yell, I shouldn't want her to hate her reality, like I hate myself. Her smile didn't falter, only the glint in her eye lowered as she just watched my torment. She looked like she understood, like she felt everything inside and wanted to help me bring them out. Help me deal with them- this woman, my that was dying.

" Why are you Bryne?" Ican't remember the last time she called me Bryne. I don't ever remember it sounding so sweet, like it didn't feel like spitfire on her tongue. Like she didn't hate me for everything I did to her. Like we weren't having this conversation in the hospital where I learned she was going to die.

" Stop it Mira..."

"No...you stop." Her eyes silenced me. The look she gave turned every word I wanted to scream to lush, and I just let the tears fall down my face. I wished there was someplace to go, someone to turn to, to cry and release everything I felt inside. I didn't understand why Miranda, of all people, was chosing to be that one. " Come here Bryne...your shaking." I shook my head no, but I didn't stop myself from walking into her arms- letting them in circle me and usher out all the pain inside.

" What have I done."

" What anyone would do...just a bit more unethical." I would have laughed, joined in with her humor, but frankly- I didn't see much humor in the light of this situation. I saw misery, anger...death. " You didn't do anything but what came natural in your eyes...you fell in love Bryne. Should I hate you for wanting what makes you happy. For going after the same thing I found in you.."

" You don't know..." How did it become her consoling me? Miranda was the one who needed to be comforted, she needed the healing. Why was she offering it to me? It was then that I realized the reasons why I had fallen in love with her. She was so patient, so kind, unselfish and understanding- even if- even when she was dying inside. How could I hurt someone so good?

" I don't have to know..especially since you don't even have an idea. You have to be crazy to love...why else does it drive us insane?" I smiled against her shirt, despite myself, feeling the coils of anger release themselves of me. I sighed into her chest, allowed my arms to wrap themselves around her middle, and relished in the soft strokes she gave my hair.

" Are you scared?"

" I'm more afraid for you." I squeezed her middle for reassurance, felt her soft skin fold under my touch, but it didn't dissuade the uncertainty I felt. It was then that I realized, I had no clue what was going to happen next. I knew all along, but the realization of everything that happened was a blow that came hard.

" How can you be afraid for me...you're..."

" I'm not dead yet." she actually laughed, and as absurd as the moment was, I laughed with her. I don't think anyone else treated a death sentence with more poise, humor, or light heartedness. It was like all the problems just on the other side of her door didn't matter, it felt good to be with her and not be afraid of everything that I faced. " That Justin...he's a mocha." I blushed, choked on my embarassment, was appalled that my girlfriend was comparing the man I cheated on her with to her favorite treat. If anything was worth anything to Miranda, it was a mocha- and under different circumstances I would have been proud. " If you were going to leave me Mamas..it had to be for a mocha!" She laughed, squeezed me tighter, but when I looked in her eyes I saw the sadness.

" I'm so sorry Miranda....I won't leave you. Not now..not when..." I couldn't finish. It was without question that I would be there for Miranda. In light of everything that was going on, it was insane for me to even consider what future I had with anyone, when Miranda's was so limited.

"I won't let you hide behind me..or this disease. I know you'll be there for me Mamas...but that doesn't mean you stop living." I looked at her, and wished I could tell her just how much I've been living. How confused, how lost and uncertain I felt. She was the only thing in my life that had centered me for so long....

" I think I've lived too much...." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt the remorse. I looked at her, and could tell instantly she didnt read any more into my words than what I had meant them to be.

" Well...don't stop on account for no one." Instead, her eyes held a certain intensity, a certain fire, that encouraged me to take charge of the crazy ride - even if it meant I always didn't do the right thing. Even if it meant I didn't do the expected, even if it meant taking extreme- life altering chances. " You can't ever live enough." We stayed, laying in our silence, Miranda slowly stroking my hair, while I wallowed in the serenity of our moment. Miranda loved with her whole heart, she took chances, she accepted mistakes and that's why I think it's so easy for her to understand- to forgive. I think I always knew this, but to appreciate it is something else. I might not know what the future holds, can't even fathom what will happen next, but I know it's important for me to cherish this loving moment- because you never know when it's your last.