“He didn’t die with a label. You don’t die with labels, you live with them,” I contended.

“He died because of his.”

I felt his body jerk in my arms as he began to cry. It was a marvel that he had any tears left considering he wept so often.

“It’s not fair,” he whimpered. “He had an awful life.”

“You did everything you could to make it better.”

“Not everything,” Cal disagreed.

I read between the lines and knew it was only a matter of time before Cal realized Rosie probably would have been alive if it weren’t for me. I had stood in the way of them getting out the city and making a life in a better place.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling as though the words were too light to express the depth of my regret.

“It’s not your fault,” Cal chided. “I should have had the strength to go, to do what was right for him instead of thinking about what I wanted.”

The statement stabbed me in the heart. It was as though he was uttering the words that I should have told him, words he had needed to hear, and words I had been too selfish to say. While I doubted I would ever have the capacity to encourage him to go, I knew I could not live with the guilt of holding him back. As far as California was concerned, I had already caused enough damage.

“Do you have the strength to go now?” I asked, my palms beginning to sweat as I awaited his answer.

“Do you?” he questioned, sitting up to look me in my face.

“I have the strength to tell you to go.” I could hear the warbling in my voice as my weakness wrapped its hand around my throat and choked. But I don’t want you to go. Please don’t leave me. I’ll say it because I should, but I’m begging you not to believe I would be okay. I don’t want to live without you.

“I think I have the strength to listen,” Cal whispered.

We let that be the last conversation we had on the matter. We had agreed long before on how we would handle it when the day came. Every day before I left the apartment to do my rounds, I gave Cal a lingering kiss, hoping it would not be our last. And when I arrived home to find he was still there, I breathed a sigh of relief, happy for one more day, for one more night. Seven times. I left the apartment and came back to Cal seven times before I left the apartment and came back to a note.

My Dearest Viktor,