The Last Prescription

The bottle sat on her nightstand for three months after Marcus died. A generic amber cylinder with a white child-proof cap, filled with small white tablets he'd never finish. Vitamin D3, the label read. For bone health, the doctor had said, though Marcus's bones weren't what needed healing.

Elena had started taking them instead. One every morning with a full glass of water, standing at the sink where they'd once stood together, hip to hip, brushing teeth. The water here was different from their apartment in the city — softer, somehow, with a faint metallic taste that reminded her she was alone in her childhood home.

'You're obsessing,' Sarah told her over drinks that Elena couldn't bring herself to drink. 'It's been six months, El. The vitamins won't bring him back.' Sarah meant well. Sarah had always meant well, even when she'd suggested Elena take some time for herself during the funeral planning. Even when she'd hinted, none too subtly, that Marcus's illness hadn't been fair to Elena.

But Sarah didn't understand about the vitamins. They weren't about bringing Marcus back. They were about the last conversation they'd had, when he'd pressed the bottle into her hand and said, 'Take these. Your bones are going to need to be strong.' He'd smiled then, that terrible soft smile he'd developed in the final months, like he knew something she didn't.

The water in the glass rippled as Elena's hand trembled. That was the other thing Marcus had said: 'We're not just friends anymore, are we? We never really were.' She'd laughed, hadn't answered. They'd been friends since college, roommates, the person each called first with news good or bad. And then, somewhere in the gray landscape of his diagnosis, something had shifted without either naming it.

Now she swallowed the vitamin with tap water, swallowed the memory of his hands, his voice, the way he'd looked at her that last afternoon. The doctor had prescribed these tablets to someone who'd never use them. Marcus had prescribed her this grief, this clarity that arrived too late to matter.

Elena set down the glass. Water spots bloomed on the marble counter like forgotten tears. She would finish the bottle. And then, perhaps, she would finally learn what it meant to be strong.