Chasing Charlie

CHAPTER THIRTY: A NEW DIAGNOSIS

  Vince was already seated on Wednesday morning, a cocktail of drugs coursing through his veins, when Frankie took an open seat next to him.

  “Morning,” he said pleasantly, stifling a yawn for no reason he could deduce. He’d gotten plenty more sleep after Charlie had left for school.

  “Hi,” Frankie replied with little enthusiasm.

  “Something gotcha down?” Vince asked.

  “I don’t feel good. I’ve had a headache and really bad nausea for like three days and it won’t go away…”

  Vince’s lips thinned and he frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He could certainly sympathize with her today. Over a week of feeling back on his feet and not knowing his new limitations and rarely stopping to rest had started to catch up with him. A little bit of normal morning creakiness had morphed into throbbing aches and pains just about everywhere, and he’d forgotten to refill his pain medication. He noted that he’d have to stop at the drugstore that afternoon.

  Frankie shrugged, slumping into her chair while Maria, their favorite nurse, started her up. “Want some juice, sweetie?”

  “No, thanks,” Frankie mumbled.

  “Sorry you feel so crummy on your birthday,” Maria said, rubbing Frankie’s shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything, and I mean anything.”

  “Today’s your birthday?” Vince asked, looking back and forth between both of them. Frankie nodded. “I had no idea it was coming up. Happy birthday,” he said with a smile.

  Frankie forced one in return. “Thanks.”

  “Want something to distract you from your headache?” Vince offered.

  Frankie brightened a bit more. “Sure.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t notice yet.” Vince slipped off his beanie. “Per your request.”

  “Ooh! I like it.” She did look genuinely happy.

  “Ooh, me too. Looking good,” Maria said.

  “Does Angela like it?” Frankie asked dreamily.

  “She says she does, but I think girlfriends are supposed to say that.”

  “Girlfriend?” both Frankie and Maria said together. Frankie’s mouth and eyes were wide open in unabashed shock and awe. Maria just looked impressed.

  “You said you’re never too old, right?” Vince said to Frankie with a grin. He met Maria’s eyes for a split second, both of them pleased with how overjoyed Frankie seemed. Vince was glad to give her something to think about other than illness.

  “She’s seriously your girlfriend? That’s awesome! When did you ask her out?” Frankie asked.

  Vince decided not to point out that it hadn’t really happened that way. “The Saturday before last. That was the day I last saw you, actually.” As the words left his lips, it hit him just how much had happened since he and Angela had gotten their collective act together such a short time ago.

  “Can we meet her?” Frankie asked.

  “Actually, she did ask if she could come along one day and meet you. I think she’s going to take a morning off of work tomorrow or Friday.”

  “You’d better warn her she has a fan club,” Maria said with a wink before walking away.

  “She wants to meet me? This is so cool,” Frankie raved. “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “You and Angela should get married.”

  Vince’s face froze for a moment, but he was growing used to Frankie’s offhanded manner. Charlie had been conditioning him quite well at home, too. Perhaps someday he could sail through a conversation with one of them without any hitches. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  “Aww, come on. Other terminals have done it. If she likes you enough to wanna be your girlfriend even though—well, you know…then she probably loves you. And if she loves you, why wouldn’t she wanna marry you?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “I’m ten now, and I’m way too old to buy that grownup stuff anymore,” Frankie said bluntly. “That’s just what you say when you don’t feel like explaining something.”

  Vince chuckled. “You may be onto something.”

  “Or maybe it’s not complicated at all and you’re just making excuses,” Frankie discerned. “You should really get married. I’ll even ask her for you if you want.”

  Vince shook his head, though he still smiled. “I’d rather you didn’t, but I appreciate the offer. When you get older—”

  “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,” Frankie interjected, making flapping motions with her hands. “You sound just like my mom and dad.”

  “Well, I am a dad myself.”

  “Not my dad, though. You don’t have to be all parental with me.”

  Vince smiled softly and folded his hands behind his head, leaning back. “Sorry. So, have you gotten anything for your birthday yet?”

  “Not yet. My mom and grandma are cooking my favorite dinner tonight and the whole family’s coming over for presents, and some of my friends, too. We can’t afford a big birthday party this year. I wanted to go to the movies but my parents said it’s too expensive.”

  Vince’s lips tilted. “Well, I hope you still get some things you want. And appreciate the birthdays now, no matter what kind of party you have. They aren’t so much fun when you get older.”

  “When’s yours?” Frankie asked.

  “October.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Frankie had apparently already done the math in her head.

  Vince didn’t find it difficult to smile, even given Frankie’s depressing realization. “It’s okay. Forty-six is a good age.”

  “How about ten?”

  “Ten’s a good age, too.”

  —

  “Someone’s hiding something,” Sophie surmised that morning when Angela met her at the coffee pot.

  “What makes you say that?” Angela asked casually.

  “You’re glowing.”

  Angela scoffed. “I’m freezing.” Truth be told, her cheeks were red for a much worse reason.

  Sophie shook her head, dissatisfied. “No, you’re glowing for sure. Pregnant?”

  Angela made a face. “No, I’m not pregnant.”

  “New guy you haven’t told me about?”

  “Nope, haven’t been with anyone in quite a while. Just cold. Sorry to disappoint,” Angela said, cupping her friend’s shoulder. “Gotta get to work.”

  Angela had already kept the relationship under wraps for over a week, but today, for the first time, she felt like she was on another planet where nobody knew her. Nobody knew that she had spent a few minutes weeping in her car and then in the shower this morning, wondering how much harder it could possibly get to watch the love of her life deteriorate and then beat himself up over it in the process.

  “Hey you, come in here for a sec,” Harry called from his open office as Angela got to her desk. She kept her eye rolling short and to herself before walking into his office.

  “Yeah?” she said.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. How’re you?”

  “I’m fine. Just wanted to see how you were doing. We don’t talk much anymore.”

  Angela smiled. “You’re right. But I’m fine. Hey, uh, would you mind if I took a half day tomorrow or Friday?”

  “What for?”

  “It’s…personal,” Angela said, knowing that Harry respected her enough to leave it at that. He might poke and prod like Sophie, but he wouldn’t be offended by her wanting her privacy.

  “Sure. Take a whole day if you need to.”

  Angela shook her head. “Just a half day is all I need. I’ll need the morning off. I’ll let you know which day as soon as I know. Thanks.” She made her way back to her desk and plopped down into her chair without even asking Harry why he’d summonsed her. She knew she would need to save up as much vacation time as she could. There was no telling when Vince would get to the point where he couldn’t take care of himself and Charlie anymore, but it would happen eventually. She knew she wouldn’t be able to continue working th
rough the end. She had always hoarded her vacation days, but only so much of it rolled over from year to year. Figuring out how exactly she could be with Vince and keep her job was something that had been weighing on her mind more and more over the last day or two, but she knew that if push came to shove, she would walk away from her job with ease. In her world, if that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was.

  “Everything okay?” Marshall asked, coming to his desk with a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Everything’s fine. How are you?”

  “Good.” Luckily for Angela, Marshall wasn’t feeling nosy. He got straight to his work.

  Angela almost got lost in a vivid recollection of the night before, standing out in the snow, telling Vince how much she really cared and remembering how the chills had gone on a rampage when he’d expressed the sentiment in return. But such happy memories were only allowed so much screen time before she recalled Vince huffing and puffing just to scrape her car off for her. She wasn’t sure if he’d been achy that morning, but she knew exerting himself like that couldn’t be helpful. She was certain he wasn’t feeling his best right now. She planned on calling him later that day and checking in when she had a moment alone.

  —

  Frankie had left shortly before Vince’s treatment was up, still complaining of a headache but at least still thrilled over the relationship news and the prospect of meeting Angela. When Maria came to wrap things up with Vince, she looked mildly concerned. “Your blood work from this morning came back abnormal. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Frankie,” she said.

  “What’s the matter?” Vince asked.

  “They didn’t tell me. But your doctor must’ve asked the lab to keep an eye on some levels. Something went too low or too high. You just need to stop at the reception desk on your way out and they’ll set up an appointment for you. I hope everything’s okay,” she said, softly rubbing his shoulder. “By the way, congratulations. I’m day shift the rest of the week, so hopefully I’ll get to meet this Angela. She sounds pretty special.”

  Vince gave a half-hearted smile as Maria walked over to another patient. He stopped at the reception desk as instructed on his way out.

  “Hi there, sweetie. Love the haircut, forgot to say so when you came in,” said an older woman, Wanda, who had seen Vince enough times not to bother asking for his information anymore. “Not many people can actually pull off the look, but you can. Phyllis over there wants to know if you’re seeing anyone.”

  “Taken, sorry,” Vince said with a chuckle, seeing the other staff member rolling her eyes. “Maria said there’s something wrong with my blood work, said I needed to make an appointment.”

  “Yes indeed. Lab called and said some red flags were raised.”

  “What kind of red flags?”

  “They don’t tell us anything, baby. Is your schedule open?” Wanda asked.

  “Yes, it is. I can take the soonest you have available.”

  “Good. You’re already taken care of. Your oncologist had a cancellation, has an opening in an hour. Sound good?”

  “That sounds fine. Thank you.” He stopped for his third bathroom trip that morning, then dialed Angela in the waiting room down the hall where his oncologist’s office was located, hoping she would only pick up if she could actually talk.

  “Hey,” she answered warmly. “I was just about to call you. How was chemo?”

  So she was alone. “It was okay. Frankie’s over the moon.”

  Angela let out a short laugh. “Aww, did you tell her?”

  “Needed to cheer her up somehow. It’s her birthday and she had a headache all morning.”

  “Oh, poor thing. We should get her a birthday present. Ten now, right?”

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I take it you’re not in the office?”

  “Taking a ten-minute lunch break in my car,” Angela explained.

  “Are you actually eating anything?”

  “Crackers from the vending machine. No time to go out. I don’t really wanna push it with Fitz. I know he’s pretty laissez-faire, but I did just ask for a half day later this week and I have stuff that needs to get done,” she said. “Oh, and Sophie told me I was glowing and asked me if I was pregnant. Fun morning.”

  Vince spoke with the utmost caution. “Think maybe you should just…tell them, before it gets worse?”

  “I’m chicken, so no, not right now. How’re you feeling?” Angela asked.

  “A little sore, a little tired.”

  “How much is a little?”

  “A lot,” Vince couldn’t help but admit. “I’m dead on my feet.”

  Angela sighed, troubled. “Maybe your next no-chemo week needs to be a little more relaxed.”

  “At this rate, it probably will be. Anyway, I wasn’t just calling to check in,” he said ominously.

  “Uh-oh. What’s going on?” Vince could picture Angela moving from a reclined position in her driver’s seat to sitting straight up.

  “They do blood work every morning when I come in, and my oncologist apparently put a note on my records for me to come see him if something went above or below a certain level. I don’t know. They couldn’t really tell me anything, just that the lab called up and said I needed to see my oncologist.”

  “What time is your appointment?”

  “About an hour from now.”

  “I can probably make it in time if I leave now.”

  “Whoa, hang on,” Vince said, holding a halting hand up for nobody. “It could be anything.”

  “Exactly. Someone needs to be there with you in case it’s something major. Plus, you’re tired. How’re you supposed to process and remember everything he tells you if you’re so out of it?”

  Vince sighed. “You can’t keep running out on work, though. The team’s just going to be on your case even more. And they do need you.”

  “Can you at least call and see if Jenna will come with you, then?”

  “I’d rather just have you there,” he said without thinking.

  “I’ll be there. It’s a quiet day here anyway. I’ll even tell Fitz you needed help with something and, I dunno, no one else answered their phones. He knows something’s up with me already and I’m pretty sure he’s onto the fact that it involves you. I’m not sure. But I really don’t care. You’re my number one priority right now.”

  —

  As much as Vince hated being the reason behind Angela’s stress at work and with their friends, his heart still swelled when he saw her rush into the waiting room.

  “Hey. Oh, I hope this is nothing,” Angela said, sitting down next to Vince and taking her gloves off her trembling hands.

  “Relax,” Vince said, wrapping his arms around her and laying a kiss on her cheek. “It probably is.”

  “Still, I couldn’t risk it—”

  “I know. What did you tell Harry?”

  “That you needed a ride home from chemo because you were tired and you got a ride from Jenna this morning, but her car wouldn’t start when she came to pick you up. Ugh, this hole is getting really deep,” Angela moaned.

  “I couldn’t have taken a cab instead of calling one of my friends half an hour away?”

  “See? I suck at this,” Angela said with a dismal laugh that lifted the eyebrows of a couple of other patients, some of whom looked as sick as Vince, some of whom looked like they hadn’t even found out just how much was wrong with them yet. “I ran a little late. Are you up soon?”

  “Probably going to be another half hour, they said.” Vince leaned back and straightened his arm out behind Angela, cupping her shoulder.

  “Are you feeling any better? Worse?” Angela asked. Vince shook his head at “better” and nodded solemnly at “worse.”

  “Do you have your pain pills with you?”

  “I think I took my last one last night. I didn’t even think about it.”

  “I’ll start keeping an eye on that for you,” Angela said decisively. “There’s no reason you should have
to be in pain. We can stop at the pharmacy on the way home.”

  “You’re going back to work, right?”

  Angela turned and gave Vince a look. “Seriously? You’re stuck with me the rest of the day, no matter what your blood work said and no matter why we’re here. It’s already three. I’m not going to drive all the way back out to work at this point,” she said firmly.

  “I take it Harry told you to take the rest of the day off?” Vince asked.

  Angela rolled her eyes. “Possibly.”

  Vince tugged her closer, amused at how often the tables turned in terms of who needed comfort or caring. Angela had come out here with the intention of being there for Vince, and now she was the one who needed some reassurance.

  “Can you do me a favor?” Vince asked quietly after a while.

  “Of course. Oh, do you want some coffee?”

  “Not that kind of favor. Something a little more important.”

  “I’m listening…though I rescind the ‘of course.’”

  Vince chuckled. “I just…think you should tell Harry, and sooner rather than later. I understand your reasons for not telling everyone, I really do. But in his position, he’s got a ton of things to worry about besides why you’re so out of sorts. And knowing him, I’m sure this is worrying him more than anything else right now. Even if he isn’t shocked, it’ll still be a weight off his shoulders knowing for sure what it is that’s been going on in your life. And I…honestly…hate what this is doing to you at work. You love this job, and right now you have absolutely no problem walking away from it at a moment’s notice. I don’t like that. Maybe it might be easier to stay there if you didn’t feel so uptight.”

  “I do love my job, but I love you more, so don’t worry about it.”

  “I’d worry less if you told somebody.”

  “I can’t ask someone else to keep this a secret,” Angela protested.

  “Seeing you hurting and not knowing why is a much heavier burden for Harry than keeping his mouth shut, I guarantee you. He’s one of my best friends and I’ve known him for ages. Can you trust me on this?”

  Angela shared a brief, understanding gaze with Vince before giving him a swift kiss. “Okay. Can I just wait until the next time he asks?”

  “Is it that scary?” Vince asked, his voice laced with amusement. “Come on, it’s Harry. You guys are usually pretty close.”

  “I know. I just can’t picture walking into his office and…bringing it up, you know? Hey Fitz, you know how I’ve been riding a broomstick for a month straight and won’t tell anyone why? I’m seeing Vince.”

  “Sounds pretty simple to me.”

  “Yeah, well…” Angela puffed up her cheeks and relaxed against Vince’s shoulder. “You know what, I’m sure one of the doctors here will give you a sample packet of pain pills or something. You shouldn’t have to wait until you can get to the drugstore.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Vince must have said this with enough resolve, because Angela didn’t pester him further. Suddenly, he sighed in annoyance.

  “What is it?” Angela asked.

  “Bathroom for the fourth time today. Be right back.”

  “So I haven’t been imagining things, have I?” Angela asked.

  Vince shook his head as he walked away.

  —

  “Your morning blood work was troublesome,” the oncologist started. They all ignored the examining table and took chairs instead. The oncologist didn’t even introduce himself to Angela, but Vince didn’t know how to introduce her either, so he let it go.

  “How so?” Vince asked.

  “As you may or may not know, the pancreas is responsible for, among other things, producing insulin. It’s common in pancreatic cancer patients for the pancreas to stop performing that part of its job, and that’s what’s starting to happen here. Your pancreas isn’t producing enough insulin right now, not nearly. Insulin moves glucose from your bloodstream to where it’s needed for energy, and that’s no longer happening, so it’s all staying in your bloodstream and your body’s not getting the fuel it needs. Your glucose levels are through the roof, but that’s not necessarily from unhealthy eating. Your body just has no way of processing the sugar right now.”

  Vince squeezed Angela’s hand, sensing she was just as worried as he was, even though they both already knew the name to this new problem. “Diabetes?” he asked.

  “Yes, type one. There is a slightly bright side to this, though, and it’s that it’s common with pancreatic cancer and it’s completely manageable. Have you been more thirsty lately?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “How about…urinating more frequently? Been feeling more tired than you think is explainable by the chemo?”

  “Both, yes. Not until very recently, though.”

  “Any nausea?”

  “A little here and there, like before I was diagnosed, but I just chalked it up to the cancer or chemo and popped a pill.”

  “You never told me you were still feeling nauseous,” Angela chimed in, sounding terrified, but quietly so.

  “Like I said, it was something I’d been experiencing already,” Vince said with a shrug. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay…” Angela said unconvincingly.

  The oncologist cleared his throat. “Well, these symptoms aren’t surprising to me. Your insulin and glucose levels were much closer to normal the last day you came in for treatment, but they’ve obviously changed quite suddenly. This could mean, unfortunately, that the chemo isn’t slowing down the progression of the cancer as much as we’d like. I was going to order some new scans tomorrow when I saw you, anyway, so we’ll just count today as our checkup and get those scans done ASAP and we can see what’s going on.”

  “And about the diabetes?” Vince asked, more calm now. Again he could sense Angela’s mood, and she still wasn’t relaxed. That didn’t surprise him in the least.

  “I’m going to refer you to an endocrinologist for a final diagnosis and to teach you how to manage it. I’ll get you an appointment for today with a trusted colleague of mine.”

  “Final diagnosis?” Angela said, finally opening her mouth to speak instead of merely to let it hang open in shock. “So maybe it’s not diabetes?”

  The oncologist gave her an unpromising look. “Highly doubtful that it’s anything else. This is rather textbook, except for not feeling excessively thirsty. But patients don’t always exhibit all the symptoms of a disease. Anyway,” he said, focusing on Vince now, “you’ll still see me for everything else—but diabetes management isn’t my specialty. Cancer is.”

  “Then how do you know for sure that it’s diabetes?” Angela asked.

  “Angela—”

  “No, Vince,” Angela argued. “You need to see someone who specializes in this.”

  “And I will. That’s what he’s trying to say,” Vince said, his cheeks flushing.

  “Mr. Glasser,” the oncologist said, ignoring Angela’s outburst, “that’s all I have for you, except one more thing I’d like to talk to you about in private, if you don’t mind.”

  Vince looked to Angela; she nodded, her stomach twisting and folding, and left the room.

  “What is it?” Vince asked.

  “I usually only tell my patients this, because I want it to be their choice, especially when it’s in terminal cases. I know how much of a pressure friends and family can be, and I’ve seen a lot of patients whose loved ones push them to do something they clearly don’t want to do,” the oncologist explained in a surprise move of compassion.

  “I’m listening,” Vince said.

  “There’s a clinical trial that you’re possibly eligible for, depending on how tomorrow’s scans turn out. As long as the cancer hasn’t spread to any new organs. The trial’s not even in the listings yet. Your friend strikes me as the type who searches for drug trials habitually, and that would be why she hasn’t seen it yet.”

  “What’s the purpose of the trial?” Vince asked.

&nb
sp; “It’s comparing your particular chemo cocktail to one that contains a new drug that’s in the works.”

  “What do you mean by ‘in the works’?” Vince asked with a deeply creased forehead.

  “It’s already been shown to be effective for patients in all stages in slowing the spread of the cancer. In this trial, they’d be looking at whether it’s more effective than what you’re already on. You’re currently on four different chemo drugs. This would essentially replace one of them, were you to be in the experimental group.”

  Vince clasped his hands between his knees, taking a long time to think, as his drowsiness was becoming overwhelming. “Has this been shown to be…curative?”

  “In a dozen or so stage three and earlier patients, they were able to shrink the tumors enough to put them technically into partial remission, but that only means fifty percent smaller tumors, not a cure. In a handful of the stage four patients, they survived longer than expected.”

  “So I’d still die,” Vince said matter-of-factly.

  “I won’t lead you to believe otherwise. But there is a chance that you could get more time, at least, and you could help further medical knowledge in the process.”

  “Does this other drug have the same side effects? Fewer? More?”

  “That would be part of the purpose of this trial, to compare the side effects of your current regimen to those of the new drug. I’ll be collecting some data specific to the study as well as asking my usual questions. Neither one of us will know which cocktail you’re on. There’s a fifty percent chance you’d be on the same regimen you are now,” the doctor noted.

  “Of course. I understand that. Did any of the stage four patients…die sooner than expected?”

  “Only one, by a month, if I recall correctly, and that could’ve been due to a number of factors besides the drug.”

  “Out of how many people?” Vince asked.

  “Sixty.”

  That meant a theoretically less than two percent chance of cutting his time shorter if he were to be put on the new drug, but a greater chance of prolonging his stay, and a greater still chance of nothing changing at all. Vince couldn’t ignore the appeal of more time with Charlie and Angela, even though he knew it probably wouldn’t be quality time. He just couldn’t picture leaving them sooner than he had to.

  “This is a big decision, but it’s not one that can wait for very long. You do understand already that your time is limited.” And there it was again, the oncologist Vince knew, returning from his fugue-like state, back to the real world where every patient was just another case.

  “I understand. Do you know if my insurance would cover this?”

  The doctor smiled, almost victoriously. “This is the part you’ll really like. The cost of the chemotherapy, whichever cocktail on you’re on, and any scans and lab work they order, is all covered by the research institute.”

  To Vince, it sounded too good to be true, but maybe it was his turn for some happy news. Even when he set his sharp mind to it, he couldn’t figure out a flaw in the plan. “I’d like to sign up.”

  “Great. I’ll get you the forms as soon as registration is open, as long as your scans don’t show metastasis to any new organs. We’ll know sometime within the next few days.”

  —

  “I’m so sorry for how I acted back there,” Angela muttered while she and Vince walked out of the oncology ward and to an elevator to get them up to endocrinology.

  “It’s okay. I’m on edge too, trust me. Let’s just…get this over with and go home.”

  Angela didn’t harp on Vince about his cavalier attitude. Instead she decided to take matters into her own hands, to walk into the endocrinologist’s office ready to learn right alongside Vince, to be a second set of eyes and ears. She couldn’t help but think that there would come a time when Vince wouldn’t be capable of managing, among other things, his diabetes—if that was indeed what he had—and that she would need to learn sooner or later. No better time than the present. “Was the uh…private moment something you would rather keep private?” she asked.

  “Just wanted to take a minute to ask me how I was doing alone,” Vince explained. He had decided immediately that only he would know about the trial. The last thing he wanted to do was give anyone but himself false hope. “Says he sees a lot of patients shut up around their friends and family, especially when they start running the show.”

  Angela took that as a jab. “I was so overbearing in there. Again, I’m sorry—”

  “It’s okay. I understand. I’ll learn how to stick myself in the stomach and then we can go home and unwind a little. And I’ll need to find a way to keep this hidden from Charlie. He hates needles.”

  “Then wouldn’t this be a good way for him to get over that? To see you give yourself shots several times a day and not make a big deal about it? You’re his hero.”

  It was Vince that stopped their walk this time and Angela that had to turn around and backtrack to meet him. “What?” she said.

  “This is why I have you around,” Vince said, pressing his lips to her cheek.

  “I thought it was because of my casserole skills.”

  Vince laughed and tightened his grip on Angela. “That, too.”

  Angela wore a broad smile as she backed away. She touched her nose to his. “I love you.”

  All of a sudden self-conscious of the public display of affection, no matter how innocent it was, Vince replied quietly, “I love you, too.”

  —

  “I really don’t want to,” Vince said, holding the insulin pen close to his side, where he had pinched what little fat was left.

  “You did it at the doctor’s office and after dinner already,” Angela reminded him. “It’s just a pinch.”

  Vince sighed and stuck himself, pushing down on the end of the pen. “Okay, not so bad,” he admitted, breathing out heavily.

  “See? Not so bad. I almost want to try it myself,” Angela said, grabbing at the pen.

  Vince held it out of her reach. “Hey, get your own diabetes.”

  “Daddy, someone’s at the door,” Charlie said, walking into his father’s bedroom.

  “Thanks, buddy.” Vince looked at the pen, not sure what to do with it. “I still can’t—”

  “Put the cap back on and twist off the needle,” Angela said. “Here, I’ll take care of it.”

  Charlie finally reacted to the needle once he saw what it was that Angela was holding. Vince had shown it to him earlier that evening, but Charlie hadn’t wanted to watch the after-dinner shot of fast-acting insulin. Vince had just now taken the daily slow-acting dose in his bedroom to avoid upsetting him.

  “Is that the die-betes shot?” Charlie asked, gulping.

  “Yup? See, the needle’s really small,” Angela said. “Your daddy didn’t even flinch.” Angela showed Charlie the pen and his face screwed up into a cry.

  “Buddy, it’s okay,” Vince said.

  “I’ll take care of it. My fault,” Angela said, giving Vince permission to leave her with a now crying Charlie so he could answer the door. Vince hurried out of the bedroom. “Charlie, baby, it’s fine. It’s really not that scary. Next time you should watch your daddy do it. It really doesn’t hurt.”

  Charlie shook his head violently, his hair flying about. “Nuh-uh!”

  “Okay, okay,” Angela whispered. “Come here.” She stooped down and pulled him into a hug. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll put it away, though. Then we can go see who’s here. But first I need a hug from you. I haven’t gotten one yet today.”

  Though he certainly didn’t like the sound of Charlie crying, Vince trusted Angela with him and loved the sound of her trying her best to console him. When he reached the door, a quick glance through the peephole told him he had a visitor who had shown up earlier than expected.