Chasing Charlie

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: A CHANGE OF HEART

  The next morning, Vince sat next to Angela in a waiting room in the oncology ward at the hospital, watching a morning talk show on the television across the warmly colored room with the blankest of expressions on his face. Angela had just taken an indefinite leave from the job she loved in order to be there for him, a turn of events for which he still harbored a great deal of guilt and unworthiness. It had been easy for him to see how out of place she already felt. Taking a week off of work to go on a family vacation and host Vince’s brother was one thing. Not knowing when she would next sit behind her desk, however, was another matter entirely.

  Angela stood aside while Vince finally had his vitals taken, then waited with him some more in his oncologist’s office. Not an examination room. From that, they both figured this wouldn’t be a checkup, just a report.

  “Is this where he…told you?” Angela asked, looking curiously around the room.

  “Yeah.” Vince assumed the position. Feet flat on the floor, elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin to prop it up. For a moment, he bowed his head.

  “You feeling okay?” Angela asked all but casually, resting a hand on his lower back.

  “Just saying a quick prayer,” Vince said.

  Angela didn’t respond verbally. She just let her hand stop where it was and scratched Vince’s back. She’d done her fair share of praying the night before. They both sat up straight and alert once the doctor entered the room and shut the door. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning,” Vince and Angela echoed. Once the oncologist was seated, Vince allowed him a few minutes of prodding for details about his symptoms. After everything was out in the open, Vince and Angela waited with bated breath while the doctor explained that he was pulling up an image of Vince’s PET scan on his computer screen.

  Angela moved closer to Vince as they both leaned in to view the image up close. The doctor held a capped pen to the screen and pointed out all five of the tumors Vince had already known about, plus three more. “The tumors you already had have grown, of course, and more aggressively than they did between your last scan and the one before it. There are also three new growths on your pancreas, right next to the original. While they’re not as big as the original tumors, they are still rather large considering that they’re new.”

  Vince and Angela positioned themselves identically, hands in praying positions over their lips. “What does this mean?” Vince asked, curling his fingers in to form a combined fist. Angela sat stock-still next to him.

  “It means that, unfortunately, your treatment isn’t working as well anymore. Given the severity of the symptoms and side effects you’re experiencing and given how adversely the painkillers and antiemetics affect you, you may want to consider stopping the chemo and radiation. If not now, then soon. Trust me when I say that you’ll probably be more comfortable off the chemo, especially.”

  “What does my prognosis look like in each case?” Vince asked monotonously.

  “Your weight loss isn’t too marked, perhaps because you don’t have a whole lot left to lose, but you’re still weak, which makes it harder for your body to handle the chemo. So there will come a point—soon if not yet—where it’s doing more harm than good. Either way, at this point I’d say two months, maybe three.”

  “No,” Angela said hotly. “You said six to eight months in January. You never changed his—”

  “Three months from now would put me at seven,” Vince reminded her. “The math checks out.”

  “How do we get four more months, then?” Angela asked the doctor. “What can we do?”

  “On your own, there’s very little you can do,” the doctor said calmly. “You can hope that I’m wrong, which I do myself quite a bit, but I don’t encourage my patients to get their hopes up. I encourage them to try their best to accept the current circumstances and use the rest of their time effectively.”

  “So he’s just supposed to give up?” Angela asked in disbelief.

  “I’m not going to,” Vince said, cupping Angela’s knee. “I think I’ll do one more round of chemo, at least.”

  “All right, then. I’ll get you an appointment for some more scans once your next round is over.”

  —

  The drive home was silent. Angela steered with one hand and stuck the thumb of the other into her mouth, chewing the nail down to the quick. She was out of tears. She was spent. Vince seemed much the same.

  Vince went to the sink for a glass of water while Angela dropped her purse with a thud onto the counter. Who was he fooling, though? However parched his throat was, a glass of water couldn’t distract him from the words “two months, maybe three” that rang through his head. He’d chided Angela for being so surprised about that, since it fit with his original prognosis, but he couldn’t help but feel exactly the same way that she did.

  Robbed.

  Neither one initiating, they met in the middle of the kitchen for an outwardly calm embrace, one that didn’t bring forth tears. For a change, they both broke down only inside, and not even completely. There was still a numbness in their hearts and minds that almost put them to sleep standing right there.

  The clock on the stove changed several times before either one of them said a thing.

  “I hate this. I’m not ready,” Angela mumbled.

  “Neither am I,” Vince replied.

  “I can’t lose you,” she said, losing her resolve, her jaw trembling until she bit her tongue by accident. She supposed that the meltdown had to happen eventually, that she wasn’t truly out of tears. She was at least glad it happened while they were alone, long before they would have to face anyone else. “I can’t do this. Not in two or three months. Not at all. There has to be a way.”

  “You heard what he said,” Vince said with some resolve. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “There has to be, Vince. I mean, come on…they can replace a human heart valve with one from a pig. They can give someone prosthetic legs and they can run and climb mountains with them. They can give burn victims all new skin. They can’t scrape some tumors off? Why can’t they help you?”

  “Because they can’t. If they could, they would. If they’d said that surgery would give me a better prognosis, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat. You know that.”

  “Maybe we should try for a baby after all,” Angela said without a single thought apart from the fact that the end of their life spent together was far too near.

  “You’re in no mindset to say something like that. We already put that topic to rest. You said you wouldn’t be happy, that it would make it harder for you.”

  “Maybe I was wrong. It’ll give me something to hold on to. I think I’ll be okay. I know I will be.”

  Vince burrowed his lips in Angela’s hair, pressing them against her crown. “Baby, you’re out of touch with reality right now. Your emotions are completely out of whack. It took you an hour to start crying when normally it takes you about five seconds.”

  “Okay, now’s not really the time to pick on me,” Angela said under her breath, pushing Vince away authoritatively with her hands on his chest. Before Vince could catch her, she was taking long strides down the hall toward their bedroom.

  “I’m not—I’m not picking on you, Angela. Come on. I’m just trying to be realistic,” he said desperately, trailing her. “You had your mind made up. You have for how many months now? You can’t decide you were wrong just because someone reminded you I’m really dying. This isn’t news. You knew how much time I had. And you know that making decisions in this state of mind isn’t wise.”

  “Just…listen to me,” she said unsteadily. “You don’t have to move on. I feel for you more than anyone, trust me when I say that. I hurt for you day in and day out. But I have to feel for myself, too, you know. If I have to lose you, if the smartest people in the world can’t figure out how to beat this disease, then I don’t see why I should just take that lying down! I need to be angry—”

&n
bsp; “And it’s perfectly fine that you are,” Vince said coolly, holding up his hands in surrender. “You haven’t really lashed out since your fight with Marshall, except when you’ve defended yourself against me, I guess…I’m actually glad that you’re angry—”

  “And I need to find some way to make this hurt less,” she finished on a much quieter note, ashamed of her shouting.

  “And changing your mind about a baby isn’t the way to do that. Please, just take a while to relax, and we’ll talk about it again,” Vince said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “You’ll just say no again.”

  “I won’t need to,” Vince insisted. “I guarantee you, you won’t want this. I’m not saying that having a baby would inherently be a bad idea, but I know how resolute you were before today, and we didn’t learn anything today that we didn’t already know. I’m begging you. Let’s shelve the topic until you’re no longer ready to strangle someone.”

  “No,” Angela said boldly. She waited a beat to make sure Vince knew she was serious. “This is only your decision insofar as choosing whether to donate to the cause. Beyond that…what I do when you’re gone…how I cope…that’s my choice.”

  “I beg to differ,” Vince said, his powerful eyebrows rising. “I have a say in how my children are raised, whether or not I’m here. Just because I wouldn’t be here for the birth of our baby doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have a vested interest in it. I know for a fact that you’ve spent a long time thinking that having our baby after I’m gone wouldn’t be good for you. And if it wouldn’t be good for you, how would it be good for the baby? For the child? Because now, more than ever, we need to remember that this wouldn’t just be a baby. It’s not some romantic gesture. This is the rest of your life, Angie. I don’t take this lightly.”

  “Do you think I do?” she said with almost hysterically. “Do you think I’d ask you to create a life with me if I didn’t think I could support it?”

  “It’s not about whether you can, it’s about whether you want to, and ever since we first talked about it, you’ve said you haven’t wanted to. You’ve said you wouldn’t want to intentionally have a child that wouldn’t have a father. Tell me what’s different now. Convince me that something’s changed between then and now, and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

  Angela dropped down onto the foot of the bed and wrung her hair in her hands. “Three months ago when I decided against a baby, I didn’t have a clue how hard this relationship would be. And today I learned that I probably have less time left with you than we’ve already had. It’s halfway over, at least. We’re on the downhill slope. I’m forced to think about life without you, because right now I can’t avoid thinking two to three months into the future if I’m a responsible adult. And when I see that far ahead, all I can see is me feeling cheated, like we didn’t do everything we could. I can’t let go of you. I need…I need something that’s yours and mine. And I’ve always wanted to be a mother. The timing has never been right, but I need to stop waiting for that because it’s never going to happen. And to be clear, I don’t just want anyone’s baby. I have the chance to have one with the person I love most in this world. I want to do this with you. As for our child not having a father around, at least I’d always have stories to tell about you. And maybe someday…someday I’ll find someone else. There, is that convincing enough?”

  Vince took a cautious seat next to Angela and unraveled her fingers from her hair. “My aim isn’t to deprive you of what you want. I just don’t want you to be stuck with something you might end up regretting having.”

  “How could I regret having a child with you?” Angela asked incredulously.

  “What if there’s something seriously wrong with it? The doctor said there’s a heightened risk of birth defects and miscarriage and all that from the chemo. Remember?”

  “I did research on that, back when we first brought the subject up. The risks are higher than normal, yes, but there’s not a ton of solid data since there are so many different types of chemo out there not to mention how many combinations of them, and every case is so different. That and a lot of people don’t even try because of all the warnings against it. Any way you slice it, though, the statistics aren’t reliable. There’s a huge self-selection bias.”

  “Yeah, smart people don’t try,” Vince muttered.

  Angela scowled at him. “Vince, I need you to take me seriously.”

  “I’m sorry, I am. Just…If you can sit down and show me the specific research you’re citing, then I’ll probably give you that argument. But what about the fact that I probably won’t even be able to make love to you for much longer? We both know we’ll have to call it quits soon. I love being with you, but you know it’s been getting difficult for me lately even though I hardly do any of the work. I mean…if we decide to do this, then I’ll try for as long as I possibly can, but I don’t know how long that’ll be. Are you sure you want to commit to trying when we might not even be able to give it a proper shot?”

  “Vince…” Angela clutched his hand tight and took a deep breath, sucking in some resolve. “This is probably it for me. Maybe what else is different between three months ago and today is that now I know I won’t be getting past this any time soon. There’s no way. So if I do find someone else and remarry, it won’t be for a while. And by then, who knows? Getting pregnant might be even riskier or more difficult than now because of how old I’ll be. And let’s not forget the fact that I really don’t think I’ll ever find someone I love as much as you, nor do I look forward to searching. Please…I know I sprung this on you really suddenly, but I mean it. I would never regret it. The only thing I’d regret is not trying. It’s like us, when we got together. We decided it would hurt, but it would’ve hurt more if we didn’t go for it. I feel the same way about this. Let’s at least try.”

  Vince tugged Angela into his arms. “What if we…froze some sperm for later and you decide once I’m gone? Maybe they could sort through and find the…good swimmers.”

  This earned him a sad laugh from Angela. “If that’s even possible, I’m sure it’s expensive. You’re talking to a woman past her reproductive prime who’s been functionally single for her entire adult life. I’ve researched these things, trust me. I know how much IVF costs. Even between both of us we don’t have that kind of money lying around. Besides…I’d rather we do this together. If…if it doesn’t happen, then okay, I can live with it. It wasn’t God’s plan. But you know what they say. You can’t win the lottery if you don’t play. Let’s just try. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Vince had a hard time believing that, within a short month at the most, a man on chemotherapy could conceive a child with a woman in her early forties who had been on birth control until just now. But he supposed far crazier things had happened, and regardless of how unrealistic Angela’s hopes were, he didn’t want to be the one to dash them. She never really asked for much from him, anyway. “Can we make a deal?” he said.

  “What kind of deal?”

  Vince sighed. “I have two conditions.”

  Angela perked up, eager to hear them.

  “One, you show me that research and convince me that this isn’t as big of a risk as my doctor made it out to be.”

  Angela nodded. “I have it all bookmarked. What else?”

  “You quit smoking. For good. Not only is it bad for you, but if you get pregnant—”

  Angela beamed. “Deal. I quit. I’ll go get my laptop.”

  “Wait. Third condition,” Vince said just as Angela got up.

  “What?”

  “We don’t tell anyone we’re trying. Our window is extremely limited and the odds are already against us. Let’s not add that kind of pressure.”

  “I agree. One hundred percent.”

  Vince didn’t feel right about their little contract, but it made Angela happier and more hopeful than he’d seen her in days. Weeks. His eyes finally welling up, he found himself bowing his head again. Please let me give her a baby. A healthy one
.

  “Are you okay?” Angela asked when she returned to their room, computer in hand, to find Vince red-eyed and weak-looking.

  He nodded. “I’m fine. I’m just…glad you have something to hope for. Okay, show me these studies. They’d better be from top-tier journals.”

  —

  “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Charlie asked a couple of long weeks later.

  Vince looked up from the pile of hospital bills and insurance statements that covered the kitchen table. After his Saturday chemotherapy session, he was fighting off the drowsiness in hopes that he could resolve some financial issues before Angela finished her late afternoon shower and turned his money problems into her own.

  “Just sorting through some stuff, buddy. Whatcha up to?”

  “I finished my math problems. Can you help me with my spelling words?”

  “Can you give me just a minute to get this figured out, buddy?” Vince replied.

  Charlie didn’t answer; he just sighed dejectedly and slumped his shoulders.

  “All right, all right, I’ll do that stuff later.” Vince pushed the statements to one end of the table, tucking them out of sight under some other mail. “Good to go?”

  Charlie laid down a sheet of paper, handed his dad his spelling list, and held his pencil at the ready. “Yup.”

  “Summer. School is almost over, which means it’s almost summer.”

  Charlie carefully wrote out his word and asked for the next.

  “Grass. The front yard was covered in thick, green grass.”

  “Hey guys,” Angela said cheerily. She emerged from the hallway dressed but with her hair still wet. “Ooh, spelling?”

  “Shh,” Charlie said with a finger to his lips. “Okay, Daddy, what’s my next word?”

  Vince chuckled. “Hey,” he said to Angela, who leaned over him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She let them finish Charlie’s list.

  “Feel like earning some extra credit?” she said.

  “Yeah! I get a perfect score on almost all my spelling tests.”

  “Okay…spell…store.”

  “That’s not a summer kind of word,” Charlie said dubiously.

  “Sure it is. We go to the store to get food for a picnic,” Angela said.

  Charlie jotted down his answer. “Next.”

  “Late. As in…don’t be late for the pool party.” Angela pressed her lips to Vince’s temple. When Charlie asked for his next word, she said, “One more. Test. As in…since you don’t go to school during the summer, you don’t have to take another test until fall.”

  Vince finally connected the dots and turned to look at her, finding her with a mile-wide smile. “Really?” he asked, his pulse racing out of control.

  “Really what?” Charlie asked, handing the paper over to his dad for checking.

  Angela tousled Charlie’s hair and gave him a kiss. “I really need to go dry my hair and get to the store. We’re out of some things.”

  —

  When Angela returned from the store with the pregnancy tests already stashed inside her purse, she found Vince and Charlie checking over the latter’s weekend math homework. She didn’t see a way for Vince to join her for the test without piquing Charlie’s interest, so she locked herself up alone in their bathroom. She waved her hands frantically back and forth, trying to shake the nerves out through her fingertips. Late doesn’t mean pregnant, she told herself repeatedly. It just means late.

  Just when she got to thinking that maybe she shouldn’t have told Vince yet, the alarm on her phone chirped that it was time to find out whether she was going to become a mother. Whether she would really ever have to say goodbye to Vince. Whether she would be able to look at a living, breathing reminder of their love, presumably for the rest of her own life.

  Vince knocked softly on the door and opened it just as Angela picked up the plastic stick from the counter. He was there just in time to give her something real to hold on to while another reality became much less likely.

  “It’s okay, we can keep trying,” he said sweetly, his arms locking her up safely.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, raking her fingers over his soft shirt and taking deep, focused breaths keep herself calm.

  “Of course,” Vince said, pushing the door shut. “I told you I’d try for as long as I could. I still have a few good goes left in me, I think. We haven’t had a fair shot yet, anyway. You haven’t been off the pill for very long and I’m sure the chemo gives me a handicap.”

  Angela gulped. “Okay,” she said quietly, lifting her face for a kiss. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry.”

  “No, I want you to tell me these things.”

  “I’m gonna go see what Charlie’s up to, see what he wants for dinner,” Angela said.

  “You sure you don’t want a few minutes? You don’t want to talk?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. If I go out there, I can keep cool. It’s staying back here that’s dangerous.”

  “Hey,” Vince said when Angela reached for the doorknob.

  “Hmm?”

  “I just…need to know you’ll be okay if this doesn’t happen for us.”

  Angela’s cheeks went pink and she felt tears threatening to burst free. “For us? Not just for me?”

  “Hey, I never said I didn’t want this. I just wanted to make sure that you were absolutely positive. I want you to be happy. And if that means making a baby, then making a baby is at the top of my bucket list.”