There’s a long silence that unnerves me. “Esben is with you?” she asks.
“Yes. Why?”
“Good. I want you to have him with you for this.” Her voice has an unfamiliar monotone, a weakness to it, and my chest tightens. “This is going to hurt.”
“Steffi.” I sit down on the bed. “Tell me.”
“Allison, you are my best friend. You always have been, and you always will be. And I know that you love me, so I’m going to ask you to listen and let me get through this.”
“What are you talking about?” A panic begins to rise, and my heart is pounding with a beat I cannot keep up with. I suddenly know where this is going. The actual content doesn’t process yet; the words don’t permeate my thoughts yet, but I know.
“This is going to be rough for me to get out. Tell me that you will listen and let me finish. As my best friend, you need to do this for me.”
I inhale and exhale so roughly, and I already feel the pain that is coming. “Yes.”
“I’ve been lying to you, Allison. I haven’t been on a cruise. I’m not moving to a new apartment.”
I’m so confused. “Okay, so what—”
“You know that when I was a kid, I had cancer. I haven’t told you everything about that, though. There was a tumor in my shoulder. I had surgery to remove it, then really nasty radiation and chemo. The chemo was awful, but it helped treat the cancer. After that, I got tons of scans and lab work and heart testing done for years, and everything was clean for a long time.”
I can hear her gather her words, and I clasp a hand over my mouth to muffle my need to cry out.
“With the kind of chemo I had, once-normal cells are triggered to overproliferate, and people can end up with too many white cells. It saved me at the time, but there’s always a risk that it can cause other cancers down the line. And that’s what’s happening.”
“No,” I say. “No!” I am calm but forceful. I will not allow this. Not now, not ever.
“This cancer I have now is deadly. It’s called AML leukemia, which stands for acute myeloid leukemia. It’s as serious as it gets.”
I rally, and I do not panic. And I hyperfocus on the facts, because that’s all I can do. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”
“There is no plan. There is nothing to do.”
“What do you mean?” My vision grows blurry, so I shut my eyes.
“The only option is the sort of chemo I had before, and, even though I was young, I remember that hell enough to know that I won’t do it again. No one likes any kind of chemo, but this particular kind that I had and that I’d need again? Never. I won’t do it. It’s not an option.” The finite quality of her tone scares me to my core. “I’m taking some medication, but it’s not going to do much.”
I won’t accept this. We will not allow this cancer to take her down. Not after everything she’s been through and everything she’s triumphed over. I begin to pace the room. “You have to do the chemo. I’ll come out there. I’ll stay with you, and I’ll get you through this. I know it’ll suck—I get that—but we can do this.” I’ve got moments left before I fall apart, so she needs to take me up on this.
She’s too quiet and soft when she answers. “Allison, no. I’m not doing the chemo. And I would never let you watch me go through it. Even if I could put up with how awful it is, it would only buy me an additional month or two on top of the limited time I have. There’s no point.”
A month or two.
My arm stretches out to grab the desk. I’m going to collapse. This is not happening. I have got to be in the midst of a vivid and graphic nightmare. I will wake up. I will wake up, and this will not be happening.
“Steffi . . . Steffi . . .” I am losing air. I cannot breathe.
“So, listen to me, Allison. Listen to every word I say to you.” I know that she’s tearing up, and the break in her words guts me, because I have never heard her be anything but stoic and tough as nails. “I hate doing this to you. I hate that more than anything that’s happening to me. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I couldn’t.”
“When you came out here.” I stand now and begin furiously pacing from the bedroom to the living area and back, as if I can outrun this. “Honey, you knew you were sick then?”
“Yes. I’d just found out. I didn’t want to see how you’d look at me, so I put off telling you until I had to. I couldn’t take seeing your face. How you were going to hurt. But I’m tired all the time now, I feel awful, and you need to know what’s happening.”
I control my voice and my words. “Steffi, what can I do? There must be something. I can fly out there immediately. I’ll do anything for you. Let me help. We can find another doctor, another treatment center. We will fix this, okay?”
“Shit, Allison, there is no fixing this!” The force of her response slams against me. “There is no fixing this. This is the end. I’m going to die.”
The entirety of what she’s saying begins to wash over me, and I cannot do anything but freeze in place. Time stops, my heart stops, life stops. “How long?”
The roar of the silence is excruciating. Steffi finally answers. “A few months. Maybe more, maybe less.”
The sound that rips from my chest must be loud and alarming, because Esben is at my side. Without knowing how I got there, I find myself on the floor, with my head pressed into the carpet, my fingers gripping the phone hard. Esben’s hands are on my waist, trying to pull me up. But I cannot move.
“So, don’t talk, Allison,” she continues all too calmly. “Here’s the deal, and I’m so sorry for this, but it’s what has to happen. It’s what I need.” Now her words are shrouded in heartache. “This is going to be the last time that we talk to each other.”
“No! No!” I slam my hand against the floor. “Steffi, no!”
“Yes. It’s going to get really bad, and I don’t want you to see me deteriorate that way. And, no, don’t try to talk . . . stop it. Don’t talk,” she warns me when I cannot control myself. “More than you having to see how this disease is going to take me down, I cannot worry about you and what this is doing to you. I can’t.” She’s wrecked—I know this—but she continues in a straightforward tone. “This is my choice, and I get to have that. I haven’t been able to make many choices in my life, but I at least get to choose how I handle my death. And you’re going to respect what I’m asking of you. I love you, and I will always love you, but we are saying good-bye right now.”
My world goes black.
“No!” I scream. “No! Don’t shut me out! I can help! I can help!”
There are sounds behind me, a touch on my back, maybe. I think that Esben’s hands are on me, trying to pull me into him, but I’m not sure.
“I love you so much, Allison,” I hear her say. “Don’t forget that. But I need to do this alone. Don’t call me, don’t text. Don’t try to be in touch at all. It’ll just make it harder on me, okay? Every call or text would be about cancer. About how I’m feeling. Or there’d be a freakin’ dance around cancer that I don’t have the energy for. I already feel like shit all the time, and it’s going to get a lot goddamn worse, and I do not want to feel like I have to tell you all about it. Because you love me, you’d want to help, and you can’t. You can’t do anything. No one can. I have great doctors and great nurses, and . . . everyone is taking care of me as best they can. I’m in good hands. It’s just this disease. It’s nobody’s fault, but there’s no saving me. There’s not.” Steffi is so blunt, and a knife through my chest would hurt less. “Please. I love you. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. A sister, really. And I’m so glad you’ve found Esben and that you’re in love and have someone to get you through this. And you have Carmen, right? And other friends? You can do this. Do you hear me? You can do this. You have to.”
It’s hard to hear myself over my devastation. “Stop saying good-bye! Don’t you do this. Jesus, Steffi, don’t! I love you. God, I love you so much. Don’t you dare say good-bye! This isn’t right—”
/> “Esben is with you?” She asks this again with too much serenity.
I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything. Where I am, what I’m hearing. “Esben?” It’s hard to talk though my thready breathing. “You’re here?”
“I am,” he says firmly.
Finally, I notice how tight his hold is on me. I stop fighting it and let him lift me from the floor so that I’m resting against his chest. “Yes,” I tell Steffi. “He’s here.”
“Good. Hold on to him. He’s going to get you through this. That makes it better for me.” Steffi is so calm and takes so long before she speaks again that it panics me more. “This hurts. I told you it would. I wish there was some better way to prepare you, but there isn’t.” Steffi’s voice grows raw, and she gets assertive in a way that sends ice down my spine. “I’m going to hang up now. I need to. Please know that I hate this as much as you do. If I thought I could tolerate not cutting you out, I would. But it will make this all easier on me. Tell me that you understand this.”
“No!” I am in pieces. “It’s not right. Let me be with you! You have always done everything alone. Don’t do this alone,” I beg.
“I especially need to do this alone, so, stop. I’m asking you to stop,” she says sternly. “Tell me that you understand. Tell me that you’ll live your life with everything you’ve got and that you will not let this stop you. You will be happy, okay? You’ll do that for me?” She’s begging me, but there’s so much control in how she does so. “Give me that, Allison. Please. And promise me that you’ll let me go.”
There is infinite desperation in what she asks of me, and I know that I have to give her what she needs. If I flew out, she’d refuse to see me. I know her. I realize now that Steffi has always stubbornly refused my help, anyone’s help. If I’d understood that years ago, maybe I could have pushed more for her to let me in. But her walls are clearly a thousand times thicker than mine ever were. After everything my friend has done for me, there is no choice now but to give her what she wants, no matter how much I hate it. “Okay,” I say through tears. “Yes. I understand. I promise. I will do everything you want. I love you. I love you, Steffi.”
“Be brave. Be brave. Be brave. You can do this.”
She hangs up, and I begin to truly lose my ability to breathe. My ability to scream, however, is in full force.
Esben holds me with my back against his bare chest as I sob, and he’s the only reason I can sit up. I cannot do anything but heave sobs and succumb to searing pain.
This is the first time that I understand the term “blinding pain,” because the agony I’m in has cut off my vision, and I break free from Esben and crawl forward, groping for anything to break. I hear the couch thump hard against the floor several times, and I must be doing this, but I don’t know for sure. Then there’s the sound of glass shattering, then rattling and a crash as I careen around the room, my howling piercing my own ears.
“Allison, no. Baby, no.” Esben grabs me and pulls me in, taking something from my hand before he has me fully in his arms.
I want to cling to him, but my legs give out before I can. As I drop to the floor, Esben catches me in his arms and carries me to my bed. Gently, he sets me down and lies, facing me. My hands claw at him, and I’m crying and pleading. “Make this stop! You have to make this stop!” I call out Steffi’s name over and over. Suddenly, I stop and wipe my eyes and look up at Esben. “Wait. You can fix this. You fix everything. So do it. You have to do something.”
He shakes his head in confusion. “What is going on? Steffi?”
I shove my hands hard against him. “She’s sick again. Just tell me that you’ll fix this, goddamn it! Do something! Someone will know how to help her.”
Esben exhales loudly.
“She says it’s terminal, but that can’t be right. We can’t let it be right. Fix it. Change things back to the way they were. You can do anything, so do this for me. Please, oh please, Esben . . .”
He pulls me in, and I try to fight him, but I’m too spent now. “I wish I could . . . ,” he says.
“No, no, no. Don’t say that! Don’t say that! Please, just this one thing! You’re magic; you can find a way.” Now I am crying again, because I know that I’m being crazy and asking the impossible.
“I would do anything for you. I would. This just isn’t something I can fix. God, I’m so sorry.”
I fall apart. For hours, I cry and choke on anguish while Esben holds me. Eventually, my tears give out, my voice goes, and my throat is so raw that my body battles against my mind and shuts down my crying. There is nothing left in me now.
CHAPTER 25
RESCUE
It takes three weeks before I become emotionally functional again. Though I’ve been going to class and getting my work done, outside of that, I’ve alternated between being numb and grief-stricken. The wind has been knocked out of me, and it’s taking forever to breathe again, but I’m trying. I know it’s what Steffi wants. She would hate knowing the impact her illness is having on me, so I’ve got to pull myself out of this despondency however I can. Kerry and Carmen have both been great, being patient with me and letting me cry when I need to. It’s so important that I have these new friends, but I am constantly reminding myself that I’m not replacing her with either of them. That thought does try to push through more often than I’d like, though. And Esben’s friends Jason and Danny are bear-hugging me so often that I’m surprised I’m not bruised. And with each bit of comfort I’m offered, I think how Steffi has no one comforting her. Just because that’s her own doing and her conscious choice doesn’t make her isolation any easier to swallow.
Three days after Steffi called me, I told Simon. He’s been wanting to come up, but I’ve been putting him off. It almost feels as though seeing him would make me break down again, because our shared love for her is so great.
I wake up this Saturday morning in February, and I’m determined to treat it like any normal day. I must.
The spare room is again full of unopened packages from Simon, and the scene reeks of emotional backlog. It’s time to clear out some of my pain, so I start with something simple and open the biggest box first.
A few days after Steffi’s call, I learned I’d smashed the coffeemaker and glass pot and also overturned the minifridge, shattering bottles inside. I don’t remember this, and Esben cleaned everything up before I saw the shambles I’d created. I think I broke more than I know, but I really don’t care. The coffeemaker, however, I have actually missed, and every time I automatically look for it and it’s not there, I am hit with yet another reminder and another hit of pain.
Methodically, I now unbox the new coffeemaker and mugs and set them up. Everything looks as it did before, but that’s just a trick of the eye, because nothing is the same.
I will be brave. I will be brave. I will be brave.
I will keep going.
It’s still early enough in the day for me to feel as though it’s salvageable. That maybe I can try for one day in which I don’t break down every minute. Esben left while I was still sleeping, and I’m not sure where he’s gone. I spend an hour cleaning up my space, changing the sheets, taking a shower, and drying my hair, and then I make a pot of coffee, as though my entire soul is not shredded.
It’s a little after eleven when Esben lets himself into my room, still shaking snow from his hair.
He brightens when he gets a look at me. “Hey, baby. You look good.”
“I showered and put on something besides sweatpants.” I try to smile. “I figure it had to happen sometime.”
Esben hangs up his coat and then takes me in his arms. “I know this is a nightmare.” He rubs my back for a bit. “Still nothing?”
He checks in all the time, even though we both know that I won’t hear from Steffi.
I lean against him and shake my head. “No.”
Every day, I call her. Every single day. I’ve been hoping that she’ll change her mind, that she’ll let me in, but she won’t pick up
my calls, and I always go right to voice mail. Half the time, I leave messages, and half the time, I don’t, because none of my words so far have changed her mind. I’ve had Esben and Simon try to call her, too, but she’s simply cut herself off from the world. Her social-media accounts are all shut down, and e-mails bounce back as undeliverable.
I take a very long breath. “I think it’s time to stop. This is what she wants. I have to accept it.”
“Yes, I think so,” he says gently.
“But I imagine what she’s going through, how she’s feeling. I wonder if she’s in pain, who is taking care of her.” It hurts to breathe when I say this. “How bad things are now. How . . .” I start to choke up. “How long she has. Is she scared? Is she lonely, sad, angry? Will . . .”
God, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. That I have to prepare myself this way.
“Do you think someone will call me when . . . when she’s gone?”
“Yes. I’m positive. Steffi will make sure of that.” The confidence in Esben’s voice helps to reassure me some.
“Steffi has always been like a selfless mother who would do anything to take care of her child. She has always worried about me, watched over me, more than she would let me worry about and watch over her. Always. It’s not right. I got to save her from pain once before, when I ripped that guy off of her. I want to do the same now. Rip the cancer out of her. Rip the hurt away. Esben, I would trade places with her in a heartbeat, I would.”
“I know you would. But this is who she is, and you can’t change that, especially not now. How she’s handling this is her choice. If pushing you away and taking this on alone gives her some kind of comfort, then you need to allow her that.”
I nod and focus on staying calm. “I need distraction. I need to think about something besides this. Just for a while.”
“Okay. What do you want to do?”
The feel of being in his arms, the now-familiar safety, makes me want more. More of him. So, I lift my mouth to his and kiss him. “This. I want to do this.” My hands rub over the front of his shirt, up to his shoulders, and then I untuck his shirt.