180 Seconds

I eat in the terminal. At least I think I do. Esben has gone to get coffee, I’m pretty sure, so I wipe my hands and call Steffi.

  I’m relieved when she picks up almost immediately. “You made me a celebrity.”

  “Oh. I guess we did. I’m sorry about that. Posting was the only way . . . we needed help, Steff. With spring break and—”

  “I love it,” she says. I know by her tone that she’s smiling, but I’m surprised by the strength in her voice. “It’s totally badass. I’m . . . I’m following the posts and comments. So awesome. I look hot in that picture.”

  I laugh genuinely. “You do. You always look hot.”

  “Not right now. Ignore that when you see me.”

  “Of course.” I check the time. “Our flight to O’Hare leaves soon. I’m going to hang up to help figure out about a next flight. I’ll let you know as soon as we find one, okay?”

  “Okay. I’m starving. Maybe Rebecca will get me some In-N-Out Burger. A big burger and a strawberry shake would rock. I’m going to ask her.”

  “You’re . . . hungry?”

  “Famished. I slept for a while, and I’m feeling much better. You’ll have to get In-N-Out when you’re here. You’ll freak over it. Hey, did you know that all these people are tagging me on Facebook and Twitter? Lots of supercool foster kids. And, like, a gazillion people who have cancer and are rooting for me. So crazy, right? I’m digging this.”

  “Okay.” I’m a little confused. “Love, Esben is back with coffee. I need to see if he’s heard from Kerry.”

  “All right. Tell him thanks for making me famous. I want pictures of everything, okay? And video. Post it all, or at least show me when you get here. I don’t want to miss anything. I can’t wait to see you. I love you so much, and I’ve missed you. You’ll have to catch me up on you and Esben, but obviously things are supergood.” She is rambling so fast that I can hardly keep up. “Oh, one favor? See if he can get Colton Haynes to tweet me. I love that cutie. Oh, oh! Or Norman Reedus! Or Dave Grohl! You know how I love older men! God . . . can you imagine? They’re so crazy sexy.”

  I laugh again. “You got it.”

  “Off to ask for, like, five burgers. Bye, Allison. Talk to you soon!”

  I hang up and look at Esben. “Huh.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Something is weird. Steffi is . . . chipper. I’m going to call one of her nurses.”

  “We’re boarding soon, so be quick.”

  I call Steffi’s nurse Jamie, and she answers almost immediately. “Allison,” she says warmly. “Steffi gave me your number. I was debating whether or not to call you.”

  “I just talked to Steffi. She . . . she sounds energetic. And hungry. Sort of happy, even. Is this a good sign? I know she can’t really be getting better, but . . .”

  There’s a brief silence. “This happens on occasion,” Jamie explains. “I’ve seen it plenty. Patients get a burst of energy. A little euphoric. Kind of like an adrenaline rush. It can last a few hours or even a day or longer, but, no, I’m sorry to tell you that it’s not a good thing. It’s . . . a sign that the end is coming.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I walk numbly into the boarding line.

  “But for right now, she’s feeling good. This burst she’s in, it’s because she’s very excited to see you. Let’s focus on that. It’s nice to see her so happy.”

  “Okay,” I say again. “You’re going to watch over her?”

  “Yes, I promise. Rebecca and I are here all night. Both of us care a lot about Steffi, and we’re doing everything to make sure she’s comfortable.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot. Jamie, I have to go. We are boarding now and will land in Chicago at about ten.”

  “Everyone here is following you guys online. You can do this.”

  We hang up, and Esben and I work our way to our seats on this second flight.

  “Please have Wi-Fi. Please have Wi-Fi,” he says over and over.

  “Any leads from Kerry or Jason?” I rest my head against the window.

  He snatches the card from the seat pocket, and this time he smiles. “Not yet. But we’ve got Wi-Fi. Why don’t you try to sleep a bit, and by the time you wake up, I’m going to have something for you.”

  I’m too tired and stressed to disagree, so I hand him my coffee. There’s no way he’s going to do anything but stay online for the duration of this flight, so he needs the caffeine more than I do. “Sleep would be good. Esben?” I can’t help but smile. “Steffi would like Dave Grohl and some other celebrities to tweet her.”

  “Yeah?” He laughs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Also?”

  “What is it, sweets?”

  I turn my head and look into his eyes. “You’re astounding.”

  He runs the back of his hand over my cheek. “No. The world is astounding. I told you people are mostly good. They really are.”

  “I just didn’t grasp . . .” Words truly fail me. “I couldn’t have begun to predict . . .”

  “I know,” he agrees. “As much wonderful stuff as I’ve seen before, this outweighs it all. It’s the silver lining, maybe.”

  “It is,” I say firmly. “It is.”

  Just after the captain announces we’ve reached cruising altitude, I zonk out and sleep dreamlessly, for which I am grateful. I wake to Esben gently shaking me. We’ve already landed.

  “Listen,” he says. “The flight attendant is talking about you and Steffi.”

  I rub my eyes. At the front of the cabin, a woman stands, holding the PA. She catches my eye. “This song goes out to Allison and Steffi. Love and peace from the airline and all of our passengers. We’re with you.”

  Softly and beautifully, she begins to sing “Amazing Grace.”

  Esben holds my hand, and, together, we listen. I inhale sharply when a few passengers join in and again when I realize that the entire cabin is singing. My heart is simultaneously breaking and soaring. The overwhelming level of humanity and care coming from strangers is simply daunting. Because I know this is important, and that I’ll want to see it later, I ask Esben to film it, which he does.

  Outside the gate, I find the nearest bathroom, where I splash cold water on my face. I will not cry now. It’s not the time.

  As I’m drying my hands, I hear Esben call into the women’s room. “Allison? We’ve got to go. Now!”

  I move quickly, and I start running beside him without question.

  “We have to get to Midway. It’s about forty minutes from here,” he says. “Flight leaves in fifty-five minutes.”

  “Oh no.”

  “We just need to haul ass.” He guides us through travelers to a moving walkway where we continue to run and dodge people. “We’ve got a ride, though, and I think you’ll like it.”

  This airport is frustratingly huge, and it feels like forever before we reach baggage claim. Suddenly, he stops and casts his eyes over the crowd, searching hard.

  “What are we looking for?”

  He smiles, bends over to both catch his breath and laugh, and then points. “God, this is nuts. But there.”

  A man in a suit and black chauffeur hat is holding up a sign with our names on it.

  “A limo? Is that a limo driver?” This is crazy.

  “It certainly is,” he says. “It certainly is. Come on.”

  The man shakes both of our hands quickly. “I’m Leon. The cop outside let me leave the car out front, but he only gave me five minutes. Hurry.”

  We get outside to the white stretch limo in record time, and even after we pull out of the airport, I’m still not processing what’s happening. Dance music is blasting, and I am officially on sensory overload. There are slick black leather seats, colored lights on the ceiling, two bottles of champagne, and . . . garter belts around the bottle necks.

  “Leon?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “This limo? Um, was it scheduled for something else tonight?”

  “A bachelorette party, ma’am. The bride-to-be transfer
red her rental over to you.”

  “That was very generous of her,” I reply. “Please thank her!”

  Esben puts his phone in front of me. “You can thank her yourself. She used the hashtag for you and Steffi and wished us safe travels.”

  I reply to the bachelorette’s tweet with a selfie from the inside of the limo. What a crazy sweet thing for her to do. Next, I send a video of me lying down on the seats to Steffi. Heading to Midway in style! I write.

  Holy crap! she texts back. I just read about this online. I can hardly keep up with all of the comments. Drink some of that champagne for me!

  “So we have tickets to Los Angeles?” I ask.

  Esben nods. “We do. A nice young couple. They just . . . gave up their seats. Just because they’re awesome.” He sighs with a happiness of sorts. “If you can believe it, the pilot is going to meet us at security and help get us through. He can only wait so long, though. It’s going to be tight.”

  “I can’t believe this is working.” I’m still in shock.

  “I know. I can’t either.”

  We’re more than thirty minutes into the ride when Leon says from up front, “Sir? Ma’am? We have a problem.”

  The car slows to a stop. There are red brake lights everywhere.

  Before I have a chance to say anything, Esben is online. He finishes typing and looks at me. “Say a prayer.” Then he opens the moonroof and pokes his head out.

  “What are you doing? Esben!” I stand, too, and take in the horrendous traffic jam. “Christ. No. No, not now. Please.”

  “Come on. Come on. Come on.” He’s facing the cars behind us.

  “What are you doing? We’re stuck. We’re just stuck.” I rub my face. “We’ll have to . . . hope for a later flight.”

  “This is the last one out tonight.”

  “Oh God.”

  “We’re getting on it,” he says stubbornly. “Just . . . just wait.”

  The cars behind us begin to blur into one. This is over. We won’t reach Steffi. The honking of horns is deafening, the endless sea of lights depressing. I hear the roar of some kind of engine, but I don’t care what it is.

  “There!” Esben shouts excitedly. “There!”

  I stare in shock as four tough-looking motorcyclists pull up next to us. “You must be Allison and Esben. Heard you two need a lift.”

  The guys look to be in their midfifties, all with thick graying beards, denim and leather outfits, heavy boots, and bandannas knotted around their heads. Tattoos are everywhere. They’re also all wearing sunglasses, despite the time of night.

  “Oh boy,” Esben says.

  “You’re definitely posting this insanity,” I say with a laugh. “Steffi won’t forgive us if we don’t.”

  “You coming or not?” The first biker holds out a helmet.

  “We’re coming!” I duck down. “Thank you, Leon. Thank you so much.” I swing open the door and walk to the biker, who revs his engine. I glance back at Esben, who shakes his head with amused acceptance.

  “All set there?” My new driver asks gruffly. “Grab on tight, sweet cheeks. We’ll be taking the breakdown lane. Could get a little hairy.”

  I straddle the bike and clutch on hard to this man’s mammoth waist. “Okay. What’s your name?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He revs his engine again. “Here we go.”

  A surge of fear courses through me, and I shut my eyes for a moment. We are, for sure, speeding, but I’m comforted by the fact that my driver is obviously in total control of his bike as he flies us past unmoving cars. Without these bikers, we’d never make it to Midway. Never.

  Just as we pass the area where traffic seems to ease up—there’s no sign of an accident or anything, just a damn unexplained traffic clog—a siren rings out behind us.

  “Here we go!” my biker cries out rather triumphantly and hits the gas. “Hang on, little lady! Hang on!”

  Oh my God.

  A motorcycle cop is chasing us.

  We bang out a turn, and soon the entrance to the airport is ahead. We screech to a stop, with the police officer’s siren still audible but lagging behind.

  “Go!” the biker yells at me. “Go, go, go!”

  I scramble to get off the bike, and before I can even get my helmet off, he’s gone.

  I’m still standing on the departure sidewalk when Esben taps me hard on the shoulder. “We need to move. Allison! Now!”

  I turn and run with him into the terminal. There’s no time to think about what just happened, and we only just make our flight to LAX. After we land, we’re picked up by an off-duty Uber driver, then sail to Cedars-Sinai with such ease. Almost too much. Maybe I was secretly hoping for another problem to extend the inevitable, but we are here now. A wave of sadness washes over me.

  After hours and hours of chaos, we are here. Our car pulls up at the entrance, and I am unspeakably moved by what I see.

  There are at least thirty people outside. Some hold candles, some have signs with #ALLISONANDSTEFFI, or #SCREWCANCER, or #BESTFRIENDS. Some have flowers, stuffed animals, or balloons. They are quiet and sweet and radiating love so entirely that I hardly know what to do as we walk past them. There are hugs and a few soft words. Mostly, there is a circle of serenity. These people are here to guard Steffi against as much pain as they can.

  “Will you take a picture for Steffi? She’ll want to see this.” I am almost numb. The love that has been thrown our way today is immeasurable. And no one wants thanks. No one wants attention for his or her part in getting us here. Every single tag that I’ve seen today is fueled by nothing but true heart. I stagger a bit as I walk. “Take a picture,” I say again.

  “Of course,” Esben says. “This is beautiful.”

  When we step through the front doors, I brace myself, preparing to see Steffi soon.

  However, I am not prepared to see the two people who call my name from the waiting area. When they reach us, I am breathing hard, seething with anger, rage from past pain that I almost can’t control.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I spit out. “How dare you? How dare you?”

  “Allison,” the woman says, with tears in her eyes. She was clearly going to lean in for a hug, but my words stopped her short. “We read about Steffi online. We just happened to be in San Diego. Obviously, we drove up when we heard.”

  “We were hoping to—” the man starts.

  “Hoping to what? What exactly were you hoping to do, huh?” I’m near screaming.

  “What’s going on? Who are they?” Esben touches my arm with concern.

  “Cal and Joan Kantor,” I say, shooting a venomous look their way.

  “Steffi’s foster parents?” he says in disbelief.

  “Yes. The ones who kicked her out when she turned eighteen.” My words are cold.

  “Wait, what?” Cal says. “Is that what she told you?”

  Joan touches a hand to her forehead. She looks as distraught as I feel. “Oh, Cal . . .”

  Her husband takes her hand and collects himself before he speaks. “Allison, that’s not what happened. Not at all . . .”

  “What do you mean?” My stomach sinks as something clicks.

  “We didn’t kick Steffi out,” he says, struggling not to cry. “We never would have done that.”

  “She told me . . .” I cannot believe this. And yet I can. “She told me that you didn’t want her. Not for the long term. That it wasn’t working out.”

  “Dear God.” Joan shakes her head.

  “She was scared,” I say in a whisper as a new understanding of the past washes over me. “She was too scared to trust you. That was it, wasn’t it? Oh, Steff . . .”

  “We should have known,” Joan says, heartbreak in her voice. “Damn, we should have known. But she was so adamant, so headstrong and sure. Very polite about not wanting to be adopted, but very clear. While we wanted to respect her choice, we tried to convince her. We did everything we could, but—”

  I jump in. “But you cannot con
vince Steffi of anything she doesn’t want. And she never wants to feel dependent on anyone else. She can’t.” I know this all too well. I should have known this would extend to Cal and Joan.

  Cal nods. “Yes. Allison, we loved her then, and we love her now. We think of her as our daughter.” His face crumples. “She will always, always be our daughter.”

  I step forward. “I see that. I believe you.”

  Crushed. I am crushed, because now there is yet another layer of tragedy to Steffi’s illness.

  CHAPTER 29

  TO THE GOODNIGHT MOON AND BACK

  The nurses, Rebecca and Jamie, are sweet. Very sweet. They’ve clearly done this before. So, they do what they can to prepare me before I walk into the room. I hear something about how thin Steffi is, about her coloring being off. About machines and beeps and monitors. About it only being a question of hours. When I press them, Rebecca answers. She’s seen enough patients to know, and her guess is soon. Four to ten hours.

  Esben waits in the hall, seated on a hard chair. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

  I know he will, and it’s the only comfort I have.

  Cal and Joan are with him. I’m not sure how to tell Steffi that they are here, but I suppose I’ll figure it out.

  Jamie pushes open the door and walks me in. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” she says softly.

  “Allison!” Steffi’s volume and joy shock and terrify me.

  She is sitting up in bed, surrounded by wrappers. The room smells strongly of burgers and fries.

  It’s all I can do to guard her from my reaction, because the girl before me looks so drastically different from the one who appeared outside my dorm last fall. She is very, very thin, her skin tone near ashen. Her formerly full blond hair is flattened against her head, stringy and limp. I see bags under her eyes where there were never any.

  Everything about her looks totally wrong, and yet it’s equally easy to see my best friend. She will always be Steffi, no matter the circumstances.

  “Get over here!” She beckons. “God, I can’t believe you made it. You’ve had a crazy day, huh?”

  It’s the middle of the night, yet she’s wide-awake and wired.

  “A little bit.” I try to sound like a normal human being. “But anything for you.”