My breath catches in my throat, and at this moment, I know Garrett isn't just talking about Zack. I know he's envisioning what would happen to him if I were to die. He's entertaining the possibility and trying to already figure out a way to deal with it.
And I swim with guilt.
"If you all will excuse me...I need to find a bathroom," I murmur with my eyes downcast. I don't want anyone to see my eyes, because then they'll see how wretched I'm feeling at this moment. Not for Zack, and not for Benjamin. Certainly not for myself. I'm feeling terrible about what I'm doing to Garrett.
"It's down the hallway off the living room...first door on the left," Garrett says, and I manage to raise my gaze up to his with a plastic smile on my face.
"Thanks. I'll be back in a minute."
I turn away from the group before my false smile cracks, and immediately hear Alex talking about Zack again. I don't take but one step and Garrett's hand is on my wrist. I turn back toward him and he steps in close to me.
Bending his head down, he peers directly into my eyes while his thumb skims across my skin. "You okay?"
I ratchet my smile up a notch, trying to portray confidence. "Sure. Just need to use the bathroom."
He stares at me, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. Trying to discern if there's something else in there that he's missing. Apparently, my duplicity is foolproof, because he gives me a relieved smile and kisses me on my forehead. "Okay. Good."
Pulling my arm away from his grasp, I head toward the house with my shoulders back and my head held high. I make my posture confident as I walk away, because otherwise I'd give in to the urge to just withdraw into myself and immerse myself in pity and guilt.
This has been a bit of an eye-opener for me. I know death is not on my immediate horizon, but it could come into focus a lot sooner than for others my age. There is so much turmoil and pain that is left behind, and there are some things I can do ahead of time to ease that for those I leave behind. I make immediate note that I need to do a will, and also an advanced healthcare directive. I need to make sure my mom knows where I bank and that she's listed properly as my beneficiary on my meager 401(k) that Stevie provides through Fleurish. Most important, I need to let my mom know what my wishes are when it comes to my funeral. No one should have to bear making those decisions.
It would absolutely slay me in the afterlife if I knew my friends and family--if I knew Garrett--were devastated over my death. I would want them to move on...enjoy life...seek additional love. But that's beyond my control. I can't make that happen...only wish it to be so.
There's nothing I can do about my mom, because she's my mom. She's not going anywhere. Neither are Stevie and Sutton, who have been long-standing in my life.
But Garrett is a bit different. He's new to my life, and while I care for him deeply, as deeply as I've ever felt for a man before, I have to wonder if I did the right thing by getting involved with him.
Here this amazing man has set his sights on me...the first relationship he's had since high school, and he picked someone that could destroy him. Guilt gnaws at me and I feel incredibly selfish. And if I'm honest with myself, I've been feeling this way for a while. Ever since Garrett wigged out over me being in the hospital.
But I refused to let go of that selfishness, because as shallow as it might make me feel, Garrett provides me with comfort and security. He makes me feel alive and eager to face each day with joy. At times he makes me forget all the scary things I face. Even though it makes me self-absorbed, I'm not sure I could give him up at this point.
So I think I'll just suffer with the guilt for now.
Chapter 25
Garrett
I knock on Olivia's apartment door. She's not expecting me, or otherwise I would have just walked right in. I hear movement from within and bounce on the balls of my feet, sneaking a quick glance at my watch.
The door opens and Olivia's eyes are round with surprise. A smile lights up her face--so fucking beautiful--and she says, "What are you doing here?"
Stepping in, I reach behind her head and pull her close for a kiss. It's a sweet kiss, because we had a pretty passionate, almost-causing-us-to-get-a-quick-fuck-in kiss not but a half hour ago when I left her apartment. I was supposedly on my way to an early-morning practice, and Olivia was getting in the shower because she had an appointment with Dr. Yoffman.
This appointment was a big one. Having finished her third cycle of treatment last week, this was the midway-point evaluation. She had a CT scan done yesterday and more blood work, and she was going in to get the results.
And I just couldn't--not in good conscience--let her go by herself. Not that she really needed someone with her. This would just be to get results and ensure they were on the right path. In fact, Olivia put everyone off...telling me, Stevie, and Sutton she could handle this one on her own. She was brimming with confidence and hope that today's appointment would bring nothing but good news.
I, on the other hand, knew there was a possibility of bad news, so despite her assurances, I felt that Olivia needed someone with her. So I made it only halfway to Raleigh before I turned around and headed back. I put in a quick call to Coach Pretore, told him I had food poisoning and that I wouldn't make practice. It was a complete and utter lie...the first I've ever told to him. The first time I've ever missed a practice in my career. I even had to come up with food poisoning as my illness, because I've actually played sick with colds and flu symptoms before, and Pretore would know that it would take a lot to knock me on my ass. Told him I had it coming out of both ends and no way I could even think about moving away from my toilet.
I didn't have a moment's guilt about it either as I headed my car back to Olivia's apartment.
"I'm going to go with you to see Dr. Yoffman," I tell her with a smile.
"But you have practice," she says with confusion as she pulls away from me.
"Yeah...well, I called in sick for the day," I say with a cheeky grin. "This was more important. Now get your purse and let's go."
Olivia's eyes harden and her lips flatten out in censure. "No, Garrett. This isn't more important than missing a practice. That's your job. You just can't call in sick."
Shrugging, I give her lackadaisical smile. "People call in sick all the time."
"Not professional athletes," she grits out. "You have obligations."
Reaching out, I place my hands on her shoulders and give her a reassuring squeeze. "I know. But I have an obligation to you as well."
Olivia shrugs, dislodging my hands. She steps back and she looks pissed. "I don't want to be an obligation to you, Garrett."
Sighing in frustration, I scrub a hand through my hair. "Listen...I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that you are as important to me as hockey. Actually, I'm thinking maybe more so, and that there are times when you will take priority over it. This is one of those times."
"No, it's not one of those times," she says, and actually stomps her foot on the ground. "It's a freakin' follow-up appointment. It probably won't last ten minutes. I don't need you or anyone there with me."
Okay, now I'm getting pissed. Foolish, hardheaded woman.
My hands shoot out and cup her face, pulling her in close to me. I lean down and practically touch my nose to hers. When I'm assured her eyes won't go anywhere other than in a locked position on mine, I tell her quietly, "Olivia...baby...this is more than just a follow-up. It's where we find out how you are responding to treatment. Now, I know you...and I know you're a fighter, so I'm expecting this is going to be full of good news, puppies, and rainbows. But in the off chance it's not what we're expecting, I want to be there with you. You need me there with you if that happens."
Her eyes go soft, limpid pools of mossy green, and she utters a small sigh of resignation. "I just don't like disrupting your career."
This woman.
She makes me crazy with a million different feelings every day, ranging from lust to serenity, anger to happiness, security to doubt, comfort to fear. She'
s a million different things to me, none of which I ever thought were possible, and now that I've experienced them, I know I can't do without a single one.
Leaning down, I brush my lips against her. I run my nose up the side of her cheek and then kiss her at her temple. When I pull away, I wait until her eyelids flutter open and I tell her, "I love you, Olivia. I waited a long time to find this and there is nothing more important in my world than you. Don't trivialize this. Accept it. You are it for me."
Olivia gasps and a thin sheen of tears fills her eyes. She blinks hastily, quickly dispelling the moisture, and gives me a tentative smile. Her hands creep up and lock onto my wrists while I still hold on to her face.
I search her eyes, wondering what she's thinking. I don't expect her to say the words back, because I didn't say them in order to get that response. I said them because Olivia shouldn't have to wait another day to know how I truly feel about her.
"I--I--" she stumbles...hesitates...her eyes drop from mine for a brief moment, then raise back up. She clears her throat and squeezes my wrists. "I don't deserve you."
Foolish, silly woman. Doubting herself. But she's dead serious right now, so I lighten the moment. "You totally don't deserve me. I'm stubborn, willful, and an asshole sometimes. I don't take much seriously, except you, and I'm a slob. I snore sometimes and forget birthdays. But when I said you're it for me? Well, I'm it for you. Admit it. I'm it for you and you're stuck with me."
The darkness in Olivia's eyes disappears, and she chuckles for a brief moment. Then she gets serious again, leaning in to me and wrapping her arms around my waist. She lays her head on my chest and she whispers, "You are. You're it for me too."
I smile wide and tighten my hold on her. She didn't tell me she loved me, but she gave me the next best thing. She gave me acceptance of our feelings, and that's good enough for me right now.
--
Looking around Dr. Yoffman's office, I can't help but be impressed. Oh, not because he has impressive medical degrees or anything. Which I'm sure he does, they're just not hanging on his walls. No, I'm impressed by the wildly bohemian flair to his decor. There's no rhyme or reason to it, and it looks like someone vomited a riot of colors in his office. He has his walls covered in bright prints featuring American Indians and western landscapes. He has a scuffed and scarred surfboard propped up in one corner, and wooden African masks hanging behind his desk. On another wall, he has a large print of a marijuana leaf that says LEGALIZE MEDICAL MARIJUANA. It all goes with his hippie long hair and jeans, and the Hawaiian-print shirts he wears. If it weren't for the wedding ring I'd noticed on his hand the last time I was here, I would think about trying to hook him up with Maryana.
I had seen him just last week with Olivia. My game schedule worked out nicely that I was here and available to go with her to her third treatment cycle. I didn't even have to call in sick to practice, as we had the day off. Olivia had told me that Dr. Yoffman was a Cold Fury fan, so I brought him a signed jersey and handed it off to the nurse to give him after she got Olivia hooked up.
About half an hour later, Olivia was settled in and reading a book. I had pulled my chair up opposite hers, and her feet were resting in my lap. I had my earbuds in and was just listening to some Meat Puppets when Dr. Yoffman walked up with a smile on his face. I pulled my earbuds out and stood up from my chair, gently pushing Olivia's legs off me.
Sticking his hand out, he said, "Just wanted to thank you for the jersey. That's so going in my man cave at home."
I took his hand and shook it with a smile. "Just trying to bribe you to make sure she gets the best possible medical care."
Olivia snickered and Dr. Yoffman gave her a quick grin. "So, how are you feeling?"
"Pretty great, actually," she said. "It gets easier each time."
"For some it does," he says, and then turned to me. "Just watch her carefully. Extreme fatigue, shortness of breath, chest pains...get her in to the hospital."
Anxiety seeped through me because I was leaving the next day for an away game, and the thought of her going through that again while I wasn't here made me sick to my stomach. I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak, because I wanted to demand that he do something to prevent that from happening. Which was ludicrous. I know that.
Dr. Yoffman chatted with Olivia for a few more minutes, making sure she was set to come in for the midway CT scan and blood work in a few days. Then he left and I took my seat again, propping Olivia's feet in my lap. She had taken her tennis shoes off and I gently rubbed her feet while she started to doze for a bit.
While I hated that she was going through this, I also knew I wouldn't trade this experience for the world. Every step I took with her on this journey brought us closer together, bound my heart to hers more tightly. I think I knew in that moment that I had fallen in love with her.
"So, his office is really strange, right?" Olivia whispers to me, jolting me out of my memories.
Smiling at her, I whisper back, "He reminds me of your mother. All free-spirited and shit. I like it, though...makes this all seem a little more bearable."
She nods in understanding, then our heads turn when the office door opens. Dr. Yoffman walks in wearing a Billabong T-shirt and a pair of frayed khaki shorts. "Excuse my causal dress today," he says as he sits behind his desk and starts flipping through Olivia's chart. "My wife and I are headed to the beach in a couple of hours."
Olivia and I cut a look at each other with matching smirks...because he's always casually dressed. I reach my hand out and she places hers in mine. I give her a reassuring squeeze.
"All right...I have the results in from the blood work and CT scan. Your blood looks good...white cells are a little low, but should rebound soon. The lymph node in your neck has decreased substantially and the small one we saw on your lung is completely gone."
Dr. Yoffman looks up with a confident smile on his face. I want to jump up and do a jig, but instead I just give Olivia's hand another squeeze.
"So does this mean I'm beating this thing?" Olivia asks with excitement, leaning forward slightly in her chair.
The smile slides a little bit on Dr. Yoffman's face, which causes me to feel uneasy. His voice is patient and cautious. "It means you are responding how I expected you would on this protocol. The treatment is working for now. That's fantastic news. But the flip side is we don't know what's going on in your marrow. We won't do another biopsy until after your last treatment."
I shudder, thinking about Olivia going through that biopsy again. Stevie told me about it one night when we all went out to dinner together, and then I got the bright idea to Google it. I watched a video of one being performed and totally lost my man card when I actually got a little queasy watching it. I pray to God that my schedule permits me to go with her to the next one she has, because as Stevie tells it, he almost passed out, and Olivia needs someone a bit stronger. Besides...I want her to rely on me first and foremost. It's a caveman sort of thing.
"But you're happy with how everything looks?" Olivia asks, and I sense desperation in her question. I think she was expecting the doctor to tell her that she would definitely be cured by the way things looked so far.
Dr. Yoffman gives her a kind smile and stands up from behind his desk. He walks around and leans a hip on the front edge of his desk, right in front of Olivia. Crossing his arms over his chest, he speaks frankly. "Olivia...this disease is treatable, and by that, I'm confident we are going to get you into remission. But don't forget...it's not curable. I don't want you to have expectations that will be failed down the road."
His words are not unkind...merely honest and stinging. I appreciate his frank talk, even if what he's saying isn't exactly palatable. Even if what he's saying brings home the terrible truth that this will probably always be hanging over Olivia's head. Over my head too.
I'm still confused, though. Dr. Velia had mentioned to me that it could potentially be cured with a bone-marrow transplant. He gave that information to me, almost like someone g
iving a starving dog a bone. This was right after he explained to me what a median life expectancy was.
"What about a bone-marrow transplant?" I blurt out, seeking something positive for him to give Olivia.
"A stem-cell transplant is an option...if it comes back in her marrow," he says. "Long-term studies on that look promising as a cure."
I turn to Olivia and give her a bright smile. See...even better news, and I'm proud of myself and even more thankful I called in sick so I could come with her. But Olivia doesn't look relieved by that news, and her lips pull downward in a frown.
Her eyes cast down to the floor and she says quietly, "I read an article online...it reiterated what you've told me all along...that this isn't generally a curable disease."
"But that's not all you read," Dr. Yoffman hazards a guess.
She shakes her head and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying at it. When she raises her eyes she says, "It said that this type of cancer is a life-limiting disease. You even told me that once before...used that same exact term, but I've been too afraid to ask you more about it."
My stomach bottoms out, drops, falls through the floor. The fear in Olivia's voice, the fear I'm feeling over hearing that again...it makes me sick at heart that Olivia has been worried about this and yet too fearful to find out what that really means.
"Olivia," Dr. Yoffman says kindly, but slightly chastising. "Stop reading stuff online. Some of it's good, but some of it isn't. How you choose to talk about this cancer is very subjective. Yes, I've said that this cancer is a life-limiting illness. But I never gave you any hard numbers as to what that meant. Want to know why?"
Olivia nods at him with wide eyes, almost begging for him to make this all better.
"Because what does life-limiting mean, anyway? Does it mean that possibly you could live to be ninety years old, but then it comes back one day and you die at age eighty-five? Yes, it could mean that. Does it mean that it could come back within three months of your last treatment? Yes, it could mean that. We just don't know. There's too much to speculate on. But what I can tell you is that we have ways to fight this. There is new research being done...new medications. Five years from now, we may have a cure. We just don't know. So I need you to stop focusing on the what-ifs and when something might happen, and concentrate on the fact that you are responding very well. If I was a betting man, I'm going to bet that you are going to lead a long and healthy life."