Love is the beautiful chaos in between.
Chapter Thirteen
“In The Color Purple there’s a line about God getting pissed off because people don’t appreciate how pretty purple is. Maybe that’s what God’s doing now, reminding us to stop and appreciate life before it’s gone.”
Riley forced a smile. “Maybe.”
Emma had been having a lot of those enlightened moments lately. She often expressed them, but he wasn’t sure if she was sharing them because she wanted him to hypothesize with her or because she wanted to reassure God she received the warning loud and clear, and would cease taking life for granted.
At the moment, as he drove her to her appointment, he didn’t give a lavender tinted fuck about the color purple. He wanted to punch God in the face and demand guarantees that his girlfriend was going to be all right.
“It’s up there on the left.”
“I know.”
Her energy had been high since that morning. He wasn’t sure how she was functioning, because neither of them slept the night before. This was another example of how optimistic and good she was, thereby emphasizing how screwed up life could be, putting someone as undeserving as Emma through this.
I take that back. No one deserves this. Maybe they were both making deals with a god they didn’t completely trust.
His head was a mess. He was angry and scared, overly emotional, and in some sort of bidding war with a Santa Zeus God he wasn’t sure existed. This might be happening to her, but it seemed like a way to punish him. For what, he wasn’t sure, but he was convinced it was his fault.
“There’s a spot.”
How was she so calm? He pulled the car into the parking space and shut off the engine. “You ready?”
“I waited the longest two weeks of my life for this. Yes, I’m ready. I want to get this over with and get back to normal.”
Terrified, he faced her and attempted a smile. They might never see normal again. “Then let’s do this.” They opened the doors and climbed out.
“Wait,” she called, rushing over to his side of the car.
She held up the Polaroid, angling the camera so the doctor’s office was in the background. “I want to remember this. When I look back from whatever happens next it’ll remind me to always appreciate life, even the rainy days.”
The bulb flashed and he blinked. He hadn’t had a chance to smile. She tossed the camera on the front seat and waved the picture. As it came into view she giggled. “Look at your face.”
He glanced at the photograph, ignoring his staggered expression. It didn’t matter. She was there, always smiling. “Look how lovely you are.”
It wasn’t her clothing or her makeup and that claw thing in her hair. It was her. She was just a lovely person, so silly and easygoing—most days. Sure she had quirks and got overly sensitive when he didn’t hang the dishcloth on the hook, but most of the time she was perfect.
She hummed, but her smile faded. “My looks might change, Riley. Getting this thing out might leave a scar.”
If that was all it left he’d consider it a win. “I’m not talking about your looks, Emma.” It was her spirit, right there, bolder than life, captured in a picture that he worried might be in jeopardy.
Once they stepped through those doors, everything could change, but he wasn’t worried about superficial blemishes. If it were up to him, he’d accept a thousand scars to know the threat was gone. But if this was something serious, he feared it would change the person she was on the inside a hundred times more than it could touch the person on the outside. He didn’t want her to lose that part of her, because those were the parts he loved most.
Everyone had a breaking point. What if this was hers? Whatever changes came, he hoped they were the kind she could handle.
Please don’t break her...
Her mood sobered as they entered the quiet facility and she started to fill out the multiple forms. There weren’t enough cheery paintings in the world to blot out the dread smothering that waiting room. Fuck this place.
A lump formed in his throat as he watched her hand shake when she struggled to write their address. “Want me to do it?”
“That’s okay.” Letting out a frustrated breath, she shook her hand and continued writing.
He read her response to each question, finding it reassuring that no one in her immediate family had cancer. She never smoked and seldom drank. In his opinion, she was a healthy woman.
The longer the waiting lasted the more fragile she seemed. She fidgeted and fussed, trying to provide simple details like her age and the date of her last period. Finally, he took the clipboard and finished filling out the form for her. She breathed out a staggering sigh of relief and stared blankly as he returned the clipboard to the desk.
When he sat back down, she folded her hand around his and squeezed. She was scared.
“Emma?” a nurse called from the entrance to the exam rooms.
They stood and he considered vomiting in the fake ficus by the corner. They followed the nurse to a scale and Emma laughed. “I’m not that shameless. Turn around, Riley.”
He stared at an advertisement for some sort of prescription drug as the nurse took her height and weight.
“Good. Right this way,” the nurse said and they were moving again.
They entered a room and the woman instructed Emma to sit on the exam table. He sat in a chair in the corner while the nurse asked questions and strapped Emma to the cuff of a sphygmomanometer—totally shocked he knew the name of such a thing.
“So what brings you in?”
“I...uh...think I found a lump in my breast.” She spoke like she was unsure. There absolutely was a lump. They were there to find out what that lump meant.
“Have you ever felt a mass before?”
“No.”
“A lot of times a lump can be nothing more than fatty tissue, but it’s good you came in and great that you’re checking your breasts at home.”
She unstrapped her from the blood pressure cuff. “Pressure’s a little high.” She reached in a drawer and produced a smock wrapped in plastic. “Put this on, open in the front, and the doctor will be in shortly.”
They were silent when the nurse left.
Emma deliberately removed her shirt and bra and peeled open the smock. Her shoulders hunched as she slid her arms through the sleeves as if she were physically shrinking from fear.
He swallowed, the tiny room not holding enough air for both of them to catch their breath. “It’s probably just tissue,” he asserted, repeating what the nurse said.
But something in his gut warned him that wasn’t the case. He’d felt it, again and again. There was definitely something solid there. He didn’t think tissue could feel like that.
The doctor came in, throwing everything into fast-forward with her cheery mood as if this was just another Wednesday. Her blasé attitude immediately pissed him off, like maybe they could wrap this up quick and go grab some frozen yogurt.
Once she breezed through Emma’s family history, confirming she ranked low risk according to statistics, she instructed Emma to lie back. The blood immediately drained from Emma’s face as she eased onto the table and he could tell the doctor was moving too fast for her as well.
The doctor stared at the wall as she examined Emma’s right breast. “This one feels fine.” She shifted to examine the left. Her brow wrinkled as her touch focused on the area where the lump was.
“Do you feel it?” Emma asked, voice strained.
“I feel something, but it’s most likely a cyst.” All too abrupt, the doctor stepped back and instructed Emma to sit up. “I’m going to write a referral for a diagnostic mammogram and a follow up ultrasound. Once your results are in we’ll go from there. But I wouldn’t worry. Like I said, at your age and with your family’s history, it’s probably a small cyst.”
Oh, she wouldn’t worry... Five minutes ago it was just tissue.
Emma smiled. “Thank you. That’s a relief.?
??
He frowned. A relief? They learned nothing! What the hell was the point of coming here? Now they had to wait for another appointment and then another one before they knew anything conclusive. Why did she look so relieved?
“Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll leave your referral at the front desk.”
The doctor left and Emma turned and beamed at him. “Did you hear that? It’s probably nothing. Just a cyst.”
He tried to smile and failed. “That’s great.” He needed a drink.
When they returned to the car he tried to calm down. He didn’t want to overreact and he seriously hoped it was nothing, but he wanted something a little more concrete than one drive-by opinion of a woman in a lab coat. He wanted someone to verify she was healthy!
Emma buckled her seatbelt and hummed. “I should text Rarity.”
“Maybe you should call and set up the appointment for the ultrasound and stuff. Who knows how long we’ll have to wait for that.”
“I will.” She texted Rarity.
When they got home he had to go to work. “Em, the office probably closes soon. Are you gonna call?”
“I will, Riley. I said I would.”
Biting his lips, he nodded. It wasn’t like her to procrastinate. “Okay. I have to go.” He leaned in and kissed her as she stared at the television. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Sighing, he left.
****
“You promised you’d call.” Fuming, he paced to the kitchen and opened the fridge, but what he was searching for wasn’t there.
“I said I would call and I will. It’s been two days, Riley. Relax!”
He slammed the fridge. “Exactly, Emma, two fucking days. You have something inside of you and no clue if it’s spreading or harmless. What the hell are you waiting for?”
Her jaw twitched as she stared at him, her eyes hardening and glazing with unshed tears. Fuck.
“I just want to know what’s going on, Emma. Don’t you?”
“I just...” She shook her head and pressed her lips tight. “I just wanted a moment to breathe.”
“Then let’s deal with this so we can,” he argued in a calmer voice.
“You don’t get it,” she barked. “The moment those real tests start there’s no slowing down. I’m not ready for this. I’m scared, Riley.”
Jesus, how did people do this? He was losing his fucking mind waiting. Sitting beside her on the couch, he exhaled. “I know, cakes. I’m scared too. That’s why I want us to deal with this. We have to be aggressive so it doesn’t get ahead of us.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the table. “Don’t you get it? There is no us. This is happening to me. It’s my body. My decision. And I’ll make the appointment when I’m emotionally ready to do so.”
It was happening. She was changing, pulling away from him. Her words stabbed into him, sharp and careless, cutting him to pieces as he bled with worry. The stress this was putting on their relationship was wearing their patience thin.
Something had to give. Fighting back the chronic nausea brought on by fear, he shook his head. “How do you turn it off?” he whispered, truly curious.
“Turn what off?”
His heart raced. They were losing ground. They needed to stay on the same foundation if they expected to get through this. “The worry. The love.”
Turning from the window, her jaw trembled and her scowl softened as her head lowered. “I don’t,” she whispered almost shamefully.
The pressure in his chest was nearly crippling. “Then how can you say this is only happening to you?”
A tear fell to her jeans leaving a dark spot. “Honestly, I’m terrified, Riley. I think the doctor was wrong. I feel it, in my gut. I know something isn’t right. Tissue shouldn’t feel like that and even if it is just a cyst, it doesn’t belong there and that freaks me out. I know my body. But it felt so good believing her for a split second. I just wanted to hold on to that feeling a little bit longer.”
Understanding the temptation of false security, he felt like the worst villain stealing it from her, but just because someone fed her an optimistic assumption didn’t mean she was safe. He wouldn’t be able to breathe right until he was absolutely certain she was in the clear.
“You can’t hide from this, Emma. I’m scared too, but it’s real and it’s happening whether you acknowledge it or not. If you want a fighting chance, you have to get in the ring.”
Sniffling, she wiped her nose. “I’m not tough. What if it knocks me down and I can’t pull myself back up?”
“You are tough.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “And if it knocks you down, I’ll help you up every time you fall. I promise. I’ll catch you.”
Her lips tightened with tension. “What if it beats me up? I could walk away from this scarred and ugly.”
The damage was already taking its toll whether she realized it or not. This experience had its claws so deep in her it was leaving marks on her soul. Gripping her hands, he stared into her eyes and fiercely vowed, “You could never be ugly, Emma. Scars don’t matter. You do. Please, just make the appointments.”
She wiped her eyes. Seeing her so worn down ripped at his gut. He’d take a thousand other horrible punishments if he could just spare her this.
Her shoulders lowered and she nodded.
He kissed her nose and made her look at him. “This may be your body, but I’m in love with the woman inside. Anything that happens to her, happens to me. This is happening to us, Emma.” His voice ceased as his greatest fears choked him. “Don’t push me away. I don’t like it and I won’t let you.”
She pressed her forehead to his. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed to hear you say that more than you’ll ever know.”
“I love you. I’ll never stop reminding you.” Pulling back, he reached into his pocket and handed her the phone. “It’s time to get into the ring.”
****
Riley fidgeted in the ultra feminine waiting room, grateful the receptionist was the only one playing witness to his sketchy behavior. His fingers drummed rapidly over the veneer armrest and the woman glanced over the desk.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Emma had been gone for nearly twenty minutes. He wasn’t sure how long a mammogram took, but once he’d had his wisdom teeth x-rayed and that only took a few seconds. The door opened and his heart jolted as he spotted Emma and stood. Thank God.
Her mouth formed a polite smile, but he read the stress in her eyes. The sooner they got the hell out of there the better. Taking her hand, he led her to the exit, anxious to get somewhere they could talk.
Holding the door, he squinted at the sun and whispered, “How was it?”
“Uncomfortable, but not too painful.” Her voice was trancelike, different from her usual upbeat tone.
He wasn’t allowed in the examination room for safety reasons, which was probably for the best. Seeing her in any sort of pain made him crazy and he heard mammograms weren’t pleasant. “Were they able to tell you anything?”
“No. I didn’t even see the images. They go somewhere else. I won’t hear anything for a week or so.” The knot in his intestines tightened. His stomach couldn’t handle much more suspense.
Once he started the car his head pressed against the seat and he let out a frustrated breath. She did the same. They sat in the parked car for several minutes not saying a word.
Silence.
Too many chaotic thoughts raced through his head, yet the world around them continued at its peaceful rhythm. Forcing out a calming breath, he tried to get a hold of his bearings, but nothing seemed capable of silencing the pandemonium in his mind.
Emma twisted, her hair dragging against the leather of the seat as their gazes met. He had no doubt she was struggling with the same inner turmoil. “You know what we should do?”
“What?” Fraught, he prayed she had a solution. He needed to escape the pressure, even if only for a moment.
Her lips curled i
n a slow, mischievous grin. He arched a brow, intrigued. Oh yeah, she had a plan. Good thing, because he was going out of his skull overthinking everything and desperately needed a distraction.
“Do you trust me?”
He smiled. “With everything I’ve got.”
“Good. Let’s go home.”
****
The entire loft stunk of skunk weed. Emma fell over Rarity as she giggled hysterically, Lexi’s legs draped haphazardly over her lap. Riley continued to look around the kitchen, checking every drawer, but momentarily unsure what he was searching for.
He paused and pulled at the tag on his shirt, really enjoying the swishy sound it made. Tags were the same material as satin bows, weren’t they? Bows...
David Bowie is highly underappreciated. I should eat a banana. Where’s my monkey hat? Emma has the best laugh. Marla’s a good dog. Brown is such a weird word. Brown. Berrrrwown.
Abandoning the kitchen he shuffled to his bedroom, swishing his tag along the way. Stuffing his head in his sock monkey hat, he grabbed a box of cassettes, and returned to the couch, wedging himself between his sister and Lexi.
“Hey,” Lexi complained, poking his ribs with her big toe. “I was cozy.”
“Sit with me, Riley.”
Emma. He stared at her for a moment wondering if she was speaking low or if his ears were moving too fast. Wait. Ears didn’t move, but it would be funny if they did. The image of Dumbo’s mom popped in his head and he snorted. The pot had definitely hit him.
His face suffered a sort of grin paralysis, but every muscle in his body was at ease. As he sifted through the tapes he continued to mumble, because the girls were laughing about something else and he wasn’t sure what he’d missed. “Brown. Br-br-br-br-brown clown.” He found what he wanted. “Put this on,” he yelled, handing his sister the Ziggy Stardust album.
“Why are you yelling?” Lexi shouted and they all started cracking up.
“I feel so good right now,” Emma sighed. “The only thing that could make me feel better is ice cream. I really want some ice cream.”
Rarity shoved him off the couch and he crawled over to Emma’s chair. Falling onto the cushion beside her, he pulled on her curls. His eyes were getting heavy. “You’re cute, cakes.”