Once she signed in at the desk of her oncologist’s office, she reached into her bag for her latest copy of Rolling Stone, finding pop culture a comfortable bridge between her surreal existence and the reality she used to know.
“You sure you’re okay?” Riley asked as he structured a temporary cot out of two chairs.
“I’ll be fine. Take a nap.” The word fine had been renovated, its new definition quite different from its old meaning.
As he hunkered down, shifting to find the most comfortable position in an obviously uncomfortable place, she paged through her magazine. Life was all about little compromises, they were coming to learn.
As patients drifted into the back new ones arrived. Sometimes the amount of patients being treated for such a hideous disease was startling, which was another reason she chose not to watch the waiting rooms too closely.
“You waiting?”
Pulling her attention from the article she read, Emma faced a woman who came from the double doors, unsure if she was a nurse or a patient. “I’m sorry?”
“You’ve been here a while. I was wondering if you were waiting for someone or waiting to be seen.”
“Oh. Waiting to be seen,” she explained, hating the pinch that still stung every time she voiced that truth.
The woman smiled. “Mind if I sit?”
Emma waved her to the open seat.
The woman settled in the seat beside her, posture at ease. “What are you in for?”
Dog-earing her page, she tucked her magazine away. “More tests.”
Lips pressed tight, the woman smiled and nodded as if she could relate. Maybe she was here with someone. Maybe she was someone’s Riley.
“It’s a lot,” the woman said. “How are you handling everything so far?”
Though the woman was a stranger, Emma found herself pressed to answer honestly, divulge things she didn’t often say in front of those she loved. “Honestly? I’m terrified.”
She nodded. “It is that—terrifying.”
Emma scrutinized the woman. Her hair was cut in a short, trendy style that took more confidence then attractiveness to pull off. Her calming presence lent an uncategorized beauty to her otherwise ordinary features. And her understated clothing and lack of jewelry didn’t help her discern if she was an employee, a supportive friend or a patient. Just ask. “Are you a patient?”
“No. I’m just a helper.”
Like an angel? There was definitely something soothing in her proximity.
“I used to be a patient though.” She smiled, her expression proud but a little sad, falling short of reaching her eyes. There was something else in her eyes though—a story. “I’ve been cancer free for ten years.”
Goose bumps lifted on Emma’s skin, perhaps pushed into place by a surge of envy. “That’s wonderful.” Would she ever have the chance to make such a statement?
Her gaze dropped to her shirt. She couldn’t tell what was under the loose material. Some women just had smaller frames, though this woman was tall.
“I’m Anna, by the way.” She held out her hand.
“Emma.” Her soft fingers held hers a second longer than most handshakes lasted.
“It’s nice to meet you, Emma. So...does that belong to you?” She tipped her chin at Riley, who was conked out on the chair in the corner.
Her cheeks heated. “Yeah. He works nights and my appointments are always early.”
“Sweet of him to still come to keep you company, even if he’s unconscious.”
She smiled. “Yeah. He’s sort of wonderful like that.”
After a few moments of silence, Anna cut to the chase. “So... How did you get here?”
Startled by her bluntness, which somehow remained in the realms of polite chitchat, Emma snorted and said the first response that came to mind. “I have no idea.”
Anna giggled. “Me neither. But here I am, happy, healthy, and whole—for the most part. Others might debate my sanity. Some say I’m lacking a screw or two.”
“I’d question anyone who went through this and came out totally sane.”
“Right?” She laughed. “It’s not a bad version of crazy though. Cancer definitely has a way of making you see the beauty in things. Makes you ditch all the nonsense in between. It sort of gives you an I don’t give a fuck attitude. And no one’s going to criticize you to your face, because you have cancer,” she whispered the last word.
“I’m still not able to say it out loud,” she confessed.
Anna’s smile gentled as sympathy filled her eyes. “I’m not making light of it, sweetie. I joke, because laughter blunts the pain. Good medicine and all that.”
Emma nodded. “I’ll take any medicine I can at this point. I just want to get well.”
They chatted a while longer as more patients came and others were called back behind the double doors. Anna never seemed in a rush to be anywhere else and the longer they talked, the more Emma found herself confessing what were unspeakable fears only minutes ago.
Anna listened and sympathized, sharing anecdotes from her own experiences. They weren’t necessarily reassuring, but somehow put her at ease, prepared her in a way nothing else had. There was simply something special about this woman that she found attractive, almost magnetic.
When the nurse called Emma’s name, she found herself reluctant to leave Anna’s side. Riley woke and gave her a questioning look, not expecting her to make friends when she’d been working so hard to be invisible.
As she stood, Anna surprised her with a hug. “You take care of yourself, Emma. We’ll chat again soon.”
She didn’t know if their paths would ever cross again, but it was a comforting thought, one that made the fear of visiting the oncology office a little less intimidating.
At her next appointment, Emma suffered a pinch of disappointment when Anna wasn’t in the waiting room, which made her sudden appearance all the more pleasant. “Anna,” she greeted as the woman came out, holding a bag of popcorn.
“I thought I heard the nurses say you were here. Popcorn?” She tipped the bag as she took a seat.
Riley grinned, knowing she’d hoped to see her friend again, and shut his eyes, catching his usual nap in the corner. And so a new routine was born. She’d arrive and Anna would soon surprise her with some sort of snack or drink and plenty of good conversation.
She was so lovely and feminine, so unmistakably female, and funny too. In truth, she wasn’t traditionally beautiful at all. Her smile was crooked and there wasn’t anything physically striking about her features, but she remained one of the prettiest people Emma knew. Every time she thought of Anna, her chest warmed as if filling with a cozy blush. Anna made her feel...pink.
It took Emma a solid month to realize this radiant woman no longer had breasts, and that was only when Riley brought it to her attention.
“She has boobs, Riley,” she argued on their way to the grocery store.
“Emma, she does not.”
“And how would you know? Did you see her topless?”
“No, I asked her.”
Her steps faltered and he paused, facing her as she stepped out of the way of the surrounding pedestrians. “You asked her? How? When?”
“During one of your appointments.”
She wasn’t sure what shocked her more, that he’d had the balls to ask something like that or that he’d actually conversed with Anna. “I didn’t know you two talked.”
“We talk all the time. Awesome person. Terrible at Crazy Eights, but other than that I think she’s great.”
“You played cards with her?”
“Emma, you’re usually back there for over an hour. Am I not allowed to talk to her?”
“No...” Why was she being so weird about this? “Do you talk about me?”
“Yes, but it’s not like I have anything bad to say. You know she was married before she got diagnosed?”
“I know.” But her husband left her shortly after she went into remission. Was it because of the st
ress or perhaps due to all the physical changes her body had undergone? “You guys talked about that?”
He shrugged. “A little. I don’t know the details or anything, but she’s always telling me how supportive I am.” He shrugged again, minimizing. “It’s not like I’d let you go through this alone.”
On the verge of tears, she grabbed his hand and squeezed. That’s what was so special about him. He did all these great things and didn’t even realize how great they were. “She’s right. You’re the most supportive person in my life. I love that you come to all my appointments, even if it’s just to sleep.”
He waved a finger. “I also play cards. It’s not all for you. I’ve been mopping the floor with your peers.”
But it was for her. There were a million things he could do with his days, but he put that all aside to be by her side, knowing she was too afraid to go at this alone. “I love you.” It was all she could say, yet those three words didn’t seem to be enough to truly express everything he made her feel.
Leaning close, he kissed her nose. “Come on. I want to get food and get back before Rarity leaves. If we nag her enough we can probably get her to cook dinner.” That night they enjoyed a huge pasta dinner in a delicious pesto sauce, compliments of Chef Rarity.
Emma’s life had become totally unrecognizable from what it once was. Based on all her test results and numerous consultations, they decided the best treatment for her unique case. A lumpectomy was in her future, but first, the doctors wanted to treat the tumors with chemotherapy to kill off any rapidly growing cells.
“That’s a pretty common approach,” Anna told her after Emma shared the news. “The unfortunate thing about chemo is that while it kills the bad cells, it also kills good ones. My advice is eat while you can and don’t get hung up on vanity. Cancer’s ugly and when it’s inside of us, it isn’t pretty.”
She appreciated her sage advice, being that it was firsthand. Emma understood more than she did a month ago, but still felt half as informed as everyone else. The doctors had explained that chemo affected the lining of the stomach, which was why people often got sick during treatment. She understood the risks and saw the side effects as a distant outsider, right here in the waiting room.
“I never expected this,” she confessed, a broken record even to her own ears.
Anna’s hand pressed into her knee, but she remained facing forward. “No one does.”
Once the first round of chemo was scheduled, Emma requested an official leave of absence from work and they prepared as much as one could for the unexpected. Riley moved into her bedroom and converted his room into a guest room since her mother and father would probably be staying with them from time to time. Her mother was steadily freezing meals and sending them over. Between her parents and roommates, they were unstoppable and it humbled her in indescribable ways to be so looked after with so much tenderness.
Rarity had become obsessed with nutrition. She believed supplements and eating a plant based diet were key in defeating cancer. Their kitchen was filled with various cookbooks based on veganism and macrobiotics. All processed foods were donated to the local pantry and replaced with organic grains and unprocessed goods.
Though her doctors were strictly supervising any supplements, Rarity insisted she eventually start taking things like black cumin seed, turmeric, and the list continued to grow. Everything they ate was cooked with ginger or garlic or whatever herb claimed to be the miracle plant of the minute.
It was obvious how much her friends derailed their own lives in order to help sustain hers. She’d tried to help as often as she could, but the stress and endless appointments were already exhausting. She couldn’t imagine how rundown she’d be once chemo started.
The plan was to administer chemo in two-week increments. There would be short breaks in between so that her body could recover and they could reassess the cell growth, but as soon as she started feeling better the treatment would start again. This would go on intermittently until the threat was gone or she was, whichever came first.
No one acted like the chemo would finish the job. According to her doctors and what they knew of her strand of cancer, she was constantly reminded that somewhere in the midst of all this the tumors would be surgically removed, but her mind couldn’t handle that yet.
Every time she looked at her schedule and tried to plan ahead, she got physically, emotionally, and mentally overwhelmed. What if there was no ahead?
As the days ticked down, she found it impossible to hide her fear. Not only was she worried about her own mortality and afraid of the pain that would inevitably come with the treatment, she worried about those around her. They tirelessly worked to make sure she had everything she needed.
Their ceaseless openhandedness often brought her to tears and she intended to pay back their kindness tenfold, once this was all over—she just needed the chance.
Chapter Fifteen
Riley placed The Cure album in the bag on top of the boo-boo blanket. Glancing around the loft, he wondered if there was anything else he was forgetting. The front door quietly opened and Rarity walked in with Marla. He gave the dog a bone so she would settle quickly.
“Do you want some coffee?” he whispered to his sister as he poured a second cup.
“Yeah. She up yet?” She washed her hands, something they were getting in the habit of doing routinely since Emma’s immune system was now at risk and a common cold suddenly ranked as life threatening.
He slid Rarity the Rosie the Riveter mug. “No. I figured I’d let her sleep until the last minute. She was up late.”
His sister nodded. “Will they let you in with her?”
“No. The nurses are all suited up with gloves and goggles. It’s not safe.”
“It’s amazing that stuff’s meant to heal.”
He glanced at the supply of disinfectant products stashed on the counter next to the trashcan liners. How had this become his life? He resented having to take such precautions with her, but her medications could not only be harmful to others, it was imperative they all stay healthy. If they got sick, who would take care of her? They had to be vigilant about containing anything that came in contact with the chemo while avoiding anything contaminated with outside germs.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Rarity said, a dazed look in her eyes as she held her untouched coffee.
It was something he’d try to comprehend for the rest of his life. With a flurry of appointments and staggering results, it had been an ongoing process of elimination, jumping from A to B back to A until they finally landed at C. Cancer.
That word, that horrible fucking word. It was a life sentence people could barely whisper and he heard it every hour of every day. He had no choice but to go against everything he knew and declare, no, it was not a death sentence.
His heart demanded he reorder his thinking and now every thought was geared toward what mattered most. Survival. She would survive. She would beat this. She had to, because he couldn’t imagine life without her.
The speed the doctors were moving was horrifying, her treatment had immediately consumed everyone in her immediate circle. What if this obsessive treatment was the last part of her life? She was missing her chance to live because it took so much damn effort to survive.
He shut his eyes. There was just so much resentment.
The prevalent ache in his chest tightened as he once again struggled to come to terms with his despair, hiding it away before Emma could see how badly this was crushing him. The chronic weight he bore was indescribable and beyond anything he anticipated carrying on his shoulders in this lifetime. But what choice did he have? All he wanted was her, safe and alive. It was an eye-opening crush that kept him awake at night, and a daunting responsibility during the day. But he desperately wanted to be her rock.
She wanted to do the chemotherapy to try to save her breast. He respected her choice, but worried it was because she feared losing her breast would steal her beauty. That was bullshit. Take both
of them, but spare her life. That was all that mattered. She was all that mattered. Still, it was her choice and she’d chosen to shrink the tumors and proceed with a lumpectomy if possible.
And so, today it would begin. Poison poised against poison. He’d done everything he could think of to ensure the process went as comfortably as possible, but nothing removed his hope that this would all suddenly disappear. It was a fantasy, but it crossed his mind every day all the same.
At one point in his life he was foolish enough to believe he had control. There was no control, no guarantee. Now, he was handing over the little control he had and placing everything he loved in the care of strangers. It wasn’t easy and though he’d been gearing himself up for this very moment, he never felt more unprepared in his life.
It would start with an injection, killing tiny, little mutated cells and some innocent ones along the way. Then they’d remove the three pea-sized lumps that started everything. But would it stop there? What if the chemo didn’t move fast enough and the cancer spread? How much would she pay to have her life back? And what quality of life would there be when this was finally over? These were the resounding worries that filled every waking moment of his days.
Despite his outward calm, every smile, every encouraging word was carefully pulled from the chaos in his mind. Inside, he hid his fears in the blackest corners of his mind, crevices he was too ashamed to admit his worries dwelled, worries even his sister couldn’t know existed. It was imperative they only give voice to the positive, but the pessimism existed all the same. It was his, a burden he bore alone, speaking not even a whisper of doubt for the others to hear.
The toilet flushed and he turned. Emma shuffled from the hall, her hair standing on end, sheet prints pressed into her face. “Morning.”
His breath sucked in as he committed the image to memory, classifying it in his mind as before. God, she was magnificent.
Strolling to her, he didn’t stop until they were hugging, his face pressing into her neck as he breathed in her scent. “Morning, beautiful.”