La Vie en Rose {Life in Pink}

  She didn’t blame people for not knowing how to act or what to say. She didn’t know either. Cancer overhauled lives, the lives of the patients and those closest to them. Most people didn’t want to spend an abundance of time worrying or being reminded how meaningless their new sunglasses were. It didn’t make them bad. It made them human. If Emma had a place to run and hide, she’d go.

  I wish, for just one day, the word cancer didn’t exist.

  Maybe the pink ribbons were all some people could manage. She glanced at her mother, working tediously to fold and pin the pastel bows as her basket gradually filled.

  Making ribbons had become her mother’s latest hobby. She sold them at work and sent a check in Emma’s name each month to a cancer research center. And while her dad didn’t visit often, every time she saw him he wore his pink proudly. So perhaps the ribbons were healing in a different way—healing those trying to cope with cancer by proxy.

  When she saw a stranger wearing a ribbon a slow awareness took hold...hey, that’s for me. And then her mind would travel the same path of questions. Do they know someone with cancer? Did she have it? Is she a survivor? Did the person they know live?

  The ribbons were the softest edge of awareness, but maybe the pin itself was the better symbol. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Perhaps she was just looking for something to blame, a place to direct her anger while she waited to see if she’d live or die.

  There was no room to hide—even on the days she wanted nothing more. She’d surrendered her strength, her vanity, and a great deal of dignity in order to accept that she actually needed help, needed all the pink because this was what her life had become. Once she let go of her ego and let others in, the battle became a bit more manageable.

  Damn she was thirsty. Tired of waiting for her strength to return, she, again, let out a frustrated breath. “Mom?”

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  She nudged the bottle of water. “Can you please open this?”

  “Of course.”

  Her thirst, for the moment, was quenched. A small but notable win.

  ****

  She sat on the plastic bench Riley had put in the shower. How pathetic was it that she didn’t even have the strength to take a five-minute shower, which actually turned out to take over twenty-five minutes?

  This would be the highlight of her day. After waking less than an hour ago, she’d gone and exhausted herself already.

  As she deliberately dried her body she stared at the girl in the mirror, no longer recognizing the woman as herself. She’d lost so much weight. Her cheeks were so gaunt her eyes looked enormous, making the purple circles all the more prominent against her sharp, protruding bones. How had that happened so fast?

  No hair, no eyelashes left to wish on. It was a new naked.

  The trouble with not recognizing her physical self was that she’d also lost sight of her inner self. The thoughts filling her head were no longer her own. What happened to Emma? Where did she go? Would she ever be back? She was too tired to miss her, but eventually she might—if she made it that far.

  It had been seven weeks and she could barely remember the woman she was, the girl she’d always been. Vaguely, she recalled a girl that was careless and free, but also burdened by stupid worries, like if the cabinets were organized or if last year’s jeans were still in style. How strange to concern oneself with such trivial nonsense.

  She looked again at the reflection in the mirror. If that wasn’t her and the thoughts in her head didn’t seem her own did she even exist anymore? Was she dead? Dying?

  Maybe she was being reborn.

  The longer this went on the more she was certain she knew nothing at all.

  ****

  Cancer was stealth, sneaking in like a phantom breeze, setting down roots like a weed, and rapidly overtaking what was once a beautiful place of life. Chemo was a gamble. They were poisoning the weed, but it was so strong it became a guessing game if they’d kill the weed without taking the flowers or destroying the garden.

  Her breast hurt. Maybe it wasn’t working. Maybe it was spreading. So many unanswered questions.

  Shoving such unknowns away, she reminded herself of the facts. She trusted her doctors—literally with her life. If they could cure her they would. She respected their advice and truly believed the chemo would do its job and kill the cancer cells.

  Those were the promises she repeated every day, because every day she lost her faith and had to find it again. They’d kill the cancer cells. They would. She just hoped the process didn’t kill her too.

  “Cakes, you didn’t take your pills.”

  She glanced at Riley. “What? Oh.” She was so grateful he and Rarity were always there to remind her when to do things like take her medicine. The doctors were constantly prescribing new medications and she’d given up trying to keep track.

  Struggling to sit up, she accepted the water he handed her and swallowed the pills he’d slid into her palm. “Thank you.”

  He settled onto the couch and she nestled into his side. Happiness.

  She’d been cooped up in the loft for weeks, only leaving when she had an appointment and then coming right back. It was cold outside and flu season, so everyone was adamant that she remained in a warm, clean environment.

  Her mother hadn’t been by in over a week because her dad was sick and she was afraid she was a carrier of whatever bug he had. But she called several times a day. It was like living in a petri dish where every microscopic variable counted and needed to be analyzed.

  “When’s the last time you ate?” Riley asked.

  She tried to recall her last meal. It had been a while, but she didn’t have an appetite. He needed to get out of the house. “You should go out with Jake for a while, Riley.”

  “Knock it off. When did you eat?”

  She sighed, wishing her life hadn’t derailed his. He loved her too much. She worried what he’d have left to love after she was gone. “Not too long ago.”

  “Emma,” he warned.

  “I had half a banana this morning.”

  “I saw the banana. That wasn’t half. You took a bite and left it on the counter.”

  “I wasn’t finished,” she teased, but he didn’t laugh. They used to laugh all the time.

  “How about soup?”

  Her belly revolted. “No, thank you.”

  “Rarity made fruit pops. Want one of them?”

  That would make her mouth feel better for a while, but she didn’t want that either.

  “How about a smoothie?” he offered.

  That was where they usually came to an agreement. Riley would leave her be about eating for a while if she drank one of his magic smoothies. “Okay.”

  Food no longer had much taste, so she didn’t mind. He stuffed them full of leafy greens and all kinds of healing fruits and vegetables. She wasn’t sure what they did for her, but they gave him peace of mind, so she always said yes.

  He stood and went to the kitchen. This new routine, already familiar and old, was all they ever did. As she watched him something came over her, a moment of insight, a dark, reoccurring epiphany that could knock her down if she weren’t already sitting. I have cancer.

  Staggering.

  Nauseating awareness pinched a nerve, yet she remained calm. Every few days when the epiphany came it had the same unpleasant effect. It didn’t matter that every thought had to do with cancer. There was no preparing for those chilling moments of awareness when cancer was actually happening to her.

  But she didn’t cry. Maybe this uncharacteristic, unruffled acceptance was a new side of her. She was getting stronger, unshakable. She was still terrified, but there was a new layer of peace blanketing the ongoing shock. Was this numb surrender a good thing or a bad thing? All things to think about—and think she did.

  The blender brashly buzzed then silenced. Riley returned with a dark green shake disguised in a pink cup. “Here you go.”

  She took the drink like a good little sol
dier and sipped it so he’d relax. He was so good—good to her, good to his sister, good to her parents, good to Marla. She’d never believed such an incredible man could exist.

  It seemed a shame to waste all that goodness. Hopefully by winters end this nightmare would be over, but that seemed unlikely. Losing a winter to play nursemaid was fine, but he couldn’t sacrifice more than that, not when he was perfectly healthy and capable of doing all the things she was not.

  He was too good to waste another second on this disease. And what if there weren’t any more winters? What if this one was it? He was too invested, losing himself in her decline. He couldn’t forget who he was like she’d forgotten who she used to be. He had to live, because he still had the privilege. Placing her hand in his, he turned and smiled.

  “Don’t wait too long, Riley.”

  His mouth curved down and he scowled. “What?”

  “If I go, don’t wait too long to fall in love again. You’re too good at it to put it aside for grief. Promise me you won’t wait too long.”

  His eyes scorched with dark rage. He’d never looked at her with such anger. “Shut. Up.”

  She couldn’t shut up. This was important. Who knew if the treatment was working or how much time they actually had left? “I want you to know I’d be okay if you found someone else—”

  “Knock it off!” Ripping his hand from hers, he stood. Snatching up the empty cup, he marched it to the kitchen where he angrily threw it in the sink.

  She flinched, but waited for him to collect himself, knowing this was a difficult but inevitable conversation. The water shut off and he braced his hands on the lip of the counter, his back toward her.

  “I have cancer, Riley.”

  He turned, a look of confusion on his face. Maybe it was more obvious to him. He’d been watching it happen. She, on the other hand, had been riding along, staring perplexedly at the stranger now controlling her body. She was that stranger and she’d never felt more detached from herself.

  “Why are you saying shit like that?”

  Her head lowered. Didn’t he understand? She loved him too. Not only was this disease killing her, it was killing parts of him. He didn’t deserve to suffer. She was the abnormal part to his once normal life. And when an abnormality was found, it was removed, wasn’t that right?

  His face softened and he returned to her side, taking up the empty space on the couch. “Em?”

  Lifting her wrist, she noted how thin it had become. “How do you love this, Riley?”

  “Don’t start this, Emma.”

  “I mean it. How do you do it? How do you continue to watch me wither away and make me smoothies and love me the way you do?”

  “I just do.” He shook his head, a baffled look in his eyes. “I didn’t fall in love with your wrists or your breasts or your hair. It’s you I love.”

  “I know you do.” His love was the best medicine. It healed her in a way modern medicine couldn’t. His reassurance was essential in this scary state of mind, but not enough to relieve her turmoil. As much as his love saved her on her worst days, it could kill him if he never let it go.

  She selfishly wanted his love, knowing every drop was a part of him he’d never get back, but she couldn’t let him lose himself to a memory. “All your love...it won’t reach my grave, Riley. Don’t waste everything you have to offer on a ghost. I love you too much to let that happen.”

  “Stop it. We aren’t having this conversation.”

  She caught his arm, stilling him from getting away. She didn’t have the strength to chase or argue. “But I need to have it.” Something major had occurred to her, something life altering. She needed to get it out. “You’re an incredible man. Whatever happens, don’t rob the world of that. You have so much love in your heart. Give it to someone who’s living.”

  His jaw shifted. “Damn it, Emma. Stop.”

  But she couldn’t. “The idea that I might have to do chemo again scares the hell out of me, Riley. Every day I don’t think I can get any weaker, but I do.”

  Breathing roughly, he sat and cupped her face in his palms, his intense eyes staring into hers. “You’re strong, Emma. The second you start planning for death you get weak. Don’t get weak when you’ve fought so hard this far.”

  She sighed. She was already weaker than he realized. “I’m scared.”

  “You’re not going to die.”

  “It’s not death that scares me. I think what it all comes down to is my fear of being alone. Cancer’s lonely.”

  “I’m here,” he argued. “Rarity and your parents are here. You’re not alone.”

  She blinked, her eyes burning more than usual. “But if I die, I can’t take any of you with me.” Her voice cracked. “That’s what makes this so terrifying. No matter how much support I have here and now, the connection will get severed at some point.”

  “I want you to stop talking like that, Emma. I’m serious.”

  No matter how much the words hurt to say, they didn’t penetrate her calm. For weeks she’d done little more than think. Somewhere in the process of all that thinking, she started accepting her fate. “We’re all dying, Riley. Some a little faster than others, but it’s the only guarantee in this world. We will all eventually die. I’m not afraid to say it, because death doesn’t matter—it’s a given. The privilege is life, and I so desperately want another chance at living.”

  “You’ll get one.”

  “If I don’t, you have to promise you’ll live for me. Do everything you can, Riley, and live. Don’t waste a single minute thinking about death. A broken heart won’t bring me back and I don’t want to think of you broken if I have to go. When I leave, I know you’ll be the last worry I hold in my heart, because you’ll always be my first concern.”

  His face tightened and he glanced away, shoulders jerking as he gave an admirable effort to keep his composure. He sniffled, wiped his nose, and cleared his throat. “Emma, I swear to you, I’m living. I know I don’t have to be here, but this is where I want to be and it’s where I’ll stay until this is over and we have our regular lives back. I don’t want to love someone else. I’d give you anything in the world, but I can’t give you that.”

  “Riley, you have to be—”

  “No!” His hand slashed in the air. In a calmer voice, he repeated, “No.”

  Facing her again, he blinked, the whites of his eyes a soft shade of pink. “You’re the syrup to my pancakes, Em. I don’t want it without you. I know we’re all going to eventually die, but you’re early. It’s not your time yet and I’m not letting go until I’m sure I’ve pulled you back.”

  Her fingers curled around his hand as the tears broke free. Damn him. The sight of his distress ripped her apart. His tears could save her and slay her at the same time.

  “Riley, I’m fighting so hard, because you make me want to live. I don’t ever want to be so far away I can’t feel your love anymore. But I’m tired and I’m scared.”

  Gently, he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I’ll always love you, cakes. I’m sorry, but you can’t tell me not to. And I’m never gonna stop so you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

  “And that’s why I’m too afraid to let go. I could let it all go. But not you. I don’t want to ever let you go.”

  “Then don’t ask it of me.” He kissed her between the eyes. “I’m glad you can’t, because none of this compares to the sort of suffering I’d face living without you.”

  In that moment, her fear subsided, making room for a smidge of selfish hope. Maybe Riley’s love was so powerful it could sustain her life. Maybe it could at least reach her in heaven. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about being so alone.

  ****

  Emma’s chest had been killing her for a solid week, so she braved the shower and examined her breasts only to find something amazing had happened. The tumors were...gone. She couldn’t feel a single lump. It was going to be a good day.

  “Riley!” she screamed and he burst into th
e bathroom, panic etched across his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She held out her hand, not meaning to traumatize him. “Nothing. I’m okay—”

  “Then why’d you yell like that?”

  Taking his hand, she brought it to her breast. “Feel.”

  His brow lowered in concentration as his fingers tenderly inspected her breast. “What am I looking for? Did you find something?”

  “No. There’s nothing there.” He didn’t seem as impressed by this miracle as she was. Her confidence trembled. Maybe she was wrong. “Do you feel anything?”

  His touch was so clinical. The longer he held her boob so raptly fixated on it like he was dismantling a bomb or trying to crack a safe, she started to giggle.

  “Shh.”

  She shook her head. “So serious. Do you feel them?”

  He stepped back, folded his arms, and frowned at her chest. “No.”

  A deep breath siphoned in her lungs, lifting her breast as she smiled. “I knew it! They’re gone!”

  His eyes jumped to hers, pleading. “You don’t know that, Emma. They were there long before you felt them.”

  Her face hardened as he stuck a pin in her positive mood. She had enough doubt and cynicism. She didn’t want that right now. “Why aren’t you happy?”

  “I...I am happy, but I don’t want you to get false hope.”

  “There’s no such thing as false hope, Riley. There’s hope or there’s nothing. Period.” Pushing past him, she wrapped herself in a towel.

  “Then I don’t want you to get your hopes up—”

  She growled and walked away. “I need to get dressed.”

  “Emma—”

  “Just leave me alone.” Blinking back tears she marched to her room and shut the door before he could follow her. Then she cried. Her short-lived excitement dashed before she had the chance to fully embrace it.

  Later that night, he came to bed and apologized. “This past month’s put me on the frontlines of what’s real, Em. I have a hard time believing what’s not.”

  “Do you believe the chemo’s working?” she asked, needing to hear him say he did.