La Vie en Rose {Life in Pink} (28 page)

They continued listing various objectives, but Emma never suggested anything that cost more than a hundred dollars. It pissed him off that she dreamed on a budget, because life should be limitless, a gross indulgence from beginning to end.

Cold cut through his haze, bringing about a sense of urgency he could barely combat sober and refused to face stoned. She had so much to accomplish, so much to experience, but an unquestionable amount of time. They all did, but hers seemed to be spiraling faster.

He needed her to be there with him. He wanted to watch her face change every time she saw something new. No matter how pretty the site, the awe in her eyes would always win.

“See the Northern Lights,” he suggested. She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher, but she also didn’t object when Rarity wrote it down. “Go to the top of the Eiffel Tower,” he added, thinking of every possible place that might leave her as breathless as she left him.

“Cliché,” Rarity commented, but wrote it down anyway. “Oh, see the Fairy Pools on the Isle of Skye.”

Lexi pointed, taking a sip of her drink. “Good one.”

“What are the Fairy Pools?” Emma asked.

Rarity gazed at her and hummed, her eyes lighting as though she were seeing the pools now. “A place in Scotland. It’s beautiful, like heaven on earth. I want to photograph them one day.”

“Then you should go,” Emma said. “Put it on the list! This will be
our
bucket list and we’ll make sure each one of us does everything we hoped to do before it’s too late.”

He stared at her, enthralled, or maybe perplexed. Perhaps it was fear. Perhaps it was the ganja. He didn’t care what the cause. He never wanted to stop dreaming with her, never wanted it to be too late.

Wanting things he never thought about seemed to be the norm since falling in love with Emma—
she
made certain things worth wanting. Staring at her, the words slipped out, but no regret followed. “Get married.”

Both Emma and Rarity pivoted and gawked at him, eyes wide, mouths opened like a couple of trout.

He shrugged. “It’s on my list.”

Rarity turned, observing Emma who was still staring at him.

“Riley...” Emma rasped, her chest lifting with each breath.

He swallowed. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. No one said she’d want to spend the rest of her life with him. His sister actually blushed, clearly embarrassed for him.

Lexi took the notebook and pen from her and jotted it on the list. “That’s on my list too.” She gave his sister a meaningful smile.

Emma looked down, a strange expression on her face he’d never seen before. She smirked, but her eyes were so incredibly sad.

No sadness!

He stood and cranked up the stereo, doing his best Bowie impression and belting out the chorus of
Suffragette City
. He didn’t stop dancing until the sadness in her eyes was gone.

****

T
hey heard back from the doctor sooner than expected. Emma’s ultrasound was scheduled immediately, throwing them all in a state of alarm. Very little talking happened over the following two days as they prepared for whatever information might come.

The doctor told Emma that while there was a small abnormality in the mammogram results, they needed an ultrasound to determine if the mass was made of fluid, like a cyst, or if it was solid, like a tumor. It seemed words like tumor took up so much space in his mind there wasn’t room for much else.

Sitting beside her on the couch, he tried to follow the punch lines of the sitcom, but couldn’t tell if they were watching
Friends
or
Big Bang.
His head was so fucked up. A tumor? A
tumor
? People their age didn’t worry about things like tumors.

Fighting back the queasiness that persisted since she got her results, he laced his fingers in hers and squeezed. It was just a mass, some foreign abnormality that would get taken out and everything would go back to normal. But as the day carried on the memory of normal blurred. Borrowing trouble seemed an unavoidable habit he couldn’t break and soon, as if she could sense his worry, she withdrew, sitting too far for him to touch.

The deprivation of contact ate at him, gnawing at his already chewed up gut. Rarity cleaned like a possessed woman as Emma sat unmoving and he existed in a brutal state of turmoil. Desperation, to say
anything
beat at him, but no one wanted to talk. What was there to say?

She sat on the far end of the couch with Marla, hugging the boo-boo blanket like a depressed Linus. He hated when the girls got quiet. The second they started acting stranger than usual, withdrawing, the world tipped on end.

He had no control over the balance of his life, which was fine until he found something he wanted to control, to keep. Now his world rested in the balance of another person’s happiness and it was torture not knowing what was going through her head. Maybe she wasn’t thinking about it at all.

Why did they get all the control, their moods affecting the ecosystem of an otherwise passive moment? The news was terrifying enough, but the shrouding weight that came with their silence made his apprehension that much more problematic—horrifyingly so. They were like witches, with their cycles all connected to the moon and shit. It was supernatural sorcery he didn’t trust and that only convinced him more bad news was coming and they —the witch women—somehow already knew.

Ready to scream, he scrubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “Let’s get out of the apartment for a while.”

Emma didn’t lift her gaze from the television. “I don’t feel like it.” Her voice gave no clue to her mood. Maybe she was just tired. Maybe she was actually watching the show. If she was going as crazy as he was wouldn’t she want a distraction?

Unable to sit any longer in a guessing game of
if she was sulking or fine
, he grabbed his coat and left. No one seemed to mind.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he aimlessly drifted into the gaggles of pedestrians, weaving in and out of the foot traffic. But no matter how far he walked he couldn’t escape his thoughts.

Of course the mammogram identified something. They all felt it. If the results had come back inconclusive they wouldn’t have found peace of mind, because they all knew
something
was there. The ultrasound was inevitable, so why had the act of scheduling it plunged the loft’s residents into an impending sense of doom? Where was the hope? This was just the next step toward getting the lump out, not a death sentence.

He swallowed, wooziness once again making his mouth water. It was
not
a death sentence. The ultrasound would identify the mass, she’d have a few more tests, and they’d get it the hell out. Then life would return to normal and this bad dream would end.

He roamed the city, unsure where he was heading until he was knocking on his friend Jake’s door. Unclear what he was doing there or what his friend had been up to for the past five months, he considered leaving, but the door opened.

Jake did a double take. “Riley? Holy shit. What are you doing here?”

“Freezing,” he said, hunching into his coat. “You busy? Wanna grab a beer?” He needed to piss and find a place to warm up—someplace other than home.

“Yeah. Come in. Let me get my shoes and fleece.”

He followed Jake inside and waited as he searched for his boots. “Mind if I use your john?”

“You know where it is.”

When he came out of the bathroom Jake was ready. “So where have you been? I haven’t see you since Jillian’s Fourth of July thing.”

“I, uh, actually started dating someone.”

He stilled and cocked a brow. “Really? Like...serious dating?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious. You know my roommate, Emma?”

Jake’s mouth turned up with a slow smile. “Rarity’s friend?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Laughing at how ridiculous he must sound, he admitted, “I’m totally gone for her. It’s crazy.”

“No freaking way.” He zipped up his fleece. “Let’s go to McFadden’s. First round’s on me.”

As they briskly walked to the pub, Riley explained how different Emma was from every other girl. He couldn’t stop going on about her. Even when they had their first drink finished, he continued rambling about how great she was.

It was unheard of, the irony that he had become
that guy.
He could’ve written a hundred sonnets about just one of her eyelashes. But there was no mocking or ball breaking coming from Jake, nor was there any shame in Riley’s affection. She was awesome and he knew how lucky he was to finally realize that.

“You really are a goner,” Jake said. “Does she have any friends?”

He chuckled. “Only lesbians and men.”

Jake laughed and sat back with his beer. “I’m really happy for you, Ri. It sounds like you found
The One
. You gonna marry her, take roomie to groomie?”

His smile faded, recalling how sad her eyes got the last time he brought up the subject. “I don’t know. It’s too soon for that, but... I kind of feel like it’s a now or never thing.”

“Why now or never? There’s nothing wrong with waiting.”

Maybe he was just freaking out. “She’s having some tests done. Shit’s been a little stressful lately.”

His friend frowned. “What kind of tests?”

Flagging down the bartender, he ordered another drink. “She found a cyst in her breast. Tomorrow we find out if it’s cancerous or not.” It was the first time any of them had spoken the word out loud.

Jake’s face froze. “Holy fuck, are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He laughed nervously and rubbed the heel of his palms over his forehead. “I’m freaking out.”

His friend glanced at the bar, only bringing his gaze halfway back to him. “I wish I knew what to say.” He shook his head. “She’s young for that, right?”

Riley waved away the whole injustice of her age. It had been a repetitive complaint in his mind since the start of this and getting infuriated over the unfairness of the situation didn’t make life any more bearable. “It’s not unheard of.”

“I’m sorry, man.” And that was it. No
it’ll be all right.
No
I’m sure the tests will come back negative.
Cancer was fucking scary and people avoided even breathing the word into conversation for fear they might tempt its hideousness into their lives.

The bartender delivered his beer as the companionable conversation waned into utter silence. He knew what he was thinking, could almost scent his discomfort. The statistics were broadcasted in every ribbon, parade, and donation bin they passed on a daily basis.

Riley stared at his bottle, his friend’s apology ringing in his ears. It was a sincere attempt to comfort, but his situation was so personal, so isolated, there could be no empathy when the reality was simply unimaginable. Jake couldn’t possibly understand what he was going through or grasp the fear rushing through his mind. The terror he couldn’t curb by even one degree until this nightmare ended.

He appreciated his attempted sympathy, but it was more manners and an ingrained response than anything else. When you heard someone might have cancer, you showed the proper amount of concern, pinned a ribbon on your clothes, and forgot as quickly as you heard—out of sight out of mind. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t enough, but it was the reality.

Living it was a different actuality. It was raw, inescapable, and so much more than a blip of unfortunate circumstances that might pass. The worry, the wavering prediction of how much time this would steal, the taxing amount of stress it put on every aching brain cell from overthinking every possible fucking outcome. In the blink of an eye that blip blotted out his entire view, and nothing he did could make him see things the same again.

He didn’t need his friends to understand the fear, but he wanted them to appreciate how important Emma was, how different she was from every other girl. But they never would because all the laughter, all the secret moments of trust, they were private and not meant for others, which was exactly why it was so meaningful that she shared them with him.

No one would ever understand how much she meant to him. She was his everything. What would he do without her? Who would he lean on? He’d be so alone if anything happened to her, alone with unbearable grief no one else could comprehend.

Realizing this, made it imperative that he somehow remain stoic for her. Emma could never know the severity of his fear. Days like today when he wanted to get it out and talk it through, he’d have to swallow his feelings whole, because saying them out loud would only transfer his worry to her and he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let his grief destroy him. He had to be a man, her rock to lean on when she was ready. But who would be his?

Daunted by the unavoidable role he’d have to fill over the next few weeks or however long it took to straighten this shit out, he stuffed down his fear. No amount of hoping would change what was. All he could do was be there for her until the experts figured everything out.

“I’m an idiot,” he mumbled and Jake took his eyes off the bar television that had been acting as a buffer since Riley dropped a bomb on their conversation.

“Why?”

Time suddenly appeared fleeting and precious. “I should be home. She didn’t want to go out and I just left her there.” It didn’t matter that she hadn’t asked him to stay. Since when did girls use anything other than subliminal communication to get what they needed?

Abruptly, he stood and slapped some money on the bar. “I gotta go. Thanks for listening to me.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I needed to clear my head and you helped me do that.” He edged toward the door. “Once everything calms down and we know where things stand, we’ll get together. I want you to meet her.” He nodded and grinned, his fear stuffed down, deep enough that he could envision a positive outcome. Pointing a finger gun at his friend, he clicked his tongue in his cheek, the end target in view. “My future wife.”

Jake lifted his beer and laughed. “To your future wife.”

Riley ran out of the bar, his legs pumping as the cold January wind cut through his clothes. She was sad and he thought he couldn’t handle it. He’d run away, but now he’d found steady ground and needed to get back. He’d be there for her, stoic, solid, a rock.  So long as he didn’t forget his duty, she shouldn’t question whether he could handle her darkest fears. He’d bear whatever ugly thoughts she had, give her a place to spew her worry so she didn’t have to hold it inside. But for her to trust that he could handle it, he had to be present—always by her side and steadily grounded.