My Skylar (12 page)

for Mitch, and I’ll come home soon. I love you.”

Dead silence.

Mitch returned to the phone. “Friggin’ unbelievable.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Poor baby.”

“Poor baby? Poor
me
, stuck with a lovesick bird. Do you know he shit on me the other day?”

I laughed harder. It felt good.

“You think that’s funny, huh?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Well, if it’s making you laugh, it’s worth it. That’s gonna be my goal: to make you laugh at

least once a day.”

Laughter got the best of me at least a dozen more times that night. Mitch stayed on the phone

with me for hours until I fell asleep. I didn’t even remember saying goodbye.

The following evening, not only would I look like I had cancer, I’d feel like it for the first time, too.

***

because I couldn’t stand up without feeling like I was going to throw up. The chemo nausea I kept

hearing about had finally caught up with me. From the beginning, I had been taking Zofran, an

anti-nausea med., but it didn’t seem to be working for me anymore.

The skin in my mouth also started getting really sore, and I developed mouth ulcers, which

went along just great with the vomiting, by the way.

Seeing as though I couldn’t even get out of bed, it was hard for me to answer texts and talk on

the phone. Even sitting up to watch television felt impossible.

Mitch called the house phone when I didn’t answer my cell, and my father had to tell him

what was going on.

I heard my father’s voice downstairs. “Skylar has terrible nausea, Mitch. She’s not able to come

to the phone. I’ll tell her you called.”

He’d be worried, and I hated not being able to explain it myself, but my inability to gather

enough energy even to talk to him for a second was a testament to how bad I felt.

After my father hung up the phone, he peeked in on me. “That was Mitch, honey.”

I simply nodded and rolled over onto my side.

“You want some ginger ale?” he asked.

“No.”

“Mom is coming a day early.”

I shook my head in acknowledgement.

My mother normally arrived every Friday night. My Dad and Lizete were cordial to her, and

even though Mom was uncomfortable, she tried not to let it show. She’d spend most of her visits

in my room, or we used to go out for a little when I was feeling up to it. Then, she’d sleep at her second cousin’s house about ten minutes away.

My phone chimed, and I knew it was Mitch. I needed to know what it said and struggled to

reach over to the nightstand.

Your Dad told me. Don’t worry about texting back. I’m here anytime day or

night, though. You’re gonna get through this. Counting the days til Saturday.

My already sick stomach was in knots at the thought of him seeing me like this. I’d have to see

how I felt, but if my condition stayed the same, there was no way I could let him visit.

Lizete came into the room with some chicken broth. “M’ija, sit up. You have to eat something.

You need your strength.”

“I can’t. Just the smell is making me want to vomit again.”

“Please. Just try.”

I knew I needed to have something in my stomach. I sat up and sipped the cloudy broth

slowly. It tasted gamey and gross, causing my stomach to rumble, but I forced half of it down.

The nausea kept me up most of that night. Around four in the morning, I started to feel a little

better and wished it weren’t too early to call Mitch. He had told me to call anytime, but I didn’t

want to wake him a couple of hours before he had to get up for school.

I decided to check facebook instead, even though I vowed to avoid it lately. It was a constant

reminder of everything I was missing back home. Mitch had an account but never used it. I saw

that someone had tagged him in a post from last night.

Brielle Decker

Watching the new Batman movie —with Mitch Nichols.

My heart started palpitating. Brielle was a girl he dated at one time. I kept staring at the

status. Technically, Mitch and I weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but if the cancer hadn’t

happened, we would be together. He did say we’d take up where we left off when I was better, but

we never clarified exactly what that meant for us in the meantime. He never explicitly said he

wasn’t
going to date anyone else.

The reality was, girls were constantly after him. I just didn’t expect him to run out with one

when he was supposedly so concerned about me.

My stomach was still churning when I picked up the phone and texted him.

Hope you had fun on your movie date with Brielle.

He didn’t respond.

I rolled over and put the covers over my head just as another bad wave of nausea hit. After

several minutes, I started to regret sending the text. It wasn’t realistic for me to expect Mitch to stop living for the next six months or more. He would start to resent me. But it was a Catch 22

because the thought of other girls getting to have time with him that would have been mine was

impossible to accept. I wasn’t able to handle it like before.

Since I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night, I ended up nodding off around six am.

My ringtone woke me an hour later. It was Mitch. If I didn’t answer, it would bother me all

day.

My voice was groggy. “Hello?”

“Thank God you picked up.”

“What is it?”

“I just saw your text. I was asleep when you sent it. That’s why I didn’t answer. We’re on our

way to school now and running late. Listen—”

“You don’t need to explain. You have every right to live your life. You can’t wait around while I

—”

“Fuck that, Skylar.” His tone was angry. “Listen to me, okay? Last night when I called your

house and your father told me how sick you were, I felt helpless. I was pacing my room. I had just

wanted to hear your voice. Are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“Davey shows up at seven, and I had totally forgotten that I promised him we’d go see the new

Batman movie. I told him I didn’t want to go.”

“So, you ended up going with Brielle instead.”

I heard some rustling then Davey’s voice.

“Skylar?”

“Davey?”

“Romeo is taking too long to get to the fucking point. I showed up last night. He looked like

the walking dead. He told me he needed a drink. He was worried sick over you, and I was worried

about him. The fucking bird was barking. I dragged him to the movies, reminded him he’d still

have his phone if you called. That bitch happened to be there with her friend. They sat next to us, and she tagged him on facebook. He was checking his phone every five seconds to see if you called,

not even paying attention to the movie. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

That was the beauty of Davey. He had no stronger allegiance to either one of us and had no

reason to lie. Relief washed over me.

“Thanks. Put Mitch back on the phone.”

It felt like my blood pressure lowered with the return of his voice. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry. This is just so hard.”

“No. I’m the one that’s sorry. Apparently, I never made things clear to you. I’m not interested

in anyone else. I haven’t dated anyone since the night we kissed. I thought you already figured

that out. I only want
you
, Skylar.”

My bald head shone in the reflection of the mirror over my chest of drawers, and a tear fell.

“I’m only half of me right now.”

“I’d take a half of you over anything else that’s whole in the world.”

I heard Davey in the background. “Dude, get me a band-aid cuz my ears are bleeding.”

I couldn’t help but laugh through my tears. “I miss you. I miss him. I miss home.”

“I might be physically here, but every second of every day, my heart is with you. Please promise

me you’re not going to waste the energy you need to get better worrying about foolish things. Talk

to me if something is bothering you.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Just think…in two more days, we’ll finally be together for Christmas.”

***

Christmas and instead of celebrating it with Mitch, I spent it in the hospital.

He was livid because I wouldn’t tell him where I was out of fear he would show up. He finally

agreed to stay away only because I told him I needed to be isolated due to the risk of infection.

That was a white lie since the doctor had only said not to make close contact with people but that

it was okay to be around them.

Mitch had a slight cold, and that was the only thing that kept him from pushing the issue. I

just couldn’t bear to let him see me so weak. My weight had plummeted, and on the days when

the fever returned, I couldn’t tolerate wearing anything on my head.

It all started the day before Mitch had been scheduled to visit. My fever escalated in the middle

of the night, and my oncologist, Dr. Vega, advised my parents to take me to the hospital. Thank

God my mother had come early and was with me.

Once admitted, a test showed that my white blood cell count was low. To prevent infection, the

doctor on call immediately put me on a drug to help increase cell count along with antibiotics

through an IV.

I’d been in and out of the hospital ever since with recurring fevers and had to spend several

nights there. They ended up postponing my next chemo treatment, which meant an even longer

time before this nightmare would be over.

The worst part was, being stuck in the hospital gave me way too much time to think. The more

horrible I felt, the harder it was to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Even though the prognosis with Hodgkins was a promising one, some days I felt like the chemo was going to kill me if the

cancer didn’t.

I just wanted to live my life. Was that too much to ask? Even though I had no physical energy,

my mind was going at warp speed. I felt paralyzed and became obsessed with doing everything I

never had a chance to. I wanted to travel, drive a car, try sushi…and I wanted to have sex with

Mitch. That was the big one. I didn’t want to die without knowing what that felt like. I wasn’t

ready, but I was scared I’d never have the opportunity.

There was no one I could talk to about it, either. Angie was too young and inexperienced

herself, and my mother couldn’t handle talking about sex. I wasn’t comfortable enough with

Lizete and worried she’d tell my father.

The irony was, on top of having all of these grown-up feelings, they stuck me in the pediatric

cancer unit. The volunteers there—candy stripers—came by constantly to “cheer me up.” Maybe it

worked for the ten-year-olds down the hall, but I really could have done without the bullshit. They talked to me like I was five or had a hearing problem. In their defense, my bald head did make me

look younger than I was.

After a while, though, I’d had enough. One afternoon, an innocent striper named Fran became

the unfortunate recipient of my wrath.

“Hi, Skylar! What a pretty name! How are you doing today? Look what I have here for you. It’s

a—”

“Wait a minute. Are you on speed? You asked me how I was doing, but you never waited for a

response. You just kept talking.”

“Oh. Well, I—”

“That’s because you don’t really
want to know
how I’m doing, do you?”

“Of course. I—”

“You do? Well, I have sores in my mouth, bruises on my body, and I look like Elmer Fudd. So, I

feel like shit, actually. Meanwhile, my pussy is on fire because all I can seem to think about is sex, even though I can’t move. Do you have something to fix that?”

“Um…”

“Maybe some weed?”

Fran had to leave suddenly, and two hours later, a psychologist came to “check on me.”

***

few days after my outburst, someone new showed up outside of my hospital room. At first, I

thought she was just another volunteer. She stood in the doorway and looked lost. I thought

maybe she was just hesitant to come in because she had heard about my reputation as a “difficult”

patient. I soon realized she
was
lost and hadn’t come to see me at all. For some strange reason, I wished she had.

She looked to be in her early twenties, with long, blonde hair. She was short and skinny but

with big boobs and a butt. She looked like a mini Barbie doll with a donkey ass. She was a

beautiful piece of the outside world in this stagnant place. I wished she could take me with her

wherever she was going when she left.

I felt her energy stronger than most. That usually meant the person was someone I would have

a connection with. I didn’t know anything about her, but somehow needed to know her. I also

sensed that she, too, had a lot on her mind.

When her eyes met mine, there was no pity in them, just curiosity. I was lonely and didn’t

want her to leave. So, I shut the television off and started a conversation with her. I pretended to assume she was one of the volunteers and asked her to come in. I told her I wanted to talk about

sex as a test to see how she handled it.

Her name was Nina. Within seconds, she became everything to me.

She sat down and listened as I told her all about Mitch and my fears: being away from him,

ultimately losing him and never knowing what it felt like to truly be with him.

Basically, in one hour, I unloaded everything onto her, and she gave me honest, non-