NEVER GOODBYE (An Albany Boys Novel) (21 page)

              I’m sorry, but that’s too much for me and some of the others. The laughter and squeals ricocheting in the gym is almost as loud as a touchdown-made fan eruption during a game. I may have a pelvic floor whatever, but I will never be holding anything in there other than what’s meant to be there. 

              “Don’t stop now. Thrust and squeeze and hold.”

              Blue is laughing, but she is still thrusting and nodding for me to cooperate, which I really don’t want to and yet I know I will because she wants me to. Thankfully I have two half-hearted thrusts before we are told to roll onto our sides. Praise all that is holy. The end of the money box thrust. I don’t think I’ll look at a money box quite the same way again, much less a coin.

              By the end of class, I’ve broken a good sweat, my abdomen has received a massive workout and two girls outdo me in planking. I thought the girls’ health class would be lame, but these chicks can bring it. It turns out the new teacher’s name is Miss Jenkins and I have a new appreciation and respect for her and her methods. I was grateful that I outlasted Blue on each challenge, though. Chauvinist? Yeah. In this case I can live with that. It did surprise how quickly she tired for a dancer. As I pick her up she doesn’t fight me; she merely giggles and snuggles as I take her toward to the girls’ locker room while Carter and April laugh behind us.

              It’s not normal to be this tired. Is she coming down with something? We get to the door and I put her down. She smiles and kisses my cheek, but won’t meet my eyes. Something is wrong. It’s not us. It’s something else. April comes to her side and she sees it too. What the hell?

              “Come on, Harp, we stink. Let’s shower up before next class.” She then ushers them in and before I can stop them and ask questions the door is closing and Carter takes my shoulder.

              “Dude, they can shower without us. If we’re caught in there, we’ll be fried.”

              I glance at him and he’s looking at me as though I’m crazy. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m overreacting. I don’t know. I’ve never loved anyone. I’ve never had a relationship before and I certainly wouldn’t know what an overreaction was if it smacked me in the nuts. So I nod and go with Carter as he chatters. He’s talking, but I don’t really hear him. He’s like broken white noise. I hear an odd word here and there until we’re in the locker room with the team and then the white noise is endless.

***
 

              I don’t see her in math and within ten minutes and two unanswered texts later it’s pointless me being here. I don’t even hear Mister Parker ask me where I’m going. I just shove my shit in my bag and I’m out the door heading for school nurse. If she is sick, maybe that’s where she went.

              I could probably count on one hand how many times I have run down this hall desperately. One was when Trav let the cat out of the bag about my dad’s affair. Two was when I got a call from the hospital about my mom and, three is now. There’s no reasoning that requires this kind of rush, other than feeling it in my gut.

              The door is open and I fling myself through the doorway, heaving for air. The nurse jumps and rushes to me, but I wave her off and ask for Harper, only to be told she hasn’t been seen. Then the next step is her house. Even if she did sign herself out, I don’t have a legitimate reason to do so for myself. So, skipping is my best option.

              My truck keys are in my hand and I skid to a halt when my cell buzzes in my pocket. It’s Blue. “Are you okay?”

              “Yeah. Tired, but okay. I just saw your text and thought I better call and leave a message. Wait. You should be in math. How are you answering your cell in math?”

              “I was on my way to your place looking for you. When you didn’t show―”

              “Where are you now, Vaun?” she sounds urgent, panicked. I keep heading for my truck because I need to see her.

              “On my way.” A white lie, though if she knows I’m still at school, she’ll fight me.

              “No, I’m actually on my way to Kansas with Dad and April.”

              “I thought you weren’t heading out until after lunch.”

              “I was tired and I knew I wouldn’t be any good in class, so I figured I may as well head off now, ya know?”

              I want to say no, because I wouldn’t miss one moment with her and I thought she was the same. I guess not. “Sure. Math versus a road trip.” Bracing against the roof of the truck, door open, the heat wave hits me in the face. I don’t give a shit.

              “Vaun?”

              “Yeah.”

              “‘I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon; I’ll call you when I get there. Then I need to see you.”

              “I need to see you, too.”

              “Okay. Tomorrow night then,” she sounds hopeful and I feel it.

              “It’s a date,” I say, “Love you.”

              “I love you,” she sighs heavily and then she’s gone and I feel sick. I know she loves me. We shared something special the other night and I feel it every time I look at her. But that doesn’t stop the fear that something is so very, very wrong between us right now, that something is very wrong with her.

Harper

              If you said I hate hospitals it would be a colossal understatement. As soon as I smell the antiseptic smell my stomach turns and I run to the bathroom with April calling my name behind me. Barely making it to the stall, I lose what is left in my stomach before heaving and coughing while April hushes me and rubs my back.

              It’s ridiculous to start vomiting before I’ve even started treatment, yet here I am. As I hold the toilet and hope that the heaving has ended, I try my best not to think about the germs I might be touching.

              My breathing has returned to normal and I push up to my feet with April firmly behind me. I love her so damn much. I know the girl hates puke and yet here she is, rubbing my back and we didn’t even have the fun that would normally lead to such an act. At least she didn’t have to hold my hair back. The bun was a good idea.

              “Thank you,” I say and smile a little to assure her I’m better. I don’t think she buys it, but she smiles anyway and grabs some paper towel, wets it and hands it to me.

              “You would do the same, so don’t sweat it.”

Oh my gosh, the damp towel feels wonderful against my skin that has a light sweat now. I need more, so I freshen up at the sink with the soap and paper towel until I have convinced myself I don’t smell of vomit and toilets.

“Is Dad waiting outside?”

“I’d say so. He followed us to the door.”

I sigh and wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Come on. We need to hit the cafeteria or the lab before I sign in. I need breath mints.”

She pulls away from me a little, scrunching up her face.  “Yes. Yes you do.” She laughs as she swats at her nose and I cover my mouth laughing.

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up! You keep breathing on me.”

Dad’s visibly relieved to see me and April laughing, but is still lost as to how to help me.

“Can I do anything? Get you anything?” he asks, rubbing his dark stubble. He’s so sweet that I feel sorry for him to have to deal with this life and I’m glad he is here even though he can’t really help. No one can, really. They can just hold my hand and be there for me when I need them.

“Can you get me some mints or anything to freshen my breath? I didn’t really think about that.”

“Of course. I’ll go to the cafeteria, or … I don’t know if they will have any but I’ll find you some and meet you at sign in. You’re running late and they said they have to do a finger prick blood test before you start.”

“Yeah I remember. Thanks, Dad.” April grabs my hand and we both head to the elevator. I know how to get to oncology from my meeting with the doctor. The elevator is hot and smells funny, so I’m relieved when the short ride is over and we’re out. The antiseptic smell is stronger and I hold my breath as I calm myself and grip April’s hand tighter. She looks at me and I force another smile. This time she doesn’t smile, she kisses my cheek and hugs me so hard I could nearly puke again.

“You’re going to be fine. This is the means to an end of the shittiest thing you will ever face in your entire life. You can do this, I believe in you.”

I think I’m going to freaking cry right here in the hall. “I love you, April Gillespie. I love your fucking guts so much.”

“I know,” she says and laughs. “Now let’s get this shit over with so we can head home and live life to the fullest.”

“You just want to see Carter.”

“You want to see Vaun. By the way―”

“Don’t say it. I feel like an asshole as it is,” I say, and I mean it. I’m about to have my first treatment and I haven’t told him. He’s my boyfriend and he has no idea I’m dying and trying to stop it.

“I know you tried. I just wish he knew. I wish it was easier for you and I know he would have helped with that. Now it’s going to be that much harder.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll tell him when we meet up after I feel better. I told him as much.”

“Good. Now come on; we’re late.”

I sign in before heading back downstairs to the lab, where they do the blood test and I have my finger pricked. I gotta say, those little suckers hurt. But it’s better than another fully fledged needle, I guess.

My white cells are low, but the doctor doesn’t want to risk anymore time without treatment, so we start. He pleads with me to reconsider and get a central line placed in my chest to my main artery for efficiency. But the thought of a foreign thing permanently in my chest that I have to clean and tape up every day, is a complete turn off. Efficiency be damned, put a needle in me and let’s poison me already.

I’m in a recliner that’s cold and all I can think about is how many sick and dying people have sat right here in this very chair before me. It’s as I look around me and see the varying stages of what this illness does that I realize it will be me shortly, and I’m suddenly more scared than ever. Soon there will be someone looking at me sitting in this chair with no hair, pasty skin and holding a bowl in preparation for losing the contents of my stomach.

I’m not just dying, I’m sick, and now is the beginning of the path where I get better but will feel and look worse. Was I prepared for this particular kick in the pants? No. Was I blind to reality? More than likely.

Now, however, the blindfold has been lifted and I’m left with the stark reality that is my life as long as God sees it in his graces to keep me here. I’m not sure if I’ve earned it or if I will get to stay for Benny, Dad or even Vaun, but I really, really hope so.

“This will sting a little,” the nurse says apologetically as she rests the needle above my skin and the bulging blue vein wanting release of the tourniquet.

It freakin’ does sting, but then it’s gone and the nurse is taping the big ass needle down on my hand. She turns to the drip machine, pushing various buttons, before turning back to me with her hand ready to release the clamp stopping the cocktail of chemicals they call chemo from entering my vein. “Are you ready, honey?” At least the nurse, her badge says Wendy, is nice. She has this smile that’s warm and loving and despite what’s about to happen, I relax just that little bit.

April squeezes my hand while my dad stands to the side of me, nodding his head with encouragement. My support team is ready, so I am too. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say to Wendy and my team.

Wendy smiles and releases the clamp to my fight for life.

So it begins.

10

The light & darkness of truth

Harper

‘The truth is rarely pure and never simple’.

Oscar Wilde

              I consider myself a reasonably intelligent girl. As I lie in my bed at home, curled into a little ball, I not only feel like complete, shitty death, but also a moron.

              You shouldn’t put so much faith in television; they obviously glorify chemotherapy to a point because I swear, all I wanted was to live, and now, I’m so close to wanting to die. Sleep will have to do; it’s just that it doesn’t keep me from being sick.

              Every time the saliva builds in my mouth and my stomach clenches its death grip, I’m awake and leaning over for the bucket that smells like hospitals, but less intense.

              At this point, I have nothing left to throw up. Actually that status was nine hours ago. Now, I keep choking on my own stomach and it’s way too disgusting to think about the rest. I just want it to stop.

              April is rubbing my back. She’s been snuggling with me since I was practically carried into the car. Dad drove while April held me in the back seat like a sick child and supplied me with sick bags. We could have stayed in Kansas City but I said no, I didn’t want to leave Benny at home worrying about me. Although, as soon as we got home and he saw how sick I was, it may have been a moot point.

              I’m so tired. So, so tired. I just want to sleep it all away and by morning I will feel better. The doctor said I’ll probably feel a little nauseated and tired tomorrow, but I want to see Vaun so I’ll tough it out. Dad wants me to take the next two days off so I can have those and the Labor Day weekend to recover. I can’t go that long without telling Vaun or seeing him.

              Then morning comes all too soon and I hate my life. I don’t think I got a solid thirty minutes sleep which means that April didn’t either. I hate myself for that because I know she’s be busting to see Carter as I am to see Vaun, but every time I get even the smallest amount of liquid in me, it comes back up. There is no way I can tough that out. Instead I fall back against the mattress and pillow, willing myself to settle and sleep before the next convulsion.

              This is how it goes on until Dad and April pull me from the bed and I’m in the car again. I’m too tired to even see or ask where we are going. I just drift in and out of sleep, wishing I could have a drink and have it stay down.