Something Had to Give (14 page)

The last period of the day was absolute torture. It was the longest 90 minutes I had ever had to endure. When the bell finally rang I all but sprinted to my car when it hit me that I was scheduled to work right after school. I had to call in. Maybe I could go in late, but I had to make sure Derrick was OK. I called Tim and told him that I wasn’t feeling well and that I would try to make it in later. Though I felt bad and knew Tim was upset that I was calling in at short notice, I felt it was necessary. I drove to Derrick’s house wishing I could teleport myself to get there sooner. I was angry at every red light I hit, but nothing made me angrier when I arrived at Derrick’s house and no one was there. His car as well as his mom’s was gone and it was clear that no one was home. I was mad and annoyed. He knew I was waiting to hear from him, why would he avoid me? More importantly what did this mean? Was he ok or was it bad news? I decided to wait on their front porch and be there when Derrick got home. After an hour I felt like I needed to leave. There was no telling when they would be home and I couldn’t just sit there.

I cried like a baby as I drove away from Derrick’s house. It was so bad that I thought about pulling over until I got myself together. I couldn’t go home and face my parents so I decided to go to work and try to keep busy. I was a mess when I got to work and I had to convince Tim that I was able to work. I tried to call Derrick’s house twice but there was no answer. Each time the answering machine picked up, I was close to tears again and knew I had to stop calling. It was a slow night but I did anything I could come up with stay busy. When my shift ended, I sat in the car dreading going home. It would take energy I didn’t have to pretend that I was OK and if I went home crying it would put my parents in the predicament to not know what to say or do to make me feel better. I didn’t really feel like there was any way to win. As I turned on my street I noticed a familiar orange car parked outside the house. I had been waiting all day to see and talk to Derrick. When the time finally came, I didn’t feel ready. I was nervous. As I parked the car, I had to take several deep breaths.

“Hey”, I casually said as I sat down beside him on the steps to the front porch.

“Hey, what’s up”, he responded without looking up.

I could tell by his voice and demeanor that the appointment had not gone well. I knew I had to prepare myself for bad news. “You weren’t at school today. I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“I took the longest drive I could today after the appointment. I needed sometime to myself to try and process everything.”

“What did the doctor say?” I was nervous to ask but I had to know what was going on.

“The worst possible news. He— “Derrick stopped mid-sentence as his voice began to crack. I wished that I knew what to say at that point, but I didn’t. He continued as I grabbed his hand. “He said that the chemotherapy isn’t working. The tumor is too aggressive.”

The news hit me like a ton of bricks, so I couldn’t imagine how Derrick was feeling. It was the worst possible news. I wanted to remain hopeful and optimistic for him, but how could I? He had so many people praying for him. Why wasn’t’ God listening? “Well then they operate right? I mean I know that’s not what you wanted, it’s not what any of us wanted, but it’s the only option.”

“There won’t be any surgery. The scan they took of my head showed that the tumor is in a location that would make surgery too dangerous.”

“I don’t understand. If the chemo is not working and surgery isn’t an option then what is left to do?”

“Nothing! There is absolutely nothing left to do but sit here and wait for this thing to kill me.”

“You can’t just give up. You told me you were going to fight and beat this thing.”

“I don’t know Cheryl. I don’t know why this had to happen to me and why the chemo didn’t work. I wish I did. We have to prepare ourselves though and face the facts. I’m going to die. The doctor said that unless some miracle happens, I will die soon.”

There was nothing to say after that. What could I say? Derrick had accepted that he was going to die and somehow I had to accept that too.

∞∞∞

The two months following that day, life was such a blur. It was a constant routine of school, work, and worry. I worried every time the phone rang, I worried what Derrick’s mood and physical appearance would be when I went to see him. I worried if it would be the last day I would see or talk to him. Derrick had lost thirty pounds in two months and suffered constantly from painful headaches. His ability to carry out basic motor functions varied on a daily basis, which had a large effect on him mentally. He had missed so many days of school that his mom decided to withdraw him. Most people at school had learned that he was dying and it felt as though once again everyone was looking at me. I was the girl who was cursed to have two people close to her die. I was toxic. What was wrong with me and why did this have to happen again? I asked myself this daily, but unfortunately, I never got an answer.

Derrick was in and out of the hospital so many times it was impossible to keep count. He was always in so much pain and the doctors were never really able to help. I would go to see him each time he had to go to the hospital and each time he refused to let me come in the room. At first his mom would make up excuses about him being too tired for visitors or that the doctors were looking at him. After a while we both got tired of the excuses and I knew to just go straight to the waiting area and wait for his mom to come give me an update. The one time that Derrick actually requested for me to come to see him was during the middle of the night on a Saturday, when he was admitted for vomiting blood. My heart jumped when the phone rang and I contemplated not answering. After talking to Derrick’s mom, I sat and stared at the clock that read 1:48am. I wondered what made him want to see me after being adamant all the other times. What was I walking into? Daddy insisted on riding with me to the hospital since it was so late and I was actually glad that I didn’t have to go alone.

I held my breath when I walked into Derrick’s hospital room, not knowing what to expect. I touched his left arm that was on top of the blankets with an IV inserted, and he slowly opened his eyes. He opened his mouth to try and talk and it was obvious that just the act of him opening his mouth was causing him more pain.

“Don’t try to talk Derrick. Just rest.” I squeezed his cold hand and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and just stared at him. The cancer ate him up. He was so thin and fragile that I wondered if holding his hand caused him to be in more pain.

“I’m glad you came.” Derrick spoke barely above the whisper and I almost didn’t hear him over the constant beeps of the machines.

“Of course I came. I was surprised when I got the call that you were asking for me.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this. It’s embarrassing.”

“You look fine” I lied.

“Liar!” He gave a slight smile, but his eyes were still closed.

“When are you getting out of here?” I asked after a few minutes of silence. It took Derrick so long to answer that I thought he had fallen asleep. When I saw the tear roll down his face I knew that he just didn’t want to answer. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired Cheryl. I am so tired and I don’t want do this anymore. I don’t want to leave you and I don’t want to leave my family, but I’m tired of being in pain. I just want to rest.”

“Please don’t talk like that Derrick. You have to keep fighting and praying for a miracle. Just promise that you will keep fighting.”

“I tried. I’ve been trying so hard for so long. I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired. I’m sorry Cheryl. I have to let go.”

I sat there with Derrick until the nurse told me I had to leave. It was almost 4am and they had been courteous to let me stay outside of visiting hours. Derrick was asleep, but I hoped that he felt me kiss him on the forehead and whisper in his ear to “rest well.”

The whole ride home I hoped and prayed that Derrick would leave the hospital. I wanted more time with him. I knew it was selfish since he was in so much pain, but I just wasn’t ready to let go. Deep down I knew that we had had our last conversation and that more than likely, he would not be leaving the hospital. When we got back home I laid in bed with the phone beside me and waited for the call. My body wanted me to sleep, but my heart felt guilty about even trying to. The phone call came at 10:04pm. I hadn’t left my room at all that day, let alone gotten out of bed. At some point I had fallen asleep and the ringing phone woke me up. When I saw Derrick’s mom’s cell phone number on the caller ID I froze and was too nervous to answer. Maybe I wasn’t nervous, but more trying to avoid hearing what she was going to tell me. When I didn’t answer on my phone line, I heard my parents’ line ring. I ignored the knock on my room door and wanted to kick myself when I realized that I had forgotten to lock it. My first thought was to pretend to be asleep, but I didn’t react quickly enough and when I saw the grim look on Daddy’s face I lost it. He tried to console me, telling me over and over how sorry he was, but it was no use. Every feeling of anger, sadness, confusion and frustration came out in that very moment and as much as he tried and wanted to, Daddy couldn’t help.

Derrick’s wake was scheduled for the following Thursday followed by the funeral on Friday. During the days leading up to it, my phone rang non-stop from people checking on me, but I didn’t answer a single call. Every time the phone rang, I got upset. Most of the people I would listen to their voice messages and couldn’t place their face. I didn’t even know how they had my phone number. They didn’t know me and certainly didn’t know Derrick so what made them think it was OK to call? I figured they were calling to be nosey. I had missed the whole week of school and truly wished that I never had to go back. It was bad enough when I had to deal with the stares and whispers after Jackie’s death, but at least I had Derrick and didn’t have to deal with it alone. As much as my family and others tried, no one could possibly understand how I felt or what I was going through. I had never felt so alone, yet I didn’t want to talk or be around anyone.

My parents once again found themselves in a position where they had to balance offering their support and allowing me space. I hated that I was putting them in the same situation again. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have gotten out bed the first few days, let alone bathed or ate. By mid-week I felt I had to stay out of my room to keep from going crazy. People were still calling and I found myself wishing that I would look at the caller ID and see that it was Derrick calling. My heart broke a little more each time it was some random number. I had to get away from the phone. I planted myself on the living room couch to watch “The Goonies” when Mommy came to join me. She took a break from her usual cooking and cleaning to watch the movie with me. It wasn’t in her nature to automatically know what to say during difficult times, but she did have a way of being comforting by just being there.

“How about we go find you a new dress for the wake and funeral?” I ignored her and continued to flip through the channels after the movie ended. “Cheryl honey, what do you think about getting out for a little while?”

“I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t want to run into anyone that I know and have to answer their questions” I finally responded. That was only half the truth though. I wasn’t ready to find a dress for Derrick’s funeral. For me that meant I really had to say goodbye and I wasn’t ready. I needed more time.

“I know what you are going through Cheryl. When your grandfather died, I thought it was the worst thing that I would ever have to deal with. That was of course until grandma died. If it weren’t for family supporting me, I don’t know how I could have made it through. I know it’s hard to believe that it gets better, but it does. It may take a while, but it will get better. Don’t push people away, let us help you.”

“I’m not ready,” I said in between sobs. “I’m not ready to say good-bye. This is so unfair.”

“You’re right. It is unfair and it’s so unfortunate that you have to deal with something like this, but it is your decision how you choose to handle it. You can be angry and push everyone away or you can let us support you.”

She was right. A part of me still wanted to be stubborn and keep my feelings to myself, but I knew that it would do me no good. That conversation with Mommy was the reality check I needed. I had to choose between continuing to wallow in my misery or do my best to move on with the support of my family. That afternoon we went to the mall, even though I was sure that I would run into someone from school. Mommy was in rare form just chatting away. I was so thrown off by having to carry a conversation with her that eventually I forgot that I was supposed to be worried about seeing classmates. I was able to find something to wear for both the wake and funeral and after shopping we enjoyed a late lunch outside. The fresh air made a world of difference. For the first time in days I felt alive and refreshed. I knew it would be short lived, but for that moment it was nice.

Close to two hundred people showed up to Derrick’s wake. Hundreds more showed up for the funeral. Those who couldn’t find a seat lined up against the walls of the church or stood outside to listen to the service. I was so amazed at the number of people that came out to pay their respect that I had to let go of my feelings of annoyance that they didn’t know him personally. Derrick had to feel the love in that church. I don’t know how long I stood and stared at Derrick’s body during the wake. He looked so peaceful. It was really hard to be sad when I saw him. He was finally free of all the pain and that was a thought that made me smile. The funeral went on for some time due to the amount of people wanting to say something about Derrick. There was so much I wanted to say about Derrick too, but something kept me glued to my seat. I felt the same anxieties as I did at Grandma’s funeral when we arrived at the burial plot, but I made myself get out of the car. It was decision that I regretted. People were crying out all around as they lowered his body. I wanted to run far away from what was happening. Once his casket was lowered it seemed so final. He was gone.