Wish Upon a Star (11 page)

"The part the doctor mentioned about how you might have
to have radiation has me a little worried, though."

"I might have to have it, or I might not." She patted me on
the thigh. "And it won't matter when the lymph node tests come back
negative." She put the car in gear and drove us out of the parking lot.
On the drive home, we rehashed the notes I took and I jotted down a
few more items Annie wanted to discuss with Miranda. By the time
we got home, I was pretty sure Annie had made her decision.

I was certain she wouldn't tell me until she slept on it,
though.

While I grilled some fish for dinner, Annie worked on a chart
of the pros and cons of her reconstruction options. At the dinner
table I mentioned I'd never seen her work on one before.

"I don't do it often. It's reserved for extremely important
decisions. And since feel like I've mostly been agreeing to whatever's
been suggested recently, I want to be thorough with this one."

I glanced at her notepad. She'd written a handful of pros and
cons for each procedure. She'd circled a few items and used arrows
with some others. "Wow. When's the last time you did one."

Her smile grew wide and her cheeks bloomed light pink. It
warmed my heart to see color in her skin. "Almost two years ago. It
was when I was debating whether it was a good idea or not to drive
from Malibu to Vegas to find you."

The hair on the back of my neck rose to attention. "Really?
Man, wish I could've gotten a look at that list."

"Oh, I remember it quite well. It was a rather lopsided list
actually. As I recall, I stopped adding to the list of cons when I
reached twenty-seven."

"Yet you still made that drive. Must have been a pretty
impressive list of pros."

"No, only one."

Only one?
Whatever that one pro was, it must have
been a whopper. I leaned toward her. "So what was it? The
realization you couldn't live without me?"

"That's close." She gave me her heart-melting smile and
leaned in. We were almost nose to nose. "More like I couldn't live
without my glorious purple and gold shoelaces you had in your
backpack." She gave me a peck on the nose and took a drink of her
ice water.

I let out a laugh. When Annie and I had parted ways in
Arizona almost two years before, I'd forgotten about a pair of
shoelaces she'd left in my backpack. "Your Lakers shoelaces. You're
never going to let me live those things down, are you?"

"Nope. Besides, if it weren't for them, you wouldn't be
engaged to a rock star today."

"So that's your story?"

"Yep. And I'm sticking to it." She put her feet in my lap. I
looked down. She was wearing running shoes. With purple and gold
shoelaces. When I looked back up, she winked at me.

* * * *

The following evening, I'd just finished cleaning up from an
afternoon working at the Co-op, when Annie came through the door.
She handed me a grocery bag full of natural foods from Good Earth.
Among her treasures was a box of quinoa—whatever that was—a
couple of bags of granola, and some bottles of supplements.

"Randi and I discussed my options while we shopped for
healthy food for me."

"And?"

She eased herself onto one of the barstools and steepled her
fingers in front of her. "Randi agrees with you, so I'm going to have
the expanders put in at the time of mastectomy. Tomorrow, I'll let
Julia and Doctor Henderson know. I have an appointment with
Doctor Furman next week, so I'll talk to her about it then. What do
you think?"

I went to her and wrapped my arms around her. "That
you're one step closer to beating this thing."

Ever since that mind-blowing moment back in California
when Annie had dropped the bomb that she had cancer, I'd felt like
my life had been one constant bike race. I'd been clinging to the back
of the peloton, fighting with every fiber inside me just to hold
on.

After a good couple of days, I'd go to bed thinking that I'd
settled comfortably back in the pack. Then Annie would spend half
the day retching in the bathroom, or a minor Cassandra-related
emergency would come up, and it was as if the group had hit a climb
and spit me out again. I'd be left gasping for breath, dripping with
sweat, cranking the pedals as hard as I could, just to keep within eye
contact.

That's how I felt at the moment. Two days ago, treatment
number five had gone off without a hitch. Now its effects had
surfaced. This treatment had been Annie's first with the drug Taxol.
We'd been warned that one of the side effects, major body pain,
would kick in a day or two after treatment. For Annie, the pain
hadn't kicked in. It had karate chopped and mortar blasted its way in
and landed right on top of her with guns blazing.

I pushed the bedroom open a crack and peered in. Some
mid-day light filtered in through the sheers to reveal her curled up in
a fetal position in the middle of the bed. She'd been in this condition
for the past twenty-four hours, more or less.

I placed a cup of hot chamomile tea on the night stand and
sat on the edge of the bed. "Any better?"

She took a deep breath. Though she kept her eyes closed,
she nodded. "A little. Now it only hurts when I breathe."

"Melissa Etheridge wouldn't be happy with you stealing her
lyrics."

Annie's lips curved up slightly. The first hint of a smile I'd
seen in almost two days. "It's all right. We've exchanged text
messages. Given the circumstances, she's given me permission."

I slipped an extra pillow behind her as she struggled to sit
upright. Once settled, she took the cup and breathed in the calming
aroma. "This is nice, thanks." She sipped the tea. When her stomach
growled, we both laughed. "How about a whole wheat English
muffin, plain?"

I returned a few minutes later with her order. She wolfed
down the first half in four big bites. When she swallowed the last bit,
her cheeks bloomed pink. "Guess I was a little hungry, huh?"

"Since it's the first thing you've eaten in a couple of days, it's
understandable."

While Annie worked her way a little more slowly through
the other half of the muffin, I brought her a bowl of mixed fruit. She'd
been battling mouth sores on the insides of her cheeks for about a
week, so I'd kept the choices bland—banana, blueberry and white
grape.

"You know what'd be cool? If after all this is over, you were
able to get together with Melissa Etheridge, Sheryl Crow and Jenny
Conlee, and record something. Kind of a Sisters Who Have Beaten
Cancer thing."

She finished her breakfast and handed the cup and bowl to
me. "Maybe. You never know. I think it's time for a shower."

I'd never been so pleased to hear someone announce they
were going to take a shower. Then again, I'd never dealt with having
the woman I loved more than anything in so much pain she couldn't
get out of bed for the better part of two days. The meal and shower
must have done her wonders, because when she came out of the
bedroom, she looked like herself. A pink sweatshirt and blue jeans
complemented the grin she was wearing.

"I'm feeling much better. How's a late lunch sound?"

"You know me, I can always eat. Are you up to walking to
the village?"

Annie's eyes lit up. "Yes, if we take it slow. The muscle pain's
almost gone, but the joints still hate me."

She grabbed her favorite head covering—an orange and
purple scarf with a paisley design—wrapped it into a classy looking
do-rag, and slipped into the jacket I held out for her. It was a sunny
mid-April day with the spring flowers in full bloom. The familiar
low-pitched buzz of lawn mowers filled the air. I was in short sleeves and
a t-shirt, but Annie had been struggling to stay warm recently and
didn't seem to mind the jacket.

After stopping to rest two times, we made it to a Mexican
place adjacent to the trail. It had outdoor seating, which was perfect
for a pleasant spring day. It also had an endless supply of tortilla
chips, which was perfect for Annie's empty stomach. In addition to
her taco plate, I think she ate three bowls of chips all by herself.
Either the mouth sores weren't bothering her or she'd chosen to
ignore them.

"So much for trying to eat healthy, huh?"

Annie ignored my teasing and munched on another chip.
"I'm getting in some calories. Randi and Julia have both told me an
indulgence like today's good for the soul every now and then."

I clinked my iced tea to her water. "Then here's to feeling
good enough to indulge."

On the way home, we took a detour through the grounds of
the Art Center. We were enjoying a quiet moment on the deck
overlooking the river when Annie pulled her phone out of a pocket of
her jacket.

"I got a text from Staci this morning and didn't have the guts
to read it. Now seems like a good time." Annie said before I could
ask.

"How is she?"

After taking a moment to read the text, she broke into a grin.
"She's pissed at me for arranging the tutor. She says she was ready to
enjoy the next two months homework-free until I ruined it for her.
And to expect retribution on my birthday." Annie's voice caught in
her throat. She slipped her phone back in her pocket. "I love that
kid."

By the tone of her voice, I could tell Annie wasn't just using a
cliché. She'd truly come to care deeply for the young lady with whom
she'd been sharing chemo treatments.

"You know, I think that's the first time I've heard you talk
about someone other than your dad that way."

Annie turned away and leaned on the railing. "Yes, well
cancer changes you. In more ways than one."

"Staci's thinking ahead, looking forward to something.
That's good, even if it's just to get you back. You did good, Annie.
She's going to be okay."

"I hope so, E.J. I really hope so."

Annie held her hand out to me. Instead of taking it, I
wrapped my arms around her. Minutes passed as I held her. We
gazed at the river in silence. I wondered how far the water passing
before my eyes would travel. Would it make it all the way to the
Mississippi River and then down to the Gulf of Mexico? Or would its
journey be cut short for some reason? As we turned away from the
river to head for home, I hoped the water had a long adventure
ahead of it.

Just like I hoped Annie and Staci had long, adventure-filled
lives ahead of them.

As the Taxol-induced pain subsided, Annie's energy level
returned. She'd made a promise to exercise at least an hour a day
during her treatment, and while she hadn't been able to keep that
promise to the letter, she'd done pretty well. Now that the April
temperatures were inching up, Miranda had started coming by two
or three times a week and they'd ride the Monon together. Other
days, I'd walk with her or she'd go out on her own.

My days fell into a regular routine. Every morning, I'd spend
a few hours in Cassandra-assistant mode. While most of those duties
were limited to handling contact with fans, I would check in with
Samantha as needed and even with Ira from time to time. While the
press had given Annie her space, requests for interviews and public
appearances had continued to trickle in.

"What about something in conjunction with your birthday?
It's only a few weeks away, so that way you could keep it kind of
small, but still tie a cancer benefit kind of thing to it." Samantha had
been nagging me to get Annie to commit to some sort of public
appearance. This was my latest attempt.

Annie chuckled and shook her head. "Samantha, God love
her. She's not going to give up, is she?"

"She thinks it'd be good for people to see you out. Assure the
public you're getting better."

"Maybe she's right. And it would get her off my back about
it." She snapped her fingers. "I could do something with Staci.
Yes."

Like an arrow from a bow, Annie shot from the chair and
went straight to the spare bedroom. I didn't see her for the rest of
the afternoon. When she finally emerged, she plopped down on the
couch and put her feet on the coffee table.

"All set." She picked up the copy of Jane Austen's
Emma
she'd been reading.

"Is that it? Come on, don't leave me hanging."

"You are such a big baby. Fine. We're going to do something
intimate here in Indy. Samantha will handle the heavy lifting, but
she'll email you tomorrow with a few assignments. Since my
birthday's the day before round seven, hopefully I'll be feeling pretty
good. And Staci's available to celebrate with me. It'll be fun."

Samantha's email taught me a new meaning for the term
few. I'd always thought few meant three or four. Annie's manager
thought differently. To her, few evidently meant forty-one.

With the exception of devoting two days exclusively to
Annie's care after chemo round number six, I spent nearly all of my
time preparing for her party. The guest list itself took the better part
of three days to compile, revise and get approved by Annie,
Samantha and Ira.

Once again, I learned a new definition for "intimate", a word
I'd always thought I knew the meaning of. When Annie said she
wanted something intimate, I thought she meant a couple dozen
people or so. In reality, it meant closer to five hundred. Even at that
number, I had to fight to get Gloria, Paul and Dave and the guys'
wives on the final list.

I was on the porch, where our phone conversation wouldn't
disturb Annie when I finally put my foot down. The final straw had
been when Samantha laughed at one of my suggestions for party
favors.

"Look Samantha, if I'm not doing a good enough job for you,
feel free to get someone else. Annie's been in bed for the last two
days and taking care of her is my top priority."

"E.J., don't be that way. I thought we were friends. What's
wrong?"

"What's wrong? I don't know what the hell I'm doing. That's
what's wrong. I'm not a party planner, especially when a celebrity's
involved. I can handle being Annie's assistant when I'm relaying
messages to you and handling fan mail. With this kind of stuff, I'm
racing above my category."