––––––––
Riley placed The Cure album in the bag on top of the boo-boo blanket. Glancing around the loft, he wondered if there was anything else he was forgetting. The front door quietly opened and Rarity walked in with Marla. He gave the dog a bone so she would settle quickly.
“Do you want some coffee?” he whispered to his sister as he poured a second cup.
“Yeah. She up yet?” She washed her hands, something they were getting in the habit of doing routinely since Emma’s immune system was now at risk and a common cold suddenly ranked as life threatening.
He slid Rarity the Rosie the Riveter mug. “No. I figured I’d let her sleep until the last minute. She was up late.”
His sister nodded. “Will they let you in with her?”
“No. The nurses are all suited up with gloves and goggles. It’s not safe.”
“It’s amazing that stuff’s meant to heal.”
He glanced at the supply of disinfectant products stashed on the counter next to the trashcan liners. How had this become his life? He resented having to take such precautions with her, but her medications could not only be harmful to others, it was imperative they all stay healthy. If they got sick, who would take care of her? They had to be vigilant about containing anything that came in contact with the chemo while avoiding anything contaminated with outside germs.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Rarity said, a dazed look in her eyes as she held her untouched coffee.
It was something he’d try to comprehend for the rest of his life. With a flurry of appointments and staggering results, it had been an ongoing process of elimination, jumping from A to B back to A until they finally landed at C. Cancer.
That word, that horrible fucking word. It was a life sentence people could barely whisper and he heard it every hour of every day. He had no choice but to go against everything he knew and declare, no, it was not a death sentence.
His heart demanded he reorder his thinking and now every thought was geared toward what mattered most. Survival. She would survive. She would beat this. She had to, because he couldn’t imagine life without her.
The speed the doctors were moving was horrifying, her treatment had immediately consumed everyone in her immediate circle. What if this obsessive treatment was the last part of her life? She was missing her chance to live because it took so much damn effort to survive.
He shut his eyes. There was just so much resentment.
The prevalent ache in his chest tightened as he once again struggled to come to terms with his despair, hiding it away before Emma could see how badly this was crushing him. The chronic weight he bore was indescribable and beyond anything he anticipated carrying on his shoulders in this lifetime. But what choice did he have? All he wanted was her, safe and alive. It was an eye-opening crush that kept him awake at night, and a daunting responsibility during the day. But he desperately wanted to be her rock.
She wanted to do the chemotherapy to try to save her breast. He respected her choice, but worried it was because she feared losing her breast would steal her beauty. That was bullshit. Take both of them, but spare her life. That was all that mattered. She was all that mattered. Still, it was her choice and she’d chosen to shrink the tumors and proceed with a lumpectomy if possible.
And so, today it would begin. Poison poised against poison. He’d done everything he could think of to ensure the process went as comfortably as possible, but nothing removed his hope that this would all suddenly disappear. It was a fantasy, but it crossed his mind every day all the same.
At one point in his life he was foolish enough to believe he had control. There was no control, no guarantee. Now, he was handing over the little control he had and placing everything he loved in the care of strangers. It wasn’t easy and though he’d been gearing himself up for this very moment, he never felt more unprepared in his life.
It would start with an injection, killing tiny, little mutated cells and some innocent ones along the way. Then they’d remove the three pea-sized lumps that started everything. But would it stop there? What if the chemo didn’t move fast enough and the cancer spread? How much would she pay to have her life back? And what quality of life would there be when this was finally over? These were the resounding worries that filled every waking moment of his days.
Despite his outward calm, every smile, every encouraging word was carefully pulled from the chaos in his mind. Inside, he hid his fears in the blackest corners of his mind, crevices he was too ashamed to admit his worries dwelled, worries even his sister couldn’t know existed. It was imperative they only give voice to the positive, but the pessimism existed all the same. It was his, a burden he bore alone, speaking not even a whisper of doubt for the others to hear.
The toilet flushed and he turned. Emma shuffled from the hall, her hair standing on end, sheet prints pressed into her face. “Morning.”
His breath sucked in as he committed the image to memory, classifying it in his mind as before. God, she was magnificent.
Strolling to her, he didn’t stop until they were hugging, his face pressing into her neck as he breathed in her scent. “Morning, beautiful.”
She sighed. “You guys ready for today?”
Amused that she’d worry if they were ready, he brought her attention to everything he’d packed. “I packed you a bag.” Rarity dumped her coffee and his, sensitive to the fact that Emma was fasting.
Emma peeked in the bag. “My boo-boo blanket.” She smiled at him. “I love you for being so sweet and thoughtful.”
“I also packed you a Walkman with fresh batteries. The Cure’s all cued up. Side One.”
“When will you invest in an iPod?” His sister grumbled.
“Cassettes are where it’s at,” he argued.
“You’re an idiot. Vinyl, at least, has some lure. Cassettes are stupid. The sound quality’s shit, they break easily and you have to crank them with a pencil, and no one feels like waiting for rewind anymore.”
He frowned at his sister and mumbled, “Your sound quality’s shit.” So what if they took a little longer to fix than digital music? They were classic and he’d put time into his collection. He wasn’t going to throw them away just because there were more efficient ways to hear the music he liked.
“Don’t fight, guys,” Emma said. She pressed a hand to his chest. “You’re wearing your Save Ferris shirt. Is that for me?”
“Oh, well, you’re very popular,” he quoted. “Everyone adores you, geeks, sluts, dickheads, dweebies...” He loved that movie.
She laughed and glanced at his sister. “Rarity, I need you to help me with something before we go.”
“Whatever you need, toots.”
“I can help,” he offered, not wanting to be left out.
She smiled. “Okay. I’m going to take a shower first. We have time, right?”
He glanced at the clock. “We don’t have to leave for at least an hour.”
“Good.”
While Emma showered they grabbed something quick to eat. He made their bed and stashed unopened bottles of water in every room. When he finished, she was dressed in comfortable clothes and had her hair braided to the side.
“Here.” She handed Rarity a pair of scissors.
Riley stilled. He didn’t care about her hair, but this was a big deal. This was her way of taking a bit of control while the ball was still in her court and deciding—on her terms—it was time for kickoff.
Rarity carefully took the scissors. “Are you sure, toots?”
She took a steadying breath. “Yeah. My hairdresser’s connected with Locks of Love. I want to donate it while I can.” She glanced at him and laughed, but the hollow sound was far from happy. “It’s just gonna fall out anyway, right?”
As always, her fear fed his, but so did her courage. He moved into the kitchen. “I’ll do it.”
Emma’s eyes glazed, as her lips pursed in a tight smile. Before anyone could comment about what a monumental moment this was, she tipped her head back and broke eye contact, her braid falling down her back.
“Hand me the scissors, Rare.” He took the shears and stroked her damp braid, another moment committed to memory. “One,” he counted.
“Two,” Rarity whispered.
“Three.” Emma rasped and he carved the scissors through the thick braid as quickly as possible.
Once the ponytail was free, he handed it to Rarity who zipped it in a sandwich bag. Emma exhaled and tousled her hair; sending short curls spiraling around her face. She turned to them and drew in a deep breath.
Her cheeks glowed with a fearless smile, as if she’d somehow relieved a burden she didn’t have the strength to carry. “Let’s do this.”
****
The girl he kissed goodbye, outside of the chemotherapy room, was not the girl that came back to him. Emma walked sluggishly through the double doors, a nurse by her side and he immediately stood.
“Are you Riley?” The nurse asked handing him her bag. “Emma told me all about you.”
He caught Emma’s arm and helped her walk. “How was it?”
She groaned. “I did it.”
Leave it to her not to mention how awful he could only imagine it was. “This is normal?” He looked at the nurse.
“Oh, yeah. She’ll be weak for the next few days. Plenty of rest so her body can heal and the chemo can do its job.”
Jesus. Her eyes were so puffy and red. “Were you crying?”
“No. My head feels really weird right now though. I wanna go home.”
Grateful they took care of all the paperwork ahead of time, he walked her to the car. The most minor things seemed to be a struggle. He fastened her seatbelt, mindful of the small catheter port in her chest. He laid the boo-boo blanket over her lap and she slept the entire way home.
When they reached the loft he texted Rarity and gently woke Emma. “We’re here, cakes.”
Her mouth clicked as she dryly swallowed. “Thirsty.”
He uncapped a bottle of water and handed it to her. Rarity came down and, for the first time in a very long time, he saw fear in his sister’s eyes. Forcing back all the warnings he wanted to say, he simply nodded, and exited the car as she climbed behind the wheel.
She pressed a hand to Emma’s shoulder, their smiles reflecting the same tragic happiness that the hard part of the morning was over. “You made it, toots.”
“I made it,” Emma agreed, sluggishly.
“The couch is all set up and so is your bed. I’ll be back as soon as I park Riley’s car. Love Actually’s cued up and waiting.”
She chuckled, but he could tell it cost her. “You’re the best.”
“Let’s get you inside,” he said, taking her arm and guiding her to the door.
If she had a preference between her bed and the couch she didn’t voice it. The second she stepped through the door she went straight to the couch and curled into a ball.
Marla watched her, a curious look in her chocolate eyes as though she sensed something wasn’t right. Slowly, she padded over to the sofa, sniffed Emma, and curled on the floor beside her, which was where she stayed.
Emma was asleep before Rarity returned from parking the car. The waiting game had begun again as Emma slept and continued to sleep as they tried to prepare for whatever came next.
Hours passed in silence as they simply watched her, unspeakable things running through their terrified minds. It was the realest experience of his life. Nothing compared and he never wanted to experience anything this real again. But he would. This was only the beginning and there was a long road ahead. Knowing that, made living this all the more distressing.
****
Something was wrong. His eyes opened as a small moan echoed in the dark loft. Bolting upright he sprung into action as Emma hunched over the couch and groaned into the trash bin. Falling to his knees, he crawled to her and brushed the hair away from her face.
“Don’t,” she whined, but he ignored her.
She heaved, but very little came out. Her skin was soaked in sweat and her motor skills were noticeably off as she weakly trembled at the edge of the couch.
“What can I do?”
She retched again and groaned. “God, this sucks.”
He uncapped a bottle of water, waiting for her to finish. She eased back, fatigued and moaning. Handing her the water, he rushed to the kitchen, wet a cloth and returned to her side, pressing the cool compress to her head. He wanted to know what it felt like, what might make her more comfortable, but he already knew the answer. Awful and nothing.
The chemo was doing what it was designed to do—rip her apart. If she was experiencing the effects already that had to mean the tumors were being affected too. He told himself so, over and over again, because it was the only justification for anyone to volunteer for this sort of torture.
He pressed the cool cloth to the back of her neck. “It’ll pass, cakes. Just breathe.”
The following day they returned to the oncologist so Emma could get a shot that would stimulate cell growth in her bone marrow. The nurse, when Emma wasn’t present, described it as excruciating, but Emma never complained. Still, he saw the agony in her eyes.
The moment they returned home she had a small snack, curled up on the couch, and fell asleep. Marla climbed off of Rarity’s bed and lay beside Emma on the floor, her silent guardian.
As the days passed, hushed and curious, Emma was too exhausted to do more than sit quietly. Her breathing became the steady melody he built his world around. When they watched television, her head rested on his shoulder and their hands held each other, the soft in and out of her breath was the most reassuring sound to his ears. His heart seemed to adjust to the rhythm, as it became the sole focus of his existence.
It was all he needed in that moment, for her to breathe. Just breathe.
He wondered how parents dealt with the agony of love, assuming most parents held an unconditional affection for their children the way his did not. Scraped knees and bloody noses, so many boo-boos through the years. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be strong enough to love more than one person that deeply, because loving Emma unconditionally ripped his heart to shreds every time she suffered.
Perhaps he loved her too much, but there was never any middle with him. It was all or nothing. The only thing worse than the pain of loving her so hard was the absolute, insufferable agony of imagining a world without that love. There wasn’t a choice. He needed to love her and so he did. He loved her with every ounce of his being.
When the second round of chemo started, Emma lacked the verve she possessed in the beginning. Although she’d survived round one, the aftermath had devastated her sense of optimism, given them all a startling glimpse of the horrific side effects that came with modern treatments.
Perhaps, knowing what to expect and being weakened by the enemy she still had to face, made it all the more terrifying. He finally understood what people meant when they said the cure was worse than the disease.
Cancer, that tiny little cell that started all this, was silent and painless. Chemotherapy, on the other hand, the venom strong enough to kill said cancer, made so much noise it silenced life itself, the painful aftermath all that echoed in their home.
As Emma clung to the toilet, refusing to get off the bathroom floor, he waited for the sickness to pass. But there was never any warning when it would strike, and chances were as soon as he helped her back to bed she’d puke again. After twenty minutes of nothing but moans leaving her mouth, he lifted her off the floor and carried her to bed.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, but he ignored her apology like he did every time. This wasn’t her fault.
“Try drinking some water.” He uncapped the bottle and held it to her lips. Her eyes closed and she turned away after only a few sips. “Good?”
“Mmm.”
He covered her and returned to the bathroom. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he didn’t want to fall asleep again until he was certain she was in the clear. Pulling out the disinfectant, he wiped down the toilet and vanity, tossing away uncountable strands of Emma’s hair.
“That shit is killing her,” Rarity whispered, startling him.
His sister was steadily increasing the long list of strange foods in their diet. It was impossible to talk to her sometimes. Everything she read argued chemo came with more risks than guarantees.
“It’ll pass.” He sprayed the toilet and placed a clean stack of towels by the tub.
“They say the third round’s the worst.”
He ignored her, incapable of imagining anything worse than what they’d already witnessed.
“Doesn’t it bother you that she has to sign papers saying she understands this treatment might cause other cancers down the road?”
Having heard enough, he threw the toilet brush against the wall and snapped, “What do you want me to do, Rarity? This is the only option we have! People survive this way! They beat it! I can’t gamble her life on herbs and supplements!”
“She’s gotten sicker since it started!” she hissed. “How much worse can it get? When does it end?”
Gripping the vanity he looked away. He didn’t have the fucking answers. “It ends when it starts to make her better.”
“And then what? We wait some more. She has surgery? More waiting. And it either starts all over again or they burn the shit out of her with radiation. They’ll kill her before the cancer does!”
Breathing hard, he bit his lip. He was so damn tired. “This is her choice. It’s her life. What do you want from me?”
“What if it’s the wrong choice?”
“What if it’s not?”
“But what if it is?”
“Jesus, Rarity, I can’t do this right now! Do you see what I’m dealing with? She’s weak. She’s sick. And she’s suffering. Don’t you think if there was any fucking way I could take some of that pain from her I would? If you think it isn’t killing me watching her go through this, you’re a fucking idiot!” He shoved past her and went to clean up the living room.
The swish of her slippers followed him. “I’m sorry.”
He ignored her.
“Riley...please, don’t be mad at me. I’m just so afraid she isn’t going to make it through this.”
His jaw tightened. “Shut. Up.” The words barely fit through his clenched teeth.
She sniffled. “What’ll we do without her?”
“God damn it, Rarity, shut up!”
She grabbed his arms and he tried to shove her away, but she refused to let him go. Yanking him to her, she hugged him, and the tightness in his chest exploded. Fear burned his throat as he gripped her tight.
He choked as his eyes flooded with tears. “I can’t lose her.” He clung to her shoulders as his lips tightened and his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. “I can’t.”
“I know,” Rarity whispered. Her hand cupped the back of his head. “I know.”
It was the first time he cried since finding out it was cancer and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. They sat in the dark for several hours, hardly talking, yet having one of the most earthshattering conversations of his life.
He couldn’t be mad at Rarity for loving Emma. He understood. Loving someone with cancer meant carrying a love greater than any hate. Because he absolutely despised what this disease was doing to her, but he stuck around because he loved her a thousand times more.
****
It was time. Riley stuffed his lucky monkey hat on his head and nodded at his sister. “Let’s do this.”
Emma stood at the counter eating a bowl of granola cereal as he and Rarity tiptoed into the kitchen. She grinned nervously and wiped a dribble of almond milk off her chin. “Whhhhat are you guys doing?”
“Nothin’,” Rarity sung, folding her hands innocently behind her back and rocking on her heels. She wore overalls and a blue knit hat with mustache trim.
Emma put down her spoon and arched a brow in his direction. “And you? You’re definitely up to something. I can always tell.”
Still in his pajamas, he beamed. It wasn’t unusual for him to wander around in his monkey hat. “How do you feel today?”
“Better.”
“Good. We have a surprise for you.”
She smiled. “I like surprises—the good kind at least.”
He looked at Rarity. “Ready?” She nodded and he counted off. “One.”
“Two,” Rarity chanted.
They turned to Emma and smiled expectantly. Her eyes moved from side to side. “Three?”
Together, they pulled off their hats and she gasped. “You’re bald!”
He gave her his most cheeky grin and winked. “Pound sign no hair don’t care.”
“Hair is so passé,” Rarity said. “Bald’s the new beard.”
Emma’s expression was priceless. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in weeks. Reaching behind her ear, she touched a thinning patch of her hair. “Will you do mine?”
Rarity hugged her and placed a smacking kiss on her cheek. “Come on. I left the clippers out.”
In the end, she looked totally different, but her beauty somehow became even more pronounced. Those fascinating eyes shined, because she was—for that moment—happy, and that was all he could ask for.
For now, that was enough.