CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Mid-September arrived, and with it, cooler temperatures. At night, I needed a sweater or light jacket when leaving the house, and I wore a sweatshirt for my runs at the river. Leaves on certain trees turned from green to gold, and when I drove Jeff to Indianapolis, farmers harvested their crops using massive equipment to collect the corn and soybeans.

Jeff had completed five weeks of radiation therapy and suffered no side effects other than slight fatigue. Most days, he took a nap after lunch, but he always woke refreshed. I finally coaxed him into taking a daily bicycle ride to the river when I went there for a run. The round trip was a distance of seven miles, and he tolerated the effort without difficulty.

Jeff had gained twelve pounds since his release from Dukes Memorial, all of it muscle tissue in his arms, legs, and buttocks, and now he was eating as much as I. His body hair was returning and so was the hair on his scalp, but the latter didn’t look or feel like Jeff’s had in the past. Instead of soft and wavy, it felt coarse and grew in tight curls, but at least he had hair.

Since I had so much time on my hands, I volunteered to cook dinner for our household on weekdays.

“You guys are busy with teaching,” I told Mario and Catherine at the table one night. “Just buy the food and give me the recipes; I’ll take care of everything else.”

Truthfully, I enjoyed the cooking and learned a lot about the use of herbs and spices to flavor dishes I cooked. I found garlic, especially, improved the taste of most any main course I prepared. I made veal scaloppini and mussels in clam sauce. One night I served calamari marinara, another night shrimp over vermicelli. I prepared fresh spinach salads jazzed up with parmesan cheese and extra-virgin olive oil. And we always shared a bottle of red or white wine with our meals.

One night, over a plate of ravioli, Mario looked at me and shook his head. “This is delicious. You’d better be careful or we won’t let you go back to Florida.”

Jeff’s gaze flitted between his parents. “Speaking of Florida, my application for transfer to FSU’s been granted. Assuming Mashburn says I’m healthy, I plan to start school down there in January.”

After Jeff’s parents exchanged glances, Catherine put her fork on her plate.

“I’m not sure you’ll be ready for a move like that so soon.”

“So soon? That’s ten weeks from now. I’m done with radiation therapy at the end of this month, and then what’ll I do with my time in Peru, play tiddlywinks?”

Catherine shifted her weight in her chair. “I’m only saying you should focus on your recovery. Stress won’t be good for you, and—”

“Mom, if my cancer’s gone—and we should know real soon—Jakub and I will leave for Florida after Christmas. You and Dad need to accept that.”

Mario cleared his throat. “We know you’re eager to get on with your life, and we understand you and Jakub want to be together. But let’s discuss the whole thing with the medical folks. Your health comes first, that’s all we’re saying.”

I patted Jeff’s forearm. “Let’s see what Dr. Mashburn says.”

Jeff shook off my hand. He tossed his napkin on the table and rose. “I’m not staying in Peru; I’ll go crazy if I do. No matter what anyone says, I’m out of here in December.”

Jeff strode from the room while his parents and I remained at the table, gazing at each other and not saying anything for several seconds, until Catherine spoke to me.

“We’re not trying to keep Jeff from going with you. We only want to be sure he’s healthy before he leaves; I hope you understand that.”

Mario chimed in, “We know you want what’s best for Jeff, and that might mean delaying his move to Florida.”

I lowered my chin and nodded. “I’ll talk with him about it.”

Minutes later, I went to Jeff’s room. He lay on his bed with one arm crooked behind his head. His cheeks were flushed, and his chest rose and fell with his breathing. He gazed at the ceiling when he spoke.

“I know what my parents are up to; it’s so transparent. They’re looking for excuses to keep me here, and it won’t surprise me if they lobby Mashburn behind my back, so he’ll tell us I should stay in Indiana.”

I sat on the mattress next to Jeff.

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. First, let’s finish the radiation treatments. After that, according to the patient brochure, Mashburn will take biopsies to see if your cancer’s gone. If it is, fine, but if not…”

“Then what? I can’t ask you to skip another semester at school; it wouldn’t be fair. And I meant what I said in the dining room: I’ll go nuts if I have to stay here past December, especially without you around.”

“And I was serious about what I told you up at Notre Dame—I’m not leaving Peru without you. One way or another, we’re living together from now on. And I don’t care if I miss another semester, I’ll do it if I have to.”

“But—”

I placed my hand over Jeff’s mouth to silence him.

“I won’t go through one more day without you; it’s more important to me than anything, even school. So, forget about sending me back to Tallahassee alone.”

*

Jeff’s final radiation treatment took place on the last Friday in September, and after he dressed, we thanked Melanie for all she’d done. Then we met with Mashburn in his office. Sunlight poured through the plate glass windows while the doctor sat in a swivel chair behind his desk, leafing through Jeff’s chart and fingering his lips.

“You’ve been a brave patient,” he told Jeff. “I know the chemotherapy was rough, and your hospital admission was especially scary.”

“Doc, there ought to be a gentler method of treating cancer.”

“I wish there were,” Mashburn said, “but…”

“Where do we go from here? I need to get on with my life.”

The doctor closed Jeff’s chart and rested his hands on it. “We’ll schedule you for biopsies next week. I’ll take several from your armpits and neck, in the areas we radiated. If no cancer cells are found in those, you’re good to go.”

“What if you do find cancer cells?”

Mashburn rubbed his chin with a knuckle.

“Let’s just hope we don’t.”