Rhys
Secondary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis (SPMS) [sek-uh-n-der-ee /
pruh-gres-iv / muhl-tuh-puhl / skli-roh-sis] n—One jerk of a disease
that progresses without any certainty and at any rate it wants
Supe and I have been sitting at a table in the library all morning searching website after website, trying to make sense of all the information the doctor gave me last week.
“Okay . . .” Supe puts on his business face, brow slightly furrowed, head held high. It’s the same look he gets when he studies. “So she has a new diagnosis; what now?”
Before coming to the library today, I read all the pamphlets on secondary progressive I was given at the hospital. The whole point of digging through online research was to prove Dr. Williams wrong about there being nothing we could do to alleviate Mom’s symptoms. Unfortunately, there is nothing to find. There isn’t a thing he or anyone else can do. “Secondary progressive MS isn’t treatable. No matter what we do, her symptoms will gradually get worse over time.”
“How worse, and how long?”
“No one knows.”
“There’s no time line?”
“Nope.”
Supe blows out a breath. “That is . . .”
“Yeah.” I log off of the computer and then tuck the pamphlets Dr. Williams gave me back into the manila envelope. The file the financial counselor gave me sits untouched. The stack of bills inside it is also too much to deal with right now. I know there are pamphlets in there about care facilities, but I’m not ready to admit defeat yet. This is my last semester. If we can hold on a little longer, I’ll get a real job and be able to pay for decent in-home health care for Mom like a man instead of relying on the help of others.
“Thanks for going over all this with me,” I say to Supe as we walk into the library lobby.
“Happy to help.”
We stop to zip our coats before going outside.
“How’s your mom doing with all this?”
“I think she’s either in the anger or denial stage of grief. She’s . . .” I sigh. “Depressed. Confused. Frustrated.”
“And you?”
“Depressed. Confused. Frustrated.” I snort. “Ready to get out of Provo.”
“It hasn’t been all bad, has it? Being here at BYU?” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice I wish I didn’t notice.
“Not all bad.” I nudge him with my elbow.
“Right.” He laughs. “You did luck out in the roommate department.”
“That I did.”
“I’ve got to get to class, but I’m around if you need anything,” he says, and I know he means it.
“Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.” Supe takes off for class, and I walk toward the steps that lead down to the RB. Parking near the RB, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, is probably one of the stupider things I’ve done since the breakup. Seeing as how Emmy won’t change her mind about us. About me.
I start down the stairs like always. And there she is. Walking up the stairs. Her cheeks are flushed like she’s just come from ballet. I can tell by the way she bites her bottom lip when she checks her phone that she’s in a rush. Probably late for her next class. She was late to class the day we met.
She continues up the stairs, and when she gets to the top of the third flight, she finally looks up, and our eyes meet. “Rhys.”
I continue down the steps until I’m standing next to her. “Hey, Emmy.”
“H-how are you?”
“Fine.” One word answers seem the safest.
“Good. That’s good.” She pulls at her sweater and looks up at the sky. “This weather is crazy, right? Last week it was sunny, and now it’s practically snowing . . .”
I didn’t realize how much this moment would hurt. But of course it does. How could it not? The last time we saw each other, I poured my heart out to her, literally begged her not to give up on us. And now she wants to talk about the weather? I can’t do it.
“I love the snow. It’s a nice break from the rain and the sun, but I hate having to get all bundled up to go out. Everything ends up soaked and . . .”
I’ve missed the sound of her voice. Her sweet scent. My arms ache to hold her.
“Hopefully it will be a short winter though. There’s nothing worse than when it’s still snowing in May . . .” She continues to ramble.
It’s too much and, at the same time, not enough. Being her friend, talking to her like a casual acquaintance isn’t something I want to do. Not with her. “Emmy.” I cut her off.
“Yeah?”
Her big blue eyes nearly bring me to my knees. “It was nice to see you again.”
“You too.”
It takes everything in me, but this time, I walk away from her.