Being There (19 page)

The mere suggestion that I call him has me conjuring up a list of reasons to contact him, but I can’t come up with anything good. The last few days of having my friend back has been wonderful, maybe a little weird at times while we figure out this newfound relationship, but I love having him back. The one thing that I hate is how forced it feels. I tried to get him to back out and hoped that maybe he’d take back his offer to stick around. Had we not seen each other this weekend, he wouldn’t even know anything was wrong with me, and needless to say, he wouldn’t be around. In a sane state of mind, I wouldn’t read into anything he’s said or done up to this point, but it’s as though I’m looking for anything and everything he says to mean something more. But there’s nothing in his delivery that says it’s anything other than platonic, and that’s enough, I need to remind myself of that.

I pull myself off the floor and move to clean up the condo before my parents show up. I know the hat I’ll have to wear while they’re around is one of
everything is okay
, because if I’m a mess, they will fall apart too. It sucks a little because, this is happening to me, but I have to be strong for them, and while I know I could call Nev and lean on her, the ones I really need are my parents. They said they would take a taxi from the airport, so I have about two hours before they show up, and that’s enough time to clean the place up and shower.

My normally clean and organized space has been in disarray since we got back from the lake, so I open the blinds and roll up my sleeves to start working. Music always makes the process move quicker, so I plug my iPod into the speaker, randomizing the songs in the living room to keep me company. Gavin DeGraw’s
Not Over You
plays, and it’s just too fitting. My brown leather couch is draped in blankets from the last two nights of movies, and ice cream containers are still out on the coffee table as evidence that I overindulged at my pity party.

Once I pick everything up in the living room, I clear off my small dining table. The top hasn’t seen the light of day in a
while; I guess it’s become my catch all for mail, bad takeout and whatever else I dump on top. It’s a shame too, because the table is one that I found while I was antiquing with Nev and I got it for a steal. I think it’s my favorite piece in my house. None of my furniture or decorations matches, mostly because my style is eclectic, but I do love it. I do my best to get everything off the table that isn’t essential, and at the bottom of the pile of crap, I find the pamphlets and papers the doctor sent me home with. It doesn’t look I’m escaping my life, no matter how hard I might try.

My kitchen is the last place I clean, because my parents won’t think anything of it if that room is a little cluttered. They know how busy I am, but they also know what a freak I am about the rest of my home is. I’m a little shocked with myself that I let it get so out of control, but at least it looks better now. Looking at the clock in the kitchen, I should have enough time to jump in the shower before they get here. I don’t want to do anything since I have a less than spectacular day planned tomorrow, but I want to wash everything away. Just as I head back to my bedroom, there is a knock at my door, and I know that my plans have been derailed as I open the door to see my parents on the other side.

“Hi baby!” my mom says with tears in her eyes as she grabs me for a hug. “We’re early.”

“I can see that,” I try to smile as I hug her back, but I doubt it comes through.

My dad looks uncomfortable so I lighten the mood and give him a hug and open the door further to allow them entrance. They stand in the entry like they’ve never been to my place before when in reality, they helped me move in. I wish that this didn’t feel so strange, but they’re trying so hard to hold it together. See, there’s a reason why I have to man-up for them, they can’t take it.
Here we go
.

“Are y’all hungry? I can call something in?” I ask in a hurry, trying to give them something else to consider.

“I could eat,” my dad says, looking around the condo. Finding out what to order is like pulling teeth since neither of them wants to make a choice, so I make it for them. Forty-five minutes later, pizza is delivered and I leave them to eat while I take their bags to my spare room. I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket and see that Drew is texting me.

Drew: Parents make it in okay?

Me: Yeah. They’re being weird.

Drew: U ok?

Me: I left them down stairs. Been up here five mins. I need a break.

Drew: If u need to talk, u can call me

Me: Thx. But I’m ok.

Drew: They’re scared for u

Me: I know that. But I’m going through it. Not them.

Drew: I know. But I’m sure it’s hard on them 2

Me: It’s hard on me

Drew: R u scared?

Me: Of course I am. But u remember how they are, I can’t tell them that.

Drew: I’ll be there in the morning to pick u up.

Me: I’m sorry in advance for what you might see

Drew
: You always look good to me

I tuck my phone back into my pocket before heading back downstairs to face the concerned faces of my parents. Sometimes I wish they were just a little more stable and there for me, but then again, I’m not sure I could handle them if they were any different. Drew’s right, I know they are worried about me, and as much as I’d love to curl up between them and let them console me, chances are, I’d end up consoling them. Then again, maybe that’s what I need, to take care of them so the focus is off of me.

“Mom, dad?” I hesitate before continuing, “are you guys okay? You’re being really quiet.”

My mom’s head sinks to her chest and her shoulders start to shake. My mom has never looked her age, and at this moment, I see that she’s gained years since she last saw me, I’m certain it’s due to her concern for me. My dad instinctively scoots to her side and places his arm behind her back and rubs in a soothing motion. He leans in and whispers something to her, but I can’t make out what it is, so I walk to the coffee table in front of them and sit to wait for an explanation.

“Guys,” I placate them, “everything is going to be fine. I know it.” I try desperately to sell it.

“We know,” dad says in almost a whisper, “But…”

“You’re all we have,” mom interjects with tears in her eyes. “We can’t lose you.”

“You have to stop, okay. I need you to both be strong for me. I’m the one going through this. I know you’re scared, but this is happening to me. I can’t be worried about you both falling apart and get chemo at the same time. So if I’m having to pick you both up and make sure you’re okay, why don’t you just stay here and let Drew take me alone.” I don’t mean to sound so harsh, but I don’t know what else to say. I think Nev would be proud if she were here with me right now, seeing my parents with their jaws dropped open is a little enjoyable for me. When neither of them can come up with a response, I lean forward and kiss them each on the cheek before standing up.

“I love you both, but I need to get to bed. Drew will be here in the morning and I need sleep, so if you’re up, I’ll see you tomorrow; if not, I’ll see you when I get home.” And with that, I walk to my bedroom with my head held high and close the door behind me. I can feel my legs shaking because I have never asserted myself in that way before, so I hurry to my bed before I fall to the floor. I sit in the silence my room provides and calm my nerves by taking a few deep breaths, knowing that in a few short hours, I will know if my parents were able to pull their heads out of their asses long enough to support me for a change.

I send a quick text to Drew.

Me: I might have made my parents cry

Drew: What did u say?

Me: Basically? Grow up

Drew: Good for u. U ok?

Me: Not really.

Drew: Wouldn’t know it. U always act like everything’s good.

Me: U know how they r. I have to keep it together for them.

Drew: Sometimes u need to let people b there for u. We got u.

Me: Sorry to txt so late. See you tomorrow

I place my phone on the charger next to my bed and gather everything I might need for tomorrow. I’m in for a long day and I’m sure I’ll need a distraction at some point. I wonder if chemo hurts? Will I feel it? How long will it last? Drew and I went over all of the information I was sent home with, but right now, I can’t remember anything about it. I’m not sure if my parents will grow up and be parents, but I know that Drew will be there with me, and that makes me feel better. He’s still someone I can count on, and that makes all the difference in the world to me. Drew’s face comes to my mind and I pull out the box from under my bed and start to look through the images. There is a section dedicated entirely to Drew, one that I ignored last time I went through this box, but it’s the one I immediately go for this time. I thumb through the images and come across one that I separate from the rest and stare at it intently. It’s from our senior year, pre-profession of love on Drew’s part, where we are sitting on a bench and I’m looking at the camera. Drew’s features were soft and focused solely on me, there’s a look on his face that I remember from the night we slept together.

The night I told him how I felt about him, he looked happy, and not the typical Drew happy, it was genuine, as if everything had finally come together. I remember thinking that it was almost too intense, but then again, I was so in love with him, that I couldn’t see straight. How did I miss it all those years ago, the look on his face in this picture is unmistakable, but I wasn’t looking for him then. I keep the picture out from the rest and place the lid back on the box to slip it back under my bed. I lean back on my pillows and recall that night and what our conversation might have been about before we were interrupted by a request for a picture.

I reach over to turn off the side lamp, but not before setting my new favorite image on my nightstand and setting my alarm. Drew will be here to pick us up in the morning, and I know that he will be as nervous as I am because it’s the unknown that awaits us, or rather me, and who knows how much any of these people can take. My support system seems to be failing around me, but then again, I probably haven’t given them a chance to
actually
step up.

Drew arrives early in the morning to pick us up and I find that I’m slightly off kilter, unable to make a coherent sentence, let alone articulate what I’m feeling. I keep thinking about the side effects the doctor mentioned I might experience from the chemo, and the hair falling out is at the top of my,
please spare me list
. Somehow, I don’t think I’m lucky enough to bypass that particular misfortune. I’m just finishing getting dressed when I hear a knock at my bedroom door, followed by his voice from the other side.

“You almost ready?”

“Yeah, c’mon in,” I say distracted, looking for my backpack, “I’m already dressed.”

“Aw, man,” he teases as he comes through the door. He studies my face and walks over to where I stand looking at my reflection in my vanity mirror, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right there with you.”

“I really do appreciate it, but please don’t feel like you have to stick around the whole time. I’m sure you have a ton of things you need to do for work.”

“I’ve got all that taken care of,” he looks around my room before returning to me, “did you get a bag of things to take with you?”

I nod and walk over to grab the old backpack I found on my closet shelf. I had thrown things in and then removed them, only to pack ten times more in there. “I got my iPad, a few magazines, a book I’m editing for work and my iPod. I feel like that should be enough, should I get something else?”

“We’ll be fine. If you need anything else, just let me know and I can always go out and get it for you.”

I breathe a heavy sigh and resign myself to what my day has in store for me. A short while later, we arrive to the hospital for round one of chemo and I’m trying my best to be optimistic. The room is lined in recliners, with patients stationed at most of them. Some of them look as though they have been coming here for a while, and others look just as scared as me. We are old and young, men and women, probably each with a different disease, yet in a matter of time, I will share something with these people I have never had to go through, and that thought causes me to catch my breath. What really hits home is that most of these people have no one to be with them, but I have my parents and Drew. Well, I have Drew. My parents are here, but I think they are mentally away.

The nurse walks over to me and directs me to a chair so they can begin getting the blood work needed to start dosing me with poison that will hopefully shrink the lump in my breast. The process seems like more waiting, than actual treatment and whatever it was I was expecting to happen, hasn’t. My parents, who can never sit still long enough, decided to take a walk, leaving Drew and me to watch TV or make conversation.

The nurse told me we would be here for about five hours, so we’re in it for the long haul, and I feel bad that Drew is stuck sitting here with me because I’m not much company. One of the drugs they gave me was Benadryl, just in case I have a reaction to the meds, and that seems to make me all too sleepy. I try to stay awake while he tells me about his latest project, but he can see I’m struggling to make it and takes pity on me. I don’t sleep the entire time because as soon as she comes in with the good stuff, that is, the actual chemo drug, I start to get anxious. All I can think about is the fact that there is actually poison going into my system to kill something that is trying to kill me. The irony is not lost on me.

Drew sees my panicked face and starts to talk about some sitcom he watched last night about some girls who are trying to start a business. I nod and feign listening, but it’s hard to pay attention. Whatever the show he’s telling me about, he says that he’s shocked they can get away with it on network TV.
Note to self, ask him about this show and add it to my must see list
. He continues talking about things, and even goes so far as to pull out my iPad and open the YouTube app so we can find videos of people doing stupid things. He’s being awesome and going above and beyond as far as I’m concerned, and I’m so grateful that he insisted on being here with me today.

When we arrive back to my place six hours after we left, my parents and Drew walk me into my room, insisting that I get some rest. I feel pretty decent right now, but I take his advice and lay down with my book that I have wanted to get back to. I knew reading would make me sleepy, but I love this book and fight like crazy to stay awake so I can finish it. Unfortunately, I can only fight so hard and eventually I fall asleep. I’m not sure how long I was out all I know is that I’m jolted from my bed by a horrendous wave of nausea. I crawl out of my bed in a hurry and lose my footing, falling on my ass next to the bed. Why is this happening? They gave me anti-nausea medication in my IV. I try to get up, but as I get to my knees, Drew is standing over me lifting me up to cradle me in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he says in a soothing tone, as he rushes me to the bathroom. “I got ya.”

I can’t respond because I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll empty the contents of whatever is inside of me all over him. I try to break free from his hold, but I’m just too weak to fight him. He sets me gently onto the floor and I raise myself up and grasp the edge of the toilet seat, retching loudly. I figure he left the room when he set me down, but instead I hear him shuffling through my bathroom drawers and found a ponytail to pull my hair back. He gathers my short hair in his hands and makes quick time of sweeping it up and then wets a towel and holds it to my head. I didn’t realize I was sweating.

“Go,” I heave again, hoping to avoid another round of vomiting, “away.” Another retch comes out. “I’ll be fine.”

He rinses the washcloth and kneels down next to me, placing the cool rag on my neck. He rubs my back as my body continues to shudder. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in a soothing tone.

I try to take a deep breath and the vomiting starts again and I grip the sides so hard that my knuckles are turning white. He tries to rub my back again, but I move away from his touch, and look at him. He looks as if I have punched him, but I just want him to leave.

“Please, Drew,” I plead as tears pool in my eyes. “Just go away. I don’t want y'all to see me like this.”

“Don’t be stupid. Let me help,” he winces when he realizes his choice of words and I glare at him. Maybe that’s what I needed, because tears aren’t working, but maybe anger will.

I turn at my waist, not letting go of the seat edge and stare him down, “Just let me do this. Alone.”

“No, stop being so damn stubborn and let me help you.”

“Fine, then get my mom!”

“They went out for a while, but they’ll be back soon. So I guess you’re stuck with me,” he says brusquely.

Just as I release my right hand to shove him away, another wave of nausea hits, distracting me from arguing with him. I told all of them that I don’t want them to see me like this, and I know it’s stupid, because we have all heard what cancer patients go through during treatment. I just don’t want them to see me weak and unable to do for myself. If I had it my way, I’d do this day alone at home, and then they could see me after the bad part has passed. Unfortunately, none of them would go for that deal when I first suggested it. Luckily, backup is here because I hear the front door open and my parents chattering about something.

“We’re in her bathroom,” Drew yells to them.

I hear them coming to my room and my mom’s gasp at seeing me like this is audible. I try to give her a smile and Drew stands up to let my mom do what moms do, mother me. She smiles sweetly at him, no doubt thanking him for being there and he starts to leave the room. I feel guilty, I know he was just trying to be there for me, and I was a little bitchy, but I think I am allowed that right now.

“Thank you,” I eek out before he is out of earshot. He looks back at me and nods with a wink before leaving me with my mom.