Rain (4 page)

After lunch, he drove us back to our street and parked in his driveway. He walked with me to my front door, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to me.

“In case you need a stranger to talk to again.” He began to walk away as I opened the folded paper and saw his name and number handwritten on it.

“I’m not sure that I can still call you a stranger,” I called after him. “I mean, we’re on a first-name basis and everything.”

He had turned around when I was still talking. “Plus, I know your secret,” he yelled back to me. My mind went right to my cancer, and my expression sobered. I started to look away, but then he spoke again. “You like rock music.”

I laughed, not having expected that.

“Thanks for today, Kyle; it’s just what I needed.”

He nodded and flashed a half smile. “See you, Taylor.” And with that, he went into his house.

CHAPTER THREE

Sitting on my bed, I retrieved my iPhone from my purse to enter Kyle’s phone number and noticed I had a missed text message.

Austin:
You never called yesterday.

The phone works both ways,
I thought, irritated. I knew I needed to tell him what was going on, so I texted him back.

Me:
Sorry, bad day… Went to bed early. I need to tell you something. Can you come over after dinner?

Mom would be home soon, and she would want to have dinner together; plus, I needed a little time to not think about what I had to tell Austin after the good day I had. My good mood will be killed once I start talking about it. A few minutes after I sent my message, I received one back.

Austin:
Yes. Is 7 okay?

Me:
Perfect.

Austin:
See you then babe. Can’t wait!

I didn’t respond to his last message. I wanted to see him, but I dreaded the conversation; I honestly wasn’t sure how he would take it. I finally put Kyle’s number in my phone as I had intended to do when I’d seen Austin’s message. I didn’t know Kyle’s last name, so I entered his name as Kyle Stranger. I thought about texting him to thank him again but wasn’t sure if the number was a cell phone or a landline, and I felt weird calling.

I clutched a handful of my hair, looked at the pink, and smiled to myself. I loved my new hair and couldn’t believe someone I barely knew had taken me to get it done. There were kind, generous souls out there; it seemed rare to find—especially in guys my age.

***

I awoke to the sound of a door shutting, signaling that my mom was home. I hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but now that I had been sleeping, I wanted to sleep longer. Instead, I dragged myself off the bed and went to greet my mom.

I found my mom in the kitchen facing away from me.

“Hey, Mom. How was work?” I asked cheerfully. My mom turned around with a smile on her face and then froze. Her smile lines were replaced with frown lines.

“Your hair better be temporary.” Her voice rose as she spoke. I had forgotten about my hair and reflexively looked at it. We shared the same blond hair, and I had just rebelled against it. Her hair was shorter than mine, just a little past her chin. She kept her hair straight except the slight curl in toward her neck.

“It is permanent,” I admitted, confirming what she already knew.

“I told you, you weren’t allowed to dye your hair, Taylor! You went behind my back and did it anyway?” Her angry voice cut into me. I felt bad, but I had to stand my ground.

“I’m going to lose my hair anyway,” I said coolly.

She flinched at my words.

“This was something I could control, Mom. I didn’t do it to spite you.” I hoped she understood what I was trying to say. Tears began forming in my eyes, mirroring the ones in hers. I went to her, wrapped my arms around her, and hugged her tightly, trying to fight the tears that wanted to spill out. I had already cried so much, and I knew I would be crying a lot more before this was over.

***

Austin showed up a few minutes before seven. I had put on a sweatshirt and had the hood up to hide my hair for the time being. I opened the door, and my stomach was filled with knots. I hadn’t been this nervous around him since we had started dating. We had been together for almost a year now.

He flashed his killer grin at me and swept in for a kiss before I had time to react. His embrace was warm, and some of the nervousness and knots lessened. I let myself live in this kiss and forget what I had to tell him. Warmth spread through me, and I clutched him tightly, not wanting to let go. At that moment, everything felt like it would be okay as long as he didn’t let go. Then he let go.

Reality came back to me, and I looked around. Thankfully, my mom was still in the kitchen cleaning up and had not seen my huge display of affection for Austin.  I guided him to my room and shut the door. Normally, that would not be allowed, but I had told my mom I was telling Austin tonight, so she was okay with giving me privacy. Austin gave me a look of surprise when I shut the door and then grinned at me. He was getting the wrong idea. I wish I was shutting the door to be intimate with him, but that wasn’t going to be happening tonight. We hadn’t slept together—not that he hadn’t wanted to—but I wasn’t ready for that huge step yet, even though I had been tempted on multiple occasions.

I sat on the bed, and the cushion sank in more as he sat down next to me. He kissed me deeply again while he reached for my hood and brought it down off my head. He broke the kiss, surprise written all over his face.

“What did you do to your hair?” His tone of voice told me he didn’t like it. I immediately became defensive.

“Gee, thanks, Austin. Way to make a girl feel good about her new hair.” I rolled my eyes at him.

“It looks fine, but now you look like a rebellious, troubled teen. I liked your hair how it was,” he said, fingering my hair.

“Wow, thanks. So to have pink in my hair means I have to be a troubled teen?” I pulled away from him, and my hair fell out of his hand.

He tried to recover. “Come on, Taylor. That isn’t what I meant.”

“Oh, I think it was Austin. I like my hair, and I did it for me—not anyone else,” I shot back angrily.

His face reddened, and before he could speak, I got to the point of him coming over.

I controlled my voice, trying to hide my anger. “This isn’t why I wanted to talk to you. My hair really doesn’t matter right now.”

“Okay,” he said, dragging out the word.

I took a deep breath, getting ready to get it over with. I closed my eyes and just blurted it out.

“I have cancer, Austin.” I let go of the breath and opened my eyes. He was quiet, and his face was blank. The redness that had graced his face only a few moments before had gone, leaving behind a pale complexion I had not seen on him before.

“How?” Was the only word that came out of his mouth. He hadn’t moved. Just stared at me, dumbstruck.

“Uh, I don’t know. I wasn’t ready to find out all about it when the doctor told me. Even if he had told me, I probably wouldn’t have remembered.”

His voice came out a little shaky. “You’ll be okay, right?”

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice coming out at a whisper as tears formed in my eyes.

He finally unfroze and hesitantly wrapped his arms around me. This time he held me lightly, unlike the tight, warm embrace he’d given me earlier. I yearned for the way he usually hugged me.

“When will you begin treatment?” His voice was more controlled this time.

“I’m not sure. I need to go back to the doctor Friday. They may make me start before my birthday. One thing they did tell me was the sooner they start, the better the chances of killing the cancer will be.” I was surprised at the calmness of my voice when I felt like I was falling apart inside.

Austin took my face in his hands, and his gaze found mine. I could see the love and tenderness in them that had swept me off my feet almost a year ago.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ll be by your side,” he promised, telling me the thing I wanted and needed to get through this. The knots seemed to unravel, and it was as if a weight had been lifted. He kissed me softly and carefully, like I was fragile. He had never kissed me this way before, and I didn’t like it.

“I’m not fragile,” I teased and kissed him harder. I supposed my bruise would say otherwise, but I didn’t want to be treated like I was going to shatter if someone touched me. I leaned against him and soaked up his warmth as he held me until my mom said that it was time for him to go. He gave me a careful hug and goodbye kiss before he left, which I hated. I also hated the sad expression in his eyes when he looked at me. Ugh.

Without recognizing it, I realized this was why I didn’t want to tell anyone. I didn’t want to be seen or treated differently. He never asked me what kind of cancer I had. I decided it was because he was in shock. Or maybe he didn’t think I knew yet.

***

The time leading up to my doctor appointment was a blur. I went back to school and fell back into my routine. Everyone other than Austin and Liz had no clue anything was wrong, and my mask of normality held up. Austin continued to treat me like a porcelain doll, no matter how many times I told him I wasn’t going to break. His kisses had become soft and brief in place of his usual demanding, passionate kisses. I hated it, and I wanted to scream and throw something at him. But we were usually at school when these things took place, and losing it in the hallway was not a good way to pretend everything was normal.

Liz talked about boys and upcoming parties, trying to act like everything was normal, but her demeanor had changed. I could see behind her smiles, excessive talking, and excited voice that she was working hard to form those smiles and her voice had taken on a different octave than her usual excited tone. No one else seemed to notice. Maybe it was because I was looking for any signs of the two people who knew the truth treating me differently.

I had heard someone ask Liz whether she’d been sick or just playing hooky on Wednesday. She had glanced at me before she’d answered.

“It’s not playing hooky. It’s called a mental health day.” I hadn’t realized that she had skipped school the day after I told her the truth. She was trying to act like everything was okay because it was what I wanted.

The one time she had been genuinely excited was when she had seen my hair.

“Oh, my god. Your hair is awesome!” Liz had exclaimed as soon as she saw me. Her eyes had lit up with surprise and awe. She fingered my hair and nodded with approval. “It looks hot. Did your mom totally freak?”

“At first, but I got through to her,” I told her. She nodded in understanding.

“I can’t believe you just went for it. Go you,” she commended. I hadn’t told her that Kyle had been the reason I’d actually gone through with it. She would have read way too much into it.

Now I was sitting nervously in a waiting room lined with wooden chairs with gray fabric cushions. The walls were a bright white, and disinfecting chemicals could be smelled. I fidgeted uncomfortably in the chair. Mom was sitting next to me, flipping through a Home Living magazine, but I could tell she wasn’t taking anything she saw or read in—if she was even trying to read. I swear, waiting rooms were invented to torture you or make you go crazy and end up in an insane asylum instead of being treated for what was actually wrong.

Just when I was ready to go check myself into the nearest one, my name was called.

“Taylor Sullivan,” a friendly female voice beckoned. 

I glanced at my mom and stood up. The woman who had called my name had short, dirty blond hair and held a folder in her hands. I walked to her, and she introduced herself.

“Hello, you must be Taylor,” she began, smiling at me. “I’m Doctor Arenstam, and I will be taking over your case.”

That surprised me. Usually doctors didn’t come out and call for you. That was usually the nurse’s responsibility. She extended her hand, and I shook it. She had a kind face that held deep smile lines. She shook my mom’s hand as well before she guided us to her office. When we entered her office, she motioned for us to sit in front of her large wooden desk, and she took her seat on the other side facing us.

“Taylor, I would like to begin by hearing any questions you have,” she stated. I swallowed hard. There were so many questions, and I wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Is…is my cancer genetic?” I asked.

Sympathy crossed her face before she spoke. “No, Taylor, there are not any genetic markers in your cancer that would be linked to genetic causes. Your cancer is environmental, not genetic,” she told me calmly.

My face scrunched with confusion, I thought cancers generally ran in families and were genetic. “What does that mean?”

“Well, most cancers are environmental, not genetic. When cancers run in a family, a lot of the time it is because they were exposed to the same environmental factors. In the environment today, there are a lot of environmental factors that have cancer-causing agents and have links to causing cancer. Some areas are worse than other. One significant problem is in food. Most fruits and vegetables available at the store have had pesticides used on them in order to keep bugs and insects from destroying the crops. I cannot exactly say what you were exposed to that caused your cancer, just that it is environmental,” she explained, never breaking eye contact.

The other doctor had been cut and dry and didn’t show many emotions. Dr. Arenstam’s eyes held sadness, and I could tell that if she could she would eradicate the cancer from me along with every child and adult that had it. It was hard to wrap my mind around this new information. My environment is causing my cancer? How is that even allowed?

“Do you understand?” she questioned.

I just nodded my head, not ready to try to use words after that bombshell. It was bad enough that I had cancer, but finding out that it was because of the things I had come in contact with just made it so much worse.