Wish Upon a Star (2 page)

"I know you're scared, Annie. But we'll take this day by
day."

The weekend flew by in a haze of bewilderment and fear.
Despite our promise not to get ahead of ourselves, we spent a fair
amount of time on the web trying to get our heads around just what
the hell invasive ductile carcinoma meant. Even though we took
pages of notes, the information was confusing and
overwhelming.

The phone calls and text messages from friends and
business associates, while heartfelt and much appreciated, didn't
help our frazzled nerves. The way Annie kept pulling at the lock of
hair by her ear, I was afraid she'd pull it out by its roots.

We went for a bike ride on Sunday afternoon to get away
from it all. We even left the cell phones at home, and Annie was
never
without her phone. I figured on us taking an easy spin
for an hour or so, but once we got warmed up, Annie upped the pace.
Her hands were on the drops and her focus was straight ahead. She
said nothing, but kept pushing it harder, eventually leaving me
behind on a little rise.

I'd never seen her like this, but I'd seen competitors acting
the same way back in my racing days. She was riding angry. Who
could blame her? A couple of days ago, she'd been on top of the
world. Her album had gone platinum, the tour had been a smash, and
I'd gotten enough decent video that there were serious talks of using
the footage to make a film. For some icing on the cake, the wedding
plans were coming together.

And now this.

I tried to stay on her wheel, but two sleepless nights in a
row had caught up with me. Plus, I didn't have the anger that must
have been fueling her. I had worry and doubt and fear. Apparently,
they were nothing compared to Annie's anger.

Once I lost sight of her, I eased my pace and headed straight
back to The Villa, our nickname for Annie's place. I had no idea how
long she would last. The thought of her exhausting herself someplace
where I couldn't find her made my blood run cold.

Keeping my panic bottled up, I rolled through the open gate
a little bit later. Annie's bike was leaning against the garage door. She
was sitting on the driveway next to it, arms wrapped around her
knees. Her head was resting on her arms and her body was shaking
from tears I couldn't see, but sensed were flowing.

I leaned my bike against hers and dropped down next to
her.

"Hey."

A minute or two later, she raised her head, but kept her
focus forward. "Remember that day in the park in Malibu when I
spilled my guts to you? And I told you the story about the whole
blonde hair, stage name thing in high school? Well, there's a part to
the story I never told you. Didn't think it was important. Until now."
She sniffed and wiped the tears away with her sleeve.

"At first I just liked the name Cassandra because of the
exotic vibe. Hell, I was sixteen, that was enough. But when I was a
senior, I got on this mythology kick and learned the origin of the
name. Did you know there's a Cassandra in Greek mythology?"

I shook my head.

"I didn't either. But it's a story the tortured artist in me
totally fell in love with. Cassandra was the most beautiful of the
daughters of Priam, the last King of Troy. Apollo loved her, so he
gave her the power to foretell the future. But when she rejected his
love, he became angry. He wasn't allowed to take his gift back, so he
made it so nobody would ever believe her prophesies. It was so
tragic. She was called a false prophet. Some thought she was insane.
She told the Trojans what was going to happen in their war with the
Greeks, that there were soldiers hidden in the wooden horse. But
such was her fate that she knew disaster was coming, and yet was
unable to prevent it.

"When Troy fell, she was dragged from Athena's temple, was
brutally attacked, and was taken as prisoner to Mycenae, where she
became King Agamemnon's concubine. Eventually, she was killed,
along with Agamemnon, by his wife and her lover."

Annie took a deep breath.

"As a teenager, the story of a beautiful woman who told the
truth, and yet had her words discounted by those in power
resonated with me. And now here I am. My body's telling me the
truth and I don't want to listen." She sniffed again and raised her
head toward the sky.

"Why, E.J.? Why me? Why now? I've tried to be good. It's not
fair!"

She leaned her head against me as a new round of tears
broke loose. I put my arm around her and held her tight.

The only words of comfort that came to mind sounded
cheap and hollow, so I held my tongue, hoping my actions were
sufficient. Her sobs eventually came to an end, but she didn't
move.

"Annie, you still with me?"

"For now, at least."

"We can stay here as long as you want. I'm not going
anywhere."

"Promise?"

"On my honor as a mechanic who's met Fabian Cancellara,
I'm not going anywhere—ever."

She patted my chest and let out a long breath. Birds
twittered back and forth. They were happy sounds that somehow
seemed hopeful.

Hope.

Yeah, we definitely needed hope.

In time, I coaxed Annie indoors with a promise that I'd make
dinner while she showered. The pasta was boiling and I was
chopping some vegetables when my phone rang. It was Miranda,
Annie's best friend. She was also the woman who'd been Mom's
favorite nurse the last year of Mom's life. Annie and I had often joked
that once she and Miranda had gotten to know each other, Annie had
come to totally prefer Miranda's company over mine.

I'd barely said hello when Miranda got straight to business.
"Where will Annie's treatment be?"

"I don't know. There's a hospital here in Santa Rosa, Sutter
something or other. I assume she'll get her treatment there."

"Who are her doctors?"

"Christ, Miranda, I don't know. We're supposed to meet
someone on Tuesday, a surgeon I think."

"So you don't know where she's going to get her treatment
or who's going to be treating her."

I rubbed my temples. I thought the world of Miranda, but
this conversation wasn't helping.

"Obviously not. Been kind of busy trying to come to grips
with this. Are you going to keep asking me questions—"

"You need to come home."

"To Indy? What the hell are you talking about? I can't come
home."

Miranda sighed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't very clear. You both
need to come to Indianapolis. I think Annie should have her
treatment here."

"There? Why?"

"Who are you talking to?"

I whirled to find Annie standing at the foot of the stairs. Her
hair was still wet, and her eyes, though not bloodshot, still had a
defeated look to them. When I told her it was Miranda, she actually
smiled and practically ran to my side.

She grabbed the phone and put it on speaker. "Hi Randi,
miss you."

"Hey Annie, I miss you too. How are you holding up? And
don't give me any song and dance."

Annie leaned against the counter. "Honestly, not so good. I
go from denial to anger to tears at the drop of a hat. I'm scared out of
my skull."

"I know you are honey. And I have an idea that'll help, if you
hear me out."

I turned my attention to dinner while my fiancé and her best
friend discussed Miranda's proposal. I knew it was a done deal when
Annie turned the speaker off, sat down at the dining room table and
asked me for a pen and paper. By the time their conversation was
over, Annie had three full pages of notes. She handed the phone back
to me.

"Listen up, E.J. Try to relax tonight. Tomorrow, your job is to
book a flight to Indy and pack some things. Annie's going to be busy
contacting her doctors to get her records sent here. I'm going to have
you meet with a doc my mom works with. I'll call you tomorrow
when I have the appointment confirmed. Any questions?"

I shook my head. "No. Well yes. Why are we doing
this?"

"You're a good man, and Annie's a strong woman. But you
have no support system out there. No parents, no friends. Nobody.
You've got people that can and will help you here. I gotta run. Give
Annie a hug for me."

As soon as I cut the connection, Annie looked up from her
notes. "Got your marching orders? I know I've got mine."

I chuckled. "Guess so. You okay with this?"

She gave me her decision-is-made nod. "Yes. That phone
call's exactly what I needed."

"Good. But what's up with this Randi business? I've never
heard anyone call her anything but Miranda."

"Yes, well, we girls must have our secrets. There's more to
Randi than you know. And no, you're not allowed to call her that."
Annie raised her eyebrows and for the first in days, she gave me a
genuine, ear-to-ear smile that made me think that maybe we might
have a chance against this thing.

The minute Annie saw Miranda at the airport, she dropped
her bag and ran into Miranda's waiting arms. Annie's back starting
heaving as Miranda stroked her hair and spoke to her in a tone too
low for me to hear. I kept my distance. This was a moment between
friends.

When I drew near, Miranda handed me her car keys. "You
drive. I need to bring Annie up to speed on our plan."

"What do you mean, our plan?" Annie said.

"I'll tell you on the way."

While we double-timed it to the car, Miranda explained she
was going to serve as Annie's Patient Advocate, her go-to person for
any questions Annie might have.

"All too often, people in your situation are totally
overwhelmed. Between the doctors, the medical terminology and the
insurance issues, just to name a few, the learning curve is impossibly
steep. It's not uncommon that a recently diagnosed cancer survivor
doesn't even ask any questions because he or she simply doesn't
know what to ask. Or if they have a question, they don't know who to
approach.

"The hospital will assign a Patient Navigator to help you
through the process. She'll answer your questions and get you
information. If you want, she'll sit in on your meetings with
doctors.

"But I know you, Annie. And I know you may not be
comfortable confiding in someone you've just met. That's where I'll
come in. If you have a question you're not comfortable asking the
Navigator, ask me. If you have a concern, bring it up. I'm sure you
both are dealing with a ton of uncertainty right now. I can help
relieve some of that."

At the car, Miranda guided Annie into the back seat, grabbed
an accordion folder, and joined her back there. They spent the drive
to my condo deep in conversation. I caught snippets of things that
sounded familiar, like chemotherapy and radiation. Other things, like
port and genetic markers, were over my head.

When we got to the condo, Miranda followed us in. The
aroma drifting toward us from the kitchen immediately got my
mouth watering. I inhaled deeply to make sure before looking at
Miranda.

"Irish Stew and soda bread?"

She smiled. "Yep. I figured you two could use some good,
old-fashioned, comfort food, so there you go."

Miranda hung out while we got settled in and wouldn't leave
until we assured her we were okay. Before she took off, Annie gave
her what looked like a bone-crushing hug.

"Thank you so much Randi. I don't know how I can ever
repay you."

"Oh that's easy, honey. Get better so we can all dance at your
wedding reception. One more thing. When I called you a cancer
survivor a while ago, I meant it. You'll have good days and you'll
have bad days, but you have not been sentenced to death. You will
survive this. Don't ever forget that each day that you wake up is one
day closer to beating this thing." She squeezed Annie's hand and
headed for the door. "I'll check in after your appointment. Call me if
you need anything."

We ate a quiet dinner in a travel-induced stupor. While I
cleaned up, Annie flipped through the materials Miranda had given
her, jotting down a note here and there. With a sigh, she got up from
the table and plopped onto the couch. She kicked her shoes off and
propped her feet on the coffee table.

She sat there, with her eyes closed and her head leaned
back, taking slow, deep breaths. It was a relaxation technique I'd
seen her employ when she'd gotten majorly stressed out on tour.
Whether it would help her tonight, I had no idea.

I had a moment of inspiration and brewed one of her
favorite drinks. After a couple of deep sniffs of the French Vanilla hot
chocolate aroma, she opened her eyes.

"I don't know if it'll cure the cancer, but it'll sure make me
feel better tonight. Thanks." She took the steaming, ceramic Kermit
the Frog mug in both hands and held it to her nose. Her lips curved
upward and then she took a sip.

"So what can you tell me about this doctor I'm seeing
tomorrow?" she said.

"
We're
seeing tomorrow. Nothing much other than
we'll see her after we meet with the Navigator. She's affiliated with
St. Vincent Hospital. It's about fifteen minutes from here. It's the
hospital where Mom worked. I think Miranda's mom works up there
now."

I turned on the television. "Enough of this serious business.
Time for a few laughs." I slid in a DVD and joined Annie on the
couch.

We spent the rest of the evening laughing like we hadn't a
care in the world while we watched
Young Frankenstein
.
When it was over, I took Annie in my arms, looked into her eyes, and
stroked her hair.

"Can I be totally honest with you about something?"

"Uh huh."

"That—" I pointed toward the TV, but never took my eyes off
her. "—is beyond a shadow of a doubt, the greatest piece of cinema
ever made."

Her eyes grew wide for a few seconds. Then her eyebrows
furrowed and she pushed me down with both hands.

"That? The greatest piece of cinema ever made? How dare
you say such a thing?" She climbed on top of me and started poking
me in the chest. "There is no way that's the greatest movie
ever."