“Do you want me to come over?” he asks quietly.
“No… but thank you. She hasn’t told me much, just what I told you, then we cried and she fell asleep. I’m hoping to have a talk with her in the morning, but she said she’s going to see an Oncologist tomorrow. That has to mean something, right? I mean, surely she wouldn’t need to see the doctor anymore if there was nothing he could do?” The hope in my voice hangs in the air.
“Bel…” his soft murmur of my name says everything that I don’t want to hear.
“I have to go. I’ll call or text tomorrow.”
“Okay. Remember I’m here, for her and you. I’m with you. You’re not alone, baby.”
“Thank you,” I answer then click the phone off. Standing up, I stare out of the window, watching the moonbeams bounce off the cars in the road out front. Then I glance up to the sky, to the stars. Knowing, no matter the questions I ask, there’s never an answer, not for me. “Why are you taking everyone from me? Was I bad? Am I supposed to be alone forever?” I whisper to an always silent sky.
Waking up, feeling achy, I hear noises in the bathroom and look around me. The reason becomes clear when I see that I spent the night on the floor. “Ugh.” Moving my neck from side to side, feeling the clicks and then stretching my arms does nothing to ease the pain. “Better brush away my morning breath,” I mumble to myself, getting up from the floor. I hear Amanda leave the bathroom and head downstairs, so I slip in there and give myself a quick freshen up and teeth brush before I head to the kitchen for breakfast.
I’m momentarily shocked when I walk into the kitchen and see Amanda taking a bunch of pills.
“What are all those for?” I ask. A frisson of fear running through my veins.
She turns to face me smiling. “Morning to you too,” she says winking and I grin, grabbing a coffee and planting myself at the table. “There’s a bunch of medication I need to take, some for pain, some to make me not feel drowsy and I have these drugs…” she says holding up a blue packet, “…these are an experimental drug, Bellie. I have been testing them, you know, to see if they’ll help.”
I sit up straighter. A fluttering starts in my belly. “So this means that you might not be terminal?” She smiles sadly and shakes her head, then moves to sit next to me, grabbing my hand.
“Sorry Anabel, these drugs are only supposed to give me longer.” My dry mouth doesn’t stop me from grinding my teeth, as she continues, “I’m too far past the point of return. Today, I’m going to see if it’s worth staying on them, whether I can get a bit of extra time from taking them. But honestly? I can feel it coming...” she looks away then shakes her head so slightly that if I weren’t actually paying attention, I would have missed it. Turning back to me she continues, “The end. It’s nearly time. There’s a lot I haven’t told you, and I’ll fill you in after the appointment today. If you want to know?”
I nod my head and bite my lip, trying desperately not to cry, feeling like my head is about to explode, while wishing that this was all a nightmare I could wake up from. On the outside though I know I have to keep myself together…for her.
Looking at the clock, I don’t really see the time, although I know it’s late afternoon. I hate doctor’s offices. They’re so sterile. I guess maybe they should be? But there’s absolutely no personality in this room, and when you’re telling someone if they’re going to live or die, a little bit of personality or, at least, somewhere more comfortable, might be appreciated. My eyes move over to the older man across the desk. His dark hair has flecks of gray throughout, and his brown eyes have enough wrinkles to tell me he must be in his sixties. He’s probably seen it all. Doing a job like this, for so many years, that has to take its toll.
“Ms. Warren.” He shakes Amanda’s hand, and I’m thrown by the fact that he’s using her maiden name. “I’m sorry we’re here. It’s not a pleasant appointment to have to keep. As we discussed on the phone, I have spoken with your doctor in Paris and we have conversed about our findings with you on this trial drug. I’m sorry to be giving you bad news…” He pauses and it must be for only five seconds but it feels like forever.
Why do doctors do that?
For dramatic effect maybe?
Do they not realize how precious those five seconds really are.
“The trial is failing. We gave it the best shot, and I’ve been told by Dr. Giroux that he pre-warned you that the chances of this drug working and prolonging your life for any length of time would be slim.” I look between the doctor and Amanda. I want to hit him. Hard. I feel like his words have just reached across the small office and bitten me. I can hear the blood whooshing in my ears. My arms are crossed over my chest as my hands grip my upper arms, nails biting in with a force I didn’t know I had. I knew this was probably going to be what he told us. Hell, Amanda had already told me, but hearing it from him makes it so much more real. I sit perfectly still, not knowing what to do or say.
Then I hear a soft, “Okay,” come from Amanda.
My head snaps to her and then to the doctor and I glare at him. “This is not okay,” I yell.
“Bellie,” she tries to placate me.
“No!” I scream. “Don’t say it’s okay. Don’t even fucking think that! The minute you say that it’s okay is the minute your body gives up the fight. And you’re not giving up the fight. Not while my heart beats. I’ll fight hard enough for the both of us.” My words slow as the emotion catches up. “I can’t lose you,” I whisper as she pulls my body into hers.
“You already knew what was going to be said. It shouldn’t be a surprise, honey,” she says softly.
“I know.” My breath hitches, and my legs feel numb. “I guess I just hoped…” I let my words hang and she says nothing. We just hold each other.
An hour after the appointment with Dr. Doucheface where he gave us the bad news that he didn’t know how long, but wouldn’t look past a couple of months at the most, I told her that meant we had to fit in as much as we could between now and then. Amanda shattered my world a little bit more when she explained that even if she lived for two months, it was likely she would be in a hospice for the last couple of weeks, and even before that she might not be up to living large. I explained that living large could just mean, me and her sitting in bed watching Dirty Dancing while eating candy. She smiled at that and told me she loved me. Now I know I have to treasure every piece of her I can have, for as long as I have it.
How we ended up at the diner, over on 5th, I’ll never know. We used to avoid this place because all the jocks and cheerleaders came here, and we hated watching them act like jerks. Now I realize what we were missing was the yummy food. I munch my way through a fully loaded burger and fries. Then my thoughts go elsewhere as I glance across to Amanda, who’s picking at her food but not really eating.
“You don’t like it?” I ask softly.
“Oh, yeah, it’s nice. I’m just not hungry. I don’t eat as much anymore, I rarely actually feel like eating.” She glances away from her plate. Suddenly my hunger dissipates, but I push through the sick feeling and keep my game face on.
“That’s okay, you eat what you can, and I’ll hoover up the rest. Deal?” I wink at her and her smile spreads from cheek to cheek.
“Deal,” she whispers.
“So, I hate to bring it up. But before the docs, you said you’d tell me everything later. It’s now later, Moo. So spill.” I blow her a kiss, hoping to keep things light-hearted, even if I feel like I’ve been punched in the vagina every time I have to bring up the subject, her face saddens as she tells me everything.
“You know Momma had cancer… breast cancer.” I nod again and she smiles. “Me too. It seems I was always destined to follow in Momma’s footprints. I had it about two years ago—”
“What?” I shout, making myself jolt with the pitch of my own tone.
“Shhh! it’s okay, Bellie. I’m so sorry I didn’t share, but you wouldn’t have been able to come over to Paris, and I couldn’t afford to
put your ass on a plane, honey. I knew the guilt of me being unwell would have crippled you, and I didn’t want that.” I can’t speak as my nose tingles and my throat feels like sandpaper. A lone tear escapes from the tight hold I’m trying to keep on myself. She smiles and wipes it away. “Don’t cry, Bellie. I’ll be okay. I promise.” We both ignore the lie that just fell from her mouth. Amanda grabs her coffee cup and sips a couple of times before continuing, “Because of the family history we decided to go for a double mastectomy—”
“Oh my God! What? How do I not know about so much of your life?” my shouts dwindle into a whisper. Light-headedness takes over as my thoughts scramble.
“Because you had enough to deal with. And Anabel, not trying to be harsh honey, but until recently, you weren’t strong enough to deal. Since I’ve come back, I’ve seen the old Bellie back, the one who wouldn’t take any shit. Back then, when this nightmare started for me. No, not even close, you couldn’t have dealt with it, especially on your own.” I close my eyes momentarily, hating that she’s right, that I’ve been so wrapped up in my own failings, that I wasn’t able to be there for my best friend. “It’s okay, honestly. You’re here now, and this is when I need you, Bel. Right now.”
I look at my friend. “I’ll be here. I promise.” My words are pushed up past my raw throat and I ease the lock on my jaw as the dullness in my chest spreads.
“I know you will,” she whispers. A tear, followed swiftly by another, flowing from her bright eyes. “So anyway, I had a mastectomy. I had chemo, lost all my hair and felt like shit for six months. They thought I was better, well, in remission at least. Turns out, it came back. This time, it’s more aggressive. I found out about eight months ago. I’ve had a few treatments, but then I’d had enough, I decided to stop trying to fight when it was pretty much inevitable that I was going to die. So I chose instead, to concentrate on prolonging my life as much as possible.” She closes her eyes and the silent tears keep spilling out. Apart from the tears you wouldn’t know she was crying.
“Why did you give up?” I ask her softly, knowing I have to support her decision even if I don’t want to, even though it’s breaking my heart.
“Because I’d rather live fewer months, and have as much fun as possible only being really uncomfortable at the end, than have months more with all of them in pain or discomfort. You wouldn’t do it to a sick animal, you’d put them out of their misery, I just wanted the same consideration.”
“I get that,” I tell her, with a sour taste in my mouth, and she smiles.
“I knew you would, my Bellie.” Squeezing her hand, my heart is breaking, but as long as it’s on the inside, as long as it’s not touching her then I’m good, I can deal. Amanda bites her bottom lip then carries on. “My pop was so mad, Bel. So angry. He shouted at me, told me I couldn’t give up, he couldn’t lose another woman in his life. My compromise was trying this trial drug. I have for a while, but then I knew… I can’t explain it, Bel…” She stops shaking her head and chuckles, but it’s an empty, hollow, false laugh, “…I just know whatever it was doing to prolong had stopped working. I told Pop when I found out the cancer was back, and especially that it was worse this time, that I was coming back here. He wanted to argue, but I said I wanted to be buried next to Mom.” She takes a breath in and so do I, remembering her mom. A grave in the same place as my parents, a grave I visit every month and lay flowers when I do my own parents—for Amanda. “Also, I told him I wanted to come back and spend time with you. Luckily, he never actually sold this house, only ever rented it out. I didn’t realize, we all thought he’d sold it. But I can’t say when he told me, it wasn’t like music to my ears. He’s coming back in about a week. He wanted to give us some time first. Pop’s girlfriend, Simone, the one I’ve told you about… she’s very sweet. They’ve been together for about eighteen months, so she’s been on most of this journey with me. I’m glad he’ll have her when I’m gone. I would’ve been so scared for him otherwise. And Bellie, I’m glad you’ll have Danny. Lean on him, he’ll be the strength you need. Let him in, honey, let him love you.”
I signal the waitress and ask for more coffee, she brings over a pot and refills us.
“What about Pierre?” I ask gently.
Amanda’s face pales and automatically my hand shoots out and grabs hers. “What? What is it you haven’t yet told me, Mandie Moo?”
Her lip wobbles and I suck in air through my nose. I swear I may not have a passport or a gun, but if he has hurt my beautiful girl, I will hunt him down and rip him a new asshole, then I’ll shoot him in the dick.
“He couldn’t cope,” she says in a low voice.
“He what? He couldn’t cope? Him? What a fucking asshole!” I spit out, angry for Amanda and already planning how I can get a passport real quick so I can tie his balls together with angry snakes.
“It’s okay,” she tells me sweeping her hand down the side of my head.
“No. It is absolutely not okay. It’s the exact fucking opposite of okay. You’ve been married for three years and together for five. What possible excuse could he have for not coping?” I bite out, my skin hot with anger.
“His mom died from cancer and his sister survived, but had to have a mastectomy,” she tells me and I blink, taking in the news.
Then my senses are restored when I reply in a softer tone, “So then, he of all people, should know how hard it is. For better or worse, in sickness and in health. Those words are supposed to cover you. He should be treating you delicately like you’re precious, healthy or unhealthy. Not turning tail the minute things become hard.” I swallow my own feelings, quickly dismissing the guilt that threatens to choke me. Knowing, in the end, I ignored my own wedding vows easily enough.
I watch Amanda composing herself, she swallows and sighs, and I can see the pain in her eyes. Whatever has happened, she loved him back then and what he did scarred her on the inside.
“He was with me at the beginning. He held my hand when the doctor told me I had cancer. He held my body as I cried, and he cried with me. When I had chemo, he stayed by my bedside because I was too sick to go anywhere. He was truly amazing the first time around. When I got better things changed, I can’t put my finger on it. He closed himself off, became distant. I thought he was cheating, but looking back I think it was more than that. I think he was closing himself off to me because he couldn’t face losing me.”
“But by doing that he was going to lose you anyway,” I respond, amazed at how stupid someone could be.
Amanda nods sadly. “Yeah, I know. So stupid. Anyway, when the cancer came back there was already a divide in the relationship. When they said it was terminal, Pop was the one by my side, holding my hand.” Amanda stops talking and I can almost feel the pressure in the air, the pain laced with sadness, hurt and betrayal swirling around us. Her face goes hard, and it shocks me. This isn’t her, well, very rarely. I prepare myself for what she’s going to say. “That day I got home and waited for Pierre to get back from work. I explained that he’d forgotten about my hospital appointment, and the lack of shock or remorse he showed for missing it told me that he’d not met me at home that day to take me to the appointment on purpose. I asked him what was going on. He told me that he couldn’t go through it again. He’d never survive another round of chemo and seeing me so unwell. And that it had killed him not being able to do anything.”
“What a fucking cop out,” I growl, my body tensing as burning heat flushes through my body.
“Yep. You haven’t heard the best bit.” I feel my eyes go wide and screw my toes up inside my shoes, as Amanda smirks at me, but it’s completely without humor. “He said that since I had my mastectomy, he didn’t see me the same anymore. Said I reminded him of what he lost in his mom and also of his sister, who’d also had a mastectomy. He said part of the problem is that I didn’t want to have reconstructive surgery done to have breasts again.”
“That fucking fucker, cock, jackass!” I scream jumping up. Pounding in my ears tak
es over as my vision clouds.
“Bellie, calm down,” Amanda tells me looking around the diner, luckily it’s empty apart from the waitress. Furious I sit back down, only reining myself in for her. Adrenaline pumps through me as the cogs start turning, working out how I can inflict the most amount of pain on his sorry ass. “He cried. Told me he knew he was a jerk, that he shouldn’t feel this way. That you always hear men say how they love their wives regardless, and even more so when they have survived something like this. Pierre said he knew he was in the minority and that it was a dick move what he was doing, but he also felt it best to be honest with me. So I could move on and find someone who would love me without my breasts.” It’s at this point that she breaks down, big gulping sobs erupt from her mouth and she doubles over, clutching her stomach. I quickly slide into the booth on her side and hold her, rubbing her back, letting her get it out, letting her put it on me. Knowing I need to do something in the future to break that man in two like he’s done to her.
After she calms down, and the poor waitress worried about the crying women in her diner gives us free pie, I ask her, “Do you still love him?”
“No.” Her reply is instant and I know she’s not lying. “I lost any feelings I had for him the moment he left me to face cancer and possibly death on my own, basically because he was a coward. I never told him I was terminal, I didn’t think he deserved to know. He left. Never came back, so to him I was dead anyway. I divorced him and now I don’t think about him. It’s like he’s been erased. The only thing I get upset about is how horrible he made me feel. I’ve not thought about sex since he left. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d like it. At least once before I die. Although not with just anyone. Pierre and I only had sex a handful of times between my mastectomy and him leaving. He always made sure it was doggy and now I know why. As much as I would like to find someone who I could spend a night with. I know as long as I have left, I’ll be insecure about how I look. I don’t feel beautiful anymore and he took that away from me. If anything, I hate him.”
Finally Unbroken Page 11
