Chasing Fate

by Rachael Brownell

  Lock up. I'll meet you back here later. - J

  Great. I can't wait.

  Rushing out the door, I lock it up and close it behind me. It's not until I'm halfway down the block that I realize I locked my phone inside. I'm left with only two options as I stand in the middle of the sidewalk. Either I can get the key from Jackson or I can leave it there for the day.

  Continuing down the sidewalk, I pick up the pace so Amber doesn't worry when I don't show up on time. I would text her, but that's obviously not going to happen. By the time I'm back later, I'll have a slew of missed calls from her, I'm sure. She does that thing where she continually calls until you answer. It was cute until she did it once while I was working. My meeting had run later than planned. We had made plans to get a drink since I was in town that day. When I didn't show up, she started calling my phone. Knowing her, I had already placed it on silent, but that didn't mean it wasn't a distraction. My phone lit up every few minutes for nearly an hour before my boss told me to take my call. It was obvious that he was irritated. When I finally answered and explained the situation to her, her response floored me.

  "Cool. See you when you get here."

  She hung up on me. When I asked her later why she kept calling, she just laughed. She thought I was either dead on the side of the road or screwing Jackson and she wanted to interrupt. I tried to explain to her that if either of those things had been happening, I wouldn't have answered her, and she just shrugged.

  That's my best friend. And I love her dearly.

  Speaking of my best friend, there she is, waiting in front of the restaurant for me. Staring down at her phone, she doesn't see me approaching. I watch as she puts it up to her ear, waits, hangs up, and repeats the process. She's calling me. Over and over again. Only she won't reach me.

  "Amber," I call out.

  When our eyes meet, I see the tears. She's crying.

  Rushing over to her, I pull her in for a hug. "What's wrong?"

  "You didn't answer," she says between deep breaths.

  "And that made you cry?"

  "I thought something happened to you. I called Jackson and he said you were fine when he left. I've been waiting for him to call me back but he hasn't."

  She called Jackson. He's looking for me.

  "I left my phone at the apartment. Call him and let him know."

  Shoving her phone in my hand, she wipes at her eyes. "You call him. I want food. See you inside."

  Watching her walk away, I laugh. She's stronger than she knows. She's going to be fine after I'm gone. I wish she could see the strength I see.

  "I haven't found her yet," Jackson yells into the phone.

  "I'm here, Jackson. I left my phone at the apartment. I'm fine."

  "Jesus, Jessa. You had us all worried. You can't do that."

  "I didn't mean to lock it inside. I forgot to grab it off the bathroom counter."

  "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to yell."

  Silence falls. He's apologizing for more than just yelling at me. He's apologizing for our fight this morning.

  "I'm sorry, too."

  "I love you, ya know."

  "Love you, too. I'll call you when we're done, okay?"

  "Make it quick. This is our first argument, so makeup sex is going to rock."

  What a man. Always thinking with his penis, or at least about it. Not that I mind. I mean, I'm the one who benefits from him thinking about sex all the time. And, I think about it as much as he does now. He must have rubbed off on me.

  Handing Amber back her phone, I take the seat across from her.

  "So, what's the plan for today?" I ask, browsing the menu for something that sounds good. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. Actually, it's just the food. I could eat breakfast food all day long. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, biscuits. I love them all.

  "After breakfast, we're going for a couple’s massage and then shopping."

  "Don't we need to be a couple for that? I think Jackson might have an issue with you stealing me."

  "We can pretend. It's not like we've never done it before. Plus, the couple’s massage was cheaper than two regular massages and we get to be in the same room."

  "Good call."

  "After that, I was thinking we could go to the movies like we used to, eat crappy candy, and toss popcorn off the balcony. Sound like a plan?"

  "Sounds great," I say, excited to spend the day with my best friend. We haven't had a day, just the two of us, in too long. At least one of the kids normally finds a way to tag along.

  Amber gushes over my ring while we wait for our food. I tell her all about the proposal, meeting Jackson's family, and my new tattoo. For the first time ever, she sits quietly without asking any questions while I talk about my trip the entire meal.

  Something’s off. This isn't normal. I don't want to ruin our "date" so I let it go, but I'll ask her about it later.

  #22 Get a hot stone massage

  "That was so amazing it had to be put on the list."

  "Seriously? I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I didn't realize I made us both an appointment for hot stone massages. I assumed we'd have strong men rubbing us down."

  "That would have been just fine, too," I say, wiggling my eyebrows at her.

  "Well, should we go burn some money at the mall?"

  "Yes. I need to pick up a few things for the rest of our trip."

  "Like what?" she asks suspiciously.

  "Maybe some new lingerie, a dress or two. We're planning on making a pit stop in wine country on our way from Seattle to the Grand Canyon."

  "Fun. I wish I could go with you. Wine country sounds perfect right now."

  "Is there something going on you're not telling me, Amber? You sound sad and distant."

  Shrugging her shoulder, Amber slides behind the wheel. While we make our way across town to the mall, I consider pressing her for answers. Knowing that she will tell me eventually when she's ready, I decide to let it go for now. If she hasn't cracked by the end of the day, I'll push her a little. That's probably all it'll take anyway.

  The mall is as crowded as I expected it would be. Whenever the weather is less than perfect on the weekends, people around here tend to flock to the mall. For the stores, it means watching every person like a hawk to ensure people aren't stealing. There are more people walking around without shopping bags than there are with shopping bags.

  For people like me who are actually here to shop, it means there are more people in my way, making this trip twice as long as it should be. That’s fine, though, because it also means the movie will be busy later. More people to throw popcorn at, I guess.

  As we browse the lingerie store, I catch sight of Amber angrily texting someone on her phone. Looking away before she sees me, I move in her direction, focusing my attention on the racks of tiny underwear and push-up bras. By the time I'm standing next to her, she's composed herself and her phone is back in her purse.

  "You know," I begin, picking up the lacy red and black bra and holding it up in front of Amber, "I'm here for you, right? If something’s bothering you, you can tell me."

  "Every thing's fine," she retorts quickly, turning away from me.

  "So, you weren't just texting someone at the speed of light with a look of hatred on your face?"

  Her back stiffens, and she turns slowly around. The bright pink camisole in her hand slips through her fingers and floats to the ground. "You saw that," she finally whispers.

  "You don't have to tell me, but I hope you know you can. No matter what it is."

  Letting out a sigh, Amber moves through the racks, staying close to where I am. She hasn't spoken a word in a few minutes, but I can tell that's about to change at any moment. Her face is twisted like she's deep in thought, weighing her options. Instead of thumbing through clothing, she's cracking her knuckles one by one as she walks around.

  Finally, she turns to face me. Making eye contact, I can see she's about to break. I don't want that for her, not here, not now. Whatever's going
on, whatever is wrong, is worse than I thought.

  Taking her by the hand, I drop the things I picked up on the counter and pull her out the door. I don't let go until we're in view of the car. As soon as I hear the doors unlock, I crawl in and turn in my seat.

  "Spill it, because I can see you're about to break. Who were you texting? What is going on?"

  "Jessa..."

  "Whatever it is, I'm right here, Amber. I'll do anything I can to help."

  "That’s the problem," she begins, looking away. I hope this conversation isn't going in the direction I think it's about to go. "You're here now, but you won't be for much longer. It's not about the trip. It's not about you dying. It's about you giving up. You'd do anything to help me if the situation were reversed, but you won't even try and help yourself."

  "What do you expect me to do!" I scream. I'm angry. Today isn't supposed to be about me. Not about that.

  "See a doctor. Get another opinion. Try any form of treatment they'll offer. Even if nothing helps, at least you're going out like the fighter I know you are."

  Leave it to Amber to call me out. If I had known her issue was with me, not something else, I would have left it alone. I wouldn't have pushed her to talk about it. At all.

  "Can I please borrow your phone to call Jackson?" I mumble. "I need to let him know I'm on my way."

  "He's expecting you," she says as she starts the car.

  She was texting him. I don't know whether to feel betrayed or happy right now. Once I'm gone, they're going to need each other, but I'm still here right now, and I need at least one of them on my side.

  Chapter 19

  No matter how upset I am with Amber, I still feel compelled to hug her tight when she drops me off. I promise to call her when we arrive in Denver, our first pit stop on our way to Seattle. Hopefully, by the time we arrive, we're less angry with each other and can have a civilized conversation.

  Jackson is in the living room shoving things in his bag when I walk through the door. One look at me and he can tell I'm upset. Testing the waters, he asks about my day. When my only answer is "don't you know already," he nods his head and resumes packing.

  Yep. I'm pissed at you, too, buddy.

  It's not until we're halfway to Denver that either of us speaks again. It wouldn't have happened then, except I had to pee and there was a rest stop in a few miles.

  "Can you stop so I can use the bathroom, please," I ask, still facing forward. I've avoided looking directly at him thus far. I'm scared that my anger will boil over if I do.

  "I will, as long as you promise we can talk about it when you get back in the car."

  "I don't want to talk to you right now, Jackson."

  "I get that, but you do realize that we're trapped in this car together for the next two days. We're sleeping in the same hotel room tonight. Oh, and you're not going to be able to get rid of me for at least two weeks. I think we should talk about it now and not let it fester any longer. Plus, you're pissed off and you don't even know the entire story, I'm sure."

  "Fine," I agree, but only because my bladder is about to burst. It has nothing to do with the fact that all his points were completely valid. Or the fact that I'm in love with him and don't want to be mad at him any longer. Lastly, it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I want the entire story.

  "I knew you'd see it my way," he replies, smiling in my direction. I'm still looking out the front window, but I can see him out of the corner of my eye.

  Taking my time in the bathroom, I freshen up my makeup and pull my hair up into a ponytail, leaving the pieces that fall out behind. After I'm satisfied that I've kept him waiting long enough, I head back to the car.

  Where's the car?

  He's not parked where he was when I went inside.

  There's a blue car there now. Jackson's car is silver.

  Oh my God! He left me.

  "Jessa," I hear Jackson yell. He's standing next to the blue car, waving at me.

  He didn't leave me, but my mind has. Shaking my head to try and clear away the cobwebs, I wave back to Jackson and start in his direction. The car looks silver as I get closer. It's as if the blue coloring disappears, revealing the true color of the car.

  "What happened?"

  "What do you mean?" I ask, ducking into the car before he can see how upset I am.

  "I saw you come out of the bathrooms. You looked straight at me, but you were confused and scared."

  When I lied to him about my hair, I thought he didn't notice because he never said anything. He's obviously not taking that route again. He's going to ask every time from now on, and I'm going to have to find the strength to tell him the truth.

  "The car looked blue," I state flatly. "I thought you left me."

  Pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and a pen from the glove compartment, Jackson makes a note of what just happened. I watch as he puts the date, time, place and details. Above it, I notice the details about finding my hair on the pillow this morning.

  He's been watching closely.

  He's been keeping track of everything.

  I should make sure he knows about all of it. Forgetting what things are called. When I started to lose my hair. Everything.

  "How much have you written down?"

  "As much as I know. My dad said that the doctors would ask if you ever agreed to see a different one. They would want to know what symptoms you've displayed to see how far things have progressed."

  "Did you write down the time I forgot what a towel was called?"

  "Yeah. I'm sorry, I should have told you I was keeping track."

  "No, this is a good thing. I'll write down everything I can remember, too. That way the doctor will have everything he needs."

  Studying me closely, Jackson waits for me to correct myself. I'm not going to. I finally get it. I understand why they were talking behind my back. They both want what's best for me even if I don't agree. They want me to fight for my life when I know that it's not going to change the outcome.

  All I wanted was to live out the rest of my life the way I wanted to do it. That was before Jackson. That was before I saw how devastated Amber is. That was before I had to tell my father that his only daughter was dying. Most importantly, it was before Alex learned what was happening.

  I need to try, for them. If it brings them peace, I'll do it.

  "Jessa, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

  "There's one condition," I reply.

  "Anything. I'll do anything you want me to."

  "If, and we both know there's a small chance, but if this works, if someone somewhere can help me, I want Alex back."

  "Of course," he says quickly.

  "You realize that means he'll live with us."

  "So?"

  "Jackson, you're not just getting a wife when you marry me, you're also getting a son. That's not something you signed up for."

  "That's exactly what I signed up for, Jessa. I knew about Alex before I proposed to you. I also knew you were sick. I knew that there might come a time when you were better and wanted him to be a part of your life as your son. That doesn't bother me. I hope it happens in fact. I also hope we have other kids, lots of them. As long as I have you in my life, everything else is icing on the cake."

  How the hell did I get so lucky? I've never had good luck, especially when it comes to relationships and men. I've never won anything, not even a dollar on a scratch-off lottery ticket. Right now, it feels like I've won the lottery, though.

  For the next two days, Jackson and I talk about the big things we want out of life. I've avoided this topic since I didn't give much thought to my future. I had accepted the fact that I was going to die, and I still might, but I hope I'm going to live.

  By the time we arrive in Seattle, I'm ready to find a doctor, make an appointment and get the process started. The first day we're there, Jackson and I spend the day in the room searching the internet. We stumble across a list of the top ten neurological surgeons in the co
untry. As if fate were on my side, three of them are located in California.

  "Call them. We need to get down there as soon as we can," I say as Jackson stares at the computer screen.

  "I can't. You have to call them."

  "Oh. Sure," I reply, reaching for my phone. "What's the number?"

  Typing in the digits as Jackson reads them off to me, I hesitate to press send. This is it. This is the moment I find out if someone will help me–if I can be helped. This is my chance, probably my only chance, to live.

  After speaking with a nurse at the first office I call, she offers me an appointment in two months. Not wanting to wait that long, I respectfully decline. The second office is booked even further out. Losing hope, I dial the last number and explain my situation again.

  "Can you hold on for a minute please?" the receptionist asks.

  "Of course," I reply. Placing my hand over my phone, I say to Jackson "It sounds like bad news. She just put me on hold. We may need to look at some of the other places on the list. What about Minnesota? The Mayo Clinic is amazing, and it's ranked first."

  "Let's just see what she says. If we need to cancel the rest of the trip, we will, but I'd rather not. I know you'll regret it later on."

  "Miss," the receptionist says.

  "Yes," I reply, pointing at the phone so Jackson knows I'm not talking to him.

  "The doctor would like to speak with you before we make an appointment. He's with another patient right now. Is there a good number he can reach you at here shortly?"

  Surprised, I rattle off my number and hang up the phone.

  "What did she say?"

  "The doctor wants to talk to me. He's going to call me back."

  "That's good, right?"

  "I don't know. I've never had a doctor want to speak with me before I could make an appointment. Maybe he's trying to save us both some time."

  Taking a seat next to me on the bed, Jackson wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls my body as close to him as possible. "It's going to be all right, Jessa. I'm sure this isn't that out of the ordinary. Maybe it's a California thing."