Jean arrives, saving me from the conversation. The guy next to her is not quite my height. He’s got sandy blond hair and dark chocolate brown eyes.
“Sorry we’re late!”
“It’s okay.”
Bending down, she gives me a brief hug before introducing me to the guy she’s with. After learning his name is Tristan and exchanging greetings, I introduce her to Parker.
“Ah, the famous Parker. It’s so good to finally meet you. I can’t get Dre to shut up about you.” She’s teasing, but it causes Parker to sit up taller.
Looking my way, he gives me wink. “She seems to like making me the topic of conversation. Which is good because I can’t shut up or stop thinking about her, either.”
My eyes widen at his words, as do Jean’s.
“Oh my God,” she sighs next to me, her eyes glistening at his words.
I look back at Parker and our eyes lock. Searching them, I look for anything that says he’s joking. Something that says his words don’t have much meaning behind them. I need them to say we’re just friends, nothing more, but I don’t see that. Instead, I see a guy who I’m developing feelings for, and who, I know, returns them.
We finish our dinner quickly, then pile in one car together to save on parking. I can tell Jean really likes Parker; she taps my leg or grabs my hand when he says something she likes. Which is almost everything.
Walking into Tainted, Jean and I are stopped immediately to show our I.Ds. The bouncer ushers Tristan and Parker through without even a look.
After I get my stamp of approval on the inside of my right wrist, Parker takes my hand and leads the way into the three-story night club. We find a small table against the metal railing that overlooks the dance floor directly across from the stage.
The dance floor is considered to be on the first floor, but really it’s sunken down by a few steps. There is a large staircase on either side of the club leading to the third level where there are more round tables.
Parker motions for me to take a seat, but Jean tugs on my free hand. “Hey, we’re going to go get drinks. Save our spot!” she yells over my shoulder to the guys.
Pulling me toward the bar, I yell, “I can’t drink tonight, remember?” The music is blaring so loud I can’t even hear my own thoughts.
“Why?” She still has my hand in hers, pulling me through the swarm of people.
I try yelling over the noise of the music and people but she doesn’t hear me, so I wait until we reach the bar.
“I’m getting my drugs changed Wednesday for the last two rounds. I had specific instructions not to drink for at least five days prior.”
“No shit?”
“You’ll survive a night without me drinking.” I laugh.
With a vodka cranberry, two beers, and water for me, we make our way back to the table. I slide into the chair next to Parker. His arm is resting on the back of my chair and once I’m seated he scoots his chair closer, bringing his other arm around my waist. I give him a smile and hand him a beer.
“Not drinking tonight?” He motions his beer toward the water bottle in front of me.
“Nah.”
We chat, dance in our seats, and laugh about anything and everything. I’ve never seen Jean so into a guy. She is hanging on his every word like they’re her lifeline, eventually making her way onto Tristan’s lap.
Shortly after the band comes on, I overhear Tristan yell in Jean’s ear that he wants to make his way down in front of the stage. Glancing in that direction, I see the mosh pit already forming. No way in hell I’m doing that!
Parker nudges my side. “Doesn’t that look like fun?”
“No!”
Laughing, he takes a swig of his beer. “Ah, come on, babe. Just think of how close our bodies will be down there. It will be like old times.” He gives a slight wiggle to his eyebrows before rumbling out a deep laugh.
“Our bodies can be close right here.” I scoot even closer to him, wrapping his arm back around my waist, putting my free hand in his, and clasping our fingers together. “See. We’re close.”
That causes him to laugh harder. Jean and Tristan stop mid-conversation to look at us.
“What’s so funny?” Jean asks.
“Aundrea wants to go down in the mosh pit!” he yells between laughs.
“I do not!” I yell back over the music.
“Oh, come on, Dre! Think of how fun it will be.” She beams.
“No.” I don’t feel like getting pushed around. It’s not even the fact that I feel minor aches and pains in my joints. I can push through that, but I can see me slipping on someone’s spilled beer and falling to my death in the middle of the sticky, dirty floor. No one will be paying attention because they’ll be jumping and slamming to the music. I’ll end up getting stomped on, kicked, and probably with someone’s bodily fluids sprayed all over me. Or, worse, I’ll be pushed and my wig will go flying to the ground. That does not sound like a good time to me.
“I think there’s a small opening in the center we can squeeze our way into,” Tristan points.
Or not.
Yeah. The center. Right in the middle of the action.
Parker and Jean both turn to get a better look. I take this opportunity to look for the nearest exit sign because I’ll be using it a lot sooner than I intended. There is no way I am risking losing my hair over this.
Clapping her hands, Jean bounces in her seat like a five year old. “You’re right! Come on, let’s go. It will be so much better down there.” She grabs Tristan’s arm, pulling him away from the table.
Better? How is being pushed and shoved better? I need this explained to me.
“Come on, Aundrea,” Parker says, standing.
He doesn’t take my shaking head as an answer because he starts to pull me up from my chair.
“I’ll keep my arm around you the entire time. I’ll shield you from harm’s way,” he says protectively, while winking.
We walk side by side to the floor where all the crazies have formed. Parker’s arm remains tight around my waist. We stand in the back of the crowd away from the mosh pit.
Parker starts to dance and it’s nothing like our dancing before. It’s carefree. He’s carefree. He throws his hands in the air, dancing and screaming with the crowd.
He looks so young, like he hasn’t a care or worry in the world. He’s free. He has the largest smile on his face, fist bumping the air, splashing beer out of the bottle, and trying to sing along to the lyrics.
In this moment, there is no fear.
No judgment.
No outsiders.
No cancer.
Everyone is equal.
It’s about being free.
It’s about letting it all go.
Moving closer to Parker, I throw my hands in the air and move gently on tiptoe with the beat of the drums. I’m worried about jumping too much and causing my wig to fall backward. I yell and cheer with everyone else, making the occasional discrete wig check.
I can see Parker watching me with a look of lust. Closing my eyes, I let the music take over.
I forget about yesterday.
I don’t think about tomorrow.
I’m just Aundrea.
I’m free.
Chapter Twelve
I hate small talk. Talking about the weather, school, local events … it’s all boring. It’s information to pass the time. I’d rather say, “Hi, I’m fine, thanks, bye.” But I can’t do that with my parents. Especially my mom.
“School is fine, Mom. I have a laid back instructor who lets us work at our own pace.”
“Your own pace? What kind of class is this?”
“It’s online, Mom. The first day he posted the schedule and assignments, allowing us to work ahead if we want.”
“Work ahead? So you’re teaching yourself? What kind of school is this?”
“Mom, it’s fine. A lot of online classes are more chill. It’s why we take them.” Hey, I’m only being honest. Everyone is a procrast
inator from time to time. That’s why online classes are so great.
“Well, I don’t like it. I’m thinking about the loans you’ll have and for what? For a class where the teacher doesn’t even teach?”
“Mom, he does. He still posts lectures that we have to listen to in order to get the credit. It’s fine. I assure you.”
“If you say so. How is everything else going? Jason’s not overworking you is he? Because I can have your dad talk to him.”
“No, he’s fine. I’m barely there, to be honest.”
“And you’re feeling better?”
Feeling better? Am I?
“Yeah, of course. Everything is good.” I can see my reflection in the sliding glass doors off the patio. There are dark purple bags under my eyes from the lack of sleep. I get maybe three hours a night. The pain in my joints is becoming too uncomfortable, and the pain medication isn’t helping. I try to muffle my cries with my pillow, but I have a feeling Genna hears them.
“Good. I’m glad, honey. Dad and I took a couple weeks off, so we can be with you for your last two treatments.” My parents tried to make it up on the weekends, like we talked about, but the timing never worked.
“Sounds good.” What else am I supposed to say? Great! Let’s make it a party!
“What else is new? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in weeks.”
Days. It’s been two days.
“Nothing is new, Mom.”
“Did you tell her about Parker? Tell her about Parker!” Genna calls from somewhere in the house. I’m sitting on the chaise lounge outside on the new patio Jason made for her. It’s beautiful: dark red brick with red-cushioned furniture, a small outdoor fireplace, and a built in grill. He even had a canopy custom-made to cover the entire patio so they could sit outside in the shade. It’s beautiful. I could sit out here all day in the peace and quiet.
“Who’s Parker?” my mom asks. Her voice has lifted, and I can hear her shuffling in her seat. My guess is to get comfortable.
A crisp breeze washes over me and I shiver. I love this weather: cool, fresh, and calming. It’s perfect sweatshirt and sweatpants weather. For being the beginning of October, it’s ideal.
“No one, Mom.”
“He’s not no one. Tell her,” Genna says as she joins me. She shuffles her way next to me on the chaise, making me scoot over to the edge. I have a light blanket covering my lap and she snuggles right in, handing me a glass of hot chocolate with marshmallows.
“Aundrea! Who is he?” She’s practically screaming at me through the phone.
Who is Parker? A friend.
A man I slept with once.
A man I’m spending time with.
A man I enjoy spending time with.
A man who makes me laugh.
A man who makes me feel alive.
A man who makes me forget about the shit I have going on.
“He’s a guy I met. He works with Jason. We’re just hanging out. It’s no big deal.” Keep telling yourself that.
“No big deal? I wouldn’t call multiple dates no big deal.” Genna pushes.
“Multiple?”
“You had the hockey game with dinner, dinner at his house, the rock show, and various lunches.”
“The hockey scrimmage was just a friend thing. And his place wasn’t a date.”
“Right, okay. Well, you’ve gone out twice, talk every day, and see each other almost every day at the clinic.”
“Aundrea! Stop talking to your sister and talk to me.” My mom speaks into the phone.
Laughing, I apologize. I tell her a little about Parker, but make it very clear that we’re nothing more than friends. The last thing I want is to get her hopes up about me dating.
When I hang up with my mom, Genna is staring at me.
“What?”
“You.”
“What did I do?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“What?” I ask again.
“Did you tell him about your cancer?”
Your? Like I own it?
“No. There’s no reason to tell him right now. We’re just hanging out and having a good time.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Lie to yourself?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Aundrea, all I’ve wanted is to see you be happy, and I finally see it. The way you come home happy after being at the clinic all day. The laughing on the phone with him. The way you smile when Jason mentions his name. How you get excited and take forever to find something to wear when you know you’re going to see him. Whatever is going on between you and Parker, it’s a lot more than just hanging out and having a good time.”
She’s right, but I’m too scared to admit it myself.
“I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, but you should think about telling him before things turn serious.”
“Things won’t turn serious. I won’t allow that.”
“I love you, Dre. I will support you in anything you do. But sometimes things happen that are out of our control.”
I don’t add to the conversation.
Shaking my head, I make my way to my room to get ready for my date with Parker.
My third round of chemo is postponed because my white blood cells are too low. I was given a shot of Neulasta to boost the blood counts. Dr. Olson says I need to wait another week for my counts to get higher. With the drugs I’m going to be getting, I have to be above a certain level, and right now I’m walking on a thin border.
Taking a week off means my treatment will obviously be prolonged, but I look at it as another week to spend with Parker. It’s one more week I can feel good and forget what’s to come.
I’m not even out of the hospital for thirty seconds before I text him to ask when our next date will be.
Me: When can I see you again?
Mr. Handsome: When do you want to see me?
Me: Tonight?
Mr. Handsome: I have a lot of bitches to see … Dogs that is.
I roll my eyes and let out a small laugh at his horrible sense of humor.
Me: Tomorrow night?
Mr. Handsome: I can’t. Bryn, Jason and I have meetings for the fundraiser. You won’t be in tomorrow?
I could go in, but Genna asked if I wanted to go shopping with her instead. I really want a girl’s day. Knowing I won’t see him much anyway at the clinic, I make my decision.
Me: I’m going to go shopping with Genna tomorrow.
Mr. Handsome: Pick you up Friday night?
Me: Perfect!
Mr. Handsome: I’ll call you later.
Me: :)
Bryn. She’s really not that bad. She just gets under my skin. Like a parasite. She knows just how to warm up to the host and latch on. She’s being nice to me, including me in in her conversations with Shannon during lunch; I even got invited to another one of her parties coming up. But I’m not sure if she actually likes me or if she’s just keeping the enemy close.
When Friday night arrives, I decide on dark jeans, heels, a white baby doll top, and a colorful fall scarf. Considering I have no idea where I’m going, I try to look casual, yet put together.
At seven o’clock, headlights make their way up the driveway. It’s starting to get dark earlier, making it seem much later than it is.
“Hi,” I say as I greet Parker. I don’t let him make it all the way up the sidewalk before grabbing his arm and turning him back toward his car. Last I checked, Genna was upstairs doing whatever it is she does, and I’d like to keep her there.
“You going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask once we’re on the road.
“Not yet. You’ll see soon enough. It’s not that far.”
I look at the radio, noticing it’s off.
“What? No rap tonight?”
“Nah, I figured I’d let you pick the station tonight.”
“Aw, how thoughtful,” I joke, reaching forward to turn it on. I scan the XM radio.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He smiles.
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Really.”
“What if I hate it?”
“Doubtful.”
“That confident?”
“Always.”
“Cocky is more like it.”
He chuckles.
My hands are clasped together and resting in my lap, my foot is twitching, and my eyes are roaming. I’m nervous. Parker didn’t tell me what the plan was, and it freaks me out not knowing.
“Relax. I’m not taking you anywhere crazy. It’ll be fun.”
“I’m relaxed.”
“Sure you are.”
He looks down at my foot that is nervously moving back and forth. I freeze it mid-twitch, which only confirms his assumption.
“What is this place?” I ask as we pull into a parking lot by a huge white building. Lights line the parking lot and sidewalk leading into the building. There aren’t that many cars here and I’m not sure if I should be thankful or nervous.
“This,” he gestures to the building as he puts the car in park, “is Graham Arena. You said you didn’t know how to skate. I’m going to teach you.”
“You’re going to teach me?”
“Yup.” He gets out of the car, making his way to my side and opening the door for me. “Come on.” Taking my hand, he leads the way toward the big double doors.
I love walking into an ice arena: the cold air, the smell of the ice, freshly smoothed by the Zamboni, and the sounds of skates leaving their mark on the ice. The smell of the cold rink fills my lungs as I breathe in, and I can’t help but bounce on my toes with excitement. The rink is huge; it looks like a full-size hockey arena.
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