by C. B. Stagg
That was bad.
Dr. May continued the summation. “We manually felt the rest of your organs, checking for any spread. That’s why your surgery was so much more time-consuming and why you may feel sore.” Ha! Sore? Is that what we’re calling it? ”But there is some good news. While we did find a small mass on your left ovary, we didn’t find anything else.”
Wait. Left? She made it sound like I’d just won the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. “Is there more?” I hated to be rude, but focusing was difficult, and I had a call to make. When I’d texted Casey, I promised to call him today. He was probably sick with worry.
Dr. Kim stepped to the end of my bed. She grabbed my foot through the blanket as if grounding me. “Vaughn, most of your tumor was what we call a borderline tumor, which is actually excellent news. Catching ovarian cancer in the early stages can mean the difference between life and death.”
I put my hand in the air. “Most of the tumor? Cancer?” An eerie calm washed over me like a whisper, making my blood run cold. “What is my exact diagnosis?”
“The diagnosis is stage 1, grade 1-C ovarian cancer.” I felt Dr. Kim’s grip on my toes tighten as she said the words. Mr. Preston appeared at my side, holding my hand between his. He was shaking.
“Is that all?” I am so over this conversation.
“The surgical team had to remove more than we’d planned. We, of course, removed both tumors. But that also resulted in removing your right ovary and fallopian tube.”
No…
“We were able to save your left ovary, but weighing the options and looking at the statistics… ”
Please, no…
“We felt it was in your best interest if we removed your left fallopian tube… and your uterus as well.”
20-Casey
I HEARD HER, BUT I COULDN’T FIND HER.
Her screams pierced the darkness as thunder cracked and veins of lightning slithered down from the sky. “Casey! Please!”
Her begging was so close. I ran through the field screaming her name, willing her to appear. But no matter how far or how fast I ran, I never got any closer.
“Vaughn! Where are you? I’m here, I’m here! I’m trying to find you!”
The frozen rain was coming faster, harder, slicing through the wind creating a curtain of streaming water. The land was quickly becoming slick with ice and mud, but I searched, screaming her name until my voice was gone, my energy spent. I fell to my knees and then tried crawling, feeling through the cold, wet grass for any trace of Vaughn.
Her cries continued to come from all directions, echoing through the night. I had no idea where we were, no idea how we’d gotten there, but I didn’t care. I had a singular focus, and that was to find Vaughn.
Hitting the ground startled me from sleep. The thunder and lightning outside my window brought my nightmare crashing back into my mind, bringing with it a fresh sense of panic. I immediately checked my phone.
Nothing.
I got dressed and ran straight to her apartment. The storm had canceled soccer for the day, and I decided then and there that I wouldn’t rest until Vaughn was safe in my arms.
A search of her place didn’t provide much information. The only item of interest was something written on the calendar hanging on the fridge: 1:30, Suarez. It looked to be quickly jotted in the square under yesterday’s date. By digging through her desk drawer and finding some insurance paperwork, I found out that Suarez was her doctor. I called and spoke with the on-call nurse, but she wouldn’t give me any information.
The next call I made was to Becky. Voicemail. Of course.
“Hey, Bec, I need you to give me a call as soon as possible. Vaughn didn’t come home last night, and I’m kind of panicking over here. Call me back. Bye.” I tried Jase too, but I got his voicemail as well.
The rest of Saturday morning was spent on the phone with the police. I’d called the non-emergency line of the police department, explaining my situation, with no luck. Over and over again, I was advised that—due to the nature of our relationship and the fact that she’d sent me a text stating she was headed out of town—there were no grounds to file a missing person’s report.
All day, my emotions teetered between worry and anger. Minutes passed like hours. Hours passed like days. What happened? She got scared. Cold feet, maybe? It was understandable. She’d never been in a relationship before; it was natural to be nervous.
These were the things I told myself on a loop as morning turned to afternoon and afternoon crept to night. Still, I had hope. I truly believed she’d be in my arms before I went to sleep. She had to be.
Late Saturday night, Becky called me back. Finally.
“Hey.” The gravel in my voice made it sound like I’d been asleep. Maybe I had been. “Have you heard from her?” I sat up on the couch where I’d just been lying and scrubbed my face with my hand, trying to get the fog out of my brain and my eyes.
“No, baby. I’ve called several times, left voicemails, texted her, and nothing. Casey, what’s going on?”
I explained the mystery text to her, but she stopped me. “We’ll get to that in a minute. What I want to know is, what exactly is going on with you two? Obviously, I know y’all have been spending time together, and I saw the way you looked at her during dinner the other night. But this crazed maniac thing you got goin’ on here is on a whole other level.” The line went silent while I searched my brain for something to say.
“Tell me, is this a coach upset because his assistant didn’t show up for practice or a game? Is this a friend concerned for another friend? Or is this a man who’s lost something he loves dearly and can’t live without?” She waited again, while I searched for a response. Again.
“I think it’s me, worried about a girl I didn’t realize I’d worry about so much. Does that make sense?” It made sense to me as I stood and started pacing the room with the phone in my hand.
“Hmm, so what you’re telling me is that you love her dearly and you’ve suddenly realized you can’t live without her? Is that what I hear you saying?”
I sighed into the phone. “Yes, I think that’s what I’m saying.”
“Okay,” she sighed. “I had a feeling that was happening. Vaughn looks all rosy-cheeked on campus, and she’s seemed to ease up on that whole ‘scared of the world’ mess she’s had going on forever.” Becky’s unique observations always did make me smile.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t come right out and tell you,” I sat back down, “but I didn’t know how you’d feel since Vaughn and I started out as co-coaches. I was supposed to teach her, not fall in love with her.” Tears sprang to my eyes, thinking about her that first day and how so very different she was now. And to think, I had a hand in that. God, I missed her. “I never meant for that to happen.”
Then Bec started to laugh. “Really? You didn’t mean for that to happen? Of course you didn’t!” She calmed down a little. “I guess it’s a good thing I did.”
“It’s a good thing you did what, exactly?” My tone was crisp, and I knew anyone else might take me for an ass, but it was my way, and Becky was used to it.
“It’s a good thing I meant for you to fall in love. When are you gonna realize that, when it comes to you boys, I know what’s best?” She giggled.
“You boys? So that means you’re playing Cupid for Jase, too?” Our mutual best friend hadn’t had a date in months, maybe even years. I wasn’t sure he actually ever dated at all, but occasionally he’d give me vague details about dinner or a movie he may have seen. I guess I just always assumed it was with a date.
“You just let me worry about him, okay? Now, let’s get back in the Mystery Machine, Shaggy. We need to find us a girl.”
Damn, I’d appreciated the last few minutes of joking around with her, but we’d made it back around to the real reason I’d called and left her the message.
“The police won’t help, not yet anyway. Do you think you could… ” I hesitated. “Look, you have access to her
school file, don’t you?”
She got quiet. “Yeah, but Casey, that’s illegal. You aren’t her next of kin. I could lose my job.” Her delivery was monotone, almost as if she was weighing other options as she spoke.
“Well, what about her Mr. Preston? Can you give me his number? He deserves to know she’s missing. He’s like a dad to her.” I held my breath. Becky was really my only hope.
“Case, you know I can’t give you information from her personal file.” And I deflated, just like a balloon. “But I can call him. Let me call him as a concerned professor. Seems legit, right?”
My head nodded vigorously, as if there was anyone around to see me. “Sounds reasonable to me.”
“I’m tired. I’m going to bed. I’ll call him in the morning and then call you as soon as I know something. You hang in there. We’ll get your girl back. I’ve waited three years to see you two together. There’s still a lot of your story left unwritten.” She yawned again. “Lots of blank pages to fill.”
“I love you, Bec. Thanks for being you.” We ended the call, and I thought about her words. She was right, there was a lot left unwritten, but I couldn’t start writing until I got my girl back.
By Sunday night I was in full-on panic mode. Becky had been trying the two numbers she had for Mr. Preston all day long with no luck. She’d left several messages and even texted him a few times, not knowing if he knew how to communicate in that capacity.
I knew Vaughn. She wouldn’t leave me—not by choice. There were no answers, though, or at least none that I could find. I spent the day in my head, almost to the point of madness. By nightfall, I was convinced it had all been a bad dream. I expected to wake up and start my week with a call or text from Vaughn, telling me to have a great day. I was rejecting my reality.
My phone rang right before my alarm went off Monday morning. I let it ring a few times while I prayed to God it was Vaughn. But it was Becky. “Hey, sorry to call so early, but… ” Her hesitation made me sit straight up in bed.
“But what? What do you know?” Despite the silence, or maybe because of it, I could hear my heart beating in my ears.
“George Preston called me back this morning. It was the strangest conversation. I let him know who I was and asked if he remembered Vaughn talking about me, and he said yes. Then I asked him if he happened to know where she was, and he said… yes.”
“Where? Where is she? Is she okay?” I’d already gotten one leg in my jeans, and I was tripping over myself to get them fully on so I could go get her.
“Well, that’s the thing… ”
I stopped mid-hop, waiting to hear what was coming next.
“He said that Vaughn had a situation come up that would keep her out of town for the foreseeable future.“
“What the hell does that even mean?” My head was swimming.
“Technically, he is her attorney and he made it clear that while he’d really, REALLY like to tell me what’s going on, he didn’t have her permission. So if he shared anything he’d be breaking the law.” An elephant was sitting on my chest. I struggled to breathe as I listened to her continue to talk.
“He was able to tell me that she is in a safe place and there is no need to worry about her safety. He said she’s being very well taken care of, but… there’s something else.” No, I can’t handle anything else.
“Mr. Preston filed for a leave of absence on behalf of Vaughn Jennings. He asked that she be withdrawn from all her classes effective immediately, with the ability to be reinstated either in the spring of 2012 or, if more time is needed, the fall of 2012.” I couldn’t even comprehend what she was saying at this point. I started pacing.
This can’t be real. School was everything to Vaughn. I thought I was too.
"Did you ask him why? He must have given you some sort of explanation.” I was panicking. My lungs were folding in on themselves. I doubled over, unable to stand up straight.
"I had no right to ask him why, Casey. Student records are confidential, and if what I did wasn’t illegal, I’m pretty sure reporting our entire conversation back to you is. I really shouldn’t have even called him in the first place.”
Withdraw from school? Not coming back until the spring, maybe even fall? Nothing made any sense.
“How did you leave it?” I didn’t recognize my own voice.
“Well, I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to say. So I told him that she has lots of people in College Station that care about her and want her back as soon as possible. He assured me he is doing everything in his power to get her back here. I got the impression that whatever is going on, it’s out of their control. Then I ended the call and spent the next thirty minutes trying to figure out how I was going to tell you all of this.” She spoke to me like a wounded animal. Slow and even-toned.
“So, she’s gone. She left me.” I was saying it more to myself than to Becky. I needed to hear it out loud.
“Casey, stop.” Even her scariest tone couldn’t affect me now. “That’s not what I said. I—”
“You didn’t have to. The silence between your words told me all I needed to know.”
21-Vaughn
I WAS A COWARD.
Sunday turned into Monday, which then turned into Tuesday, then Wednesday, and so the days went on. I never asked for my phone, not once, nor did I use the one in my room. Why would I? The thought of facing Casey and having to explain my new reality scared me more than the cancer itself. I couldn’t do it. He needed to move on without me.
I’d spent most of the weekend in a drug-induced stupor and Monday wasn’t much better. I’d chosen to be knocked out by painkillers, rather than feel the searing hurt that held me in a vise grip. My incisions were uncomfortable, but so many nerves had been cut, I could barely feel where I’d been sliced open. It wasn’t the physical pain I was chasing away with morphine and Ambien, though. It was the heartache of a life without Casey that gutted me, leaving me a hollow shell. I’d become the negative image of the woman I was in the days when I held his heart in my hands, and he held my future in his.
Tread lightly. Thoughts like those could easily lead me down a rabbit hole I wasn’t prepared to travel, with its labyrinth of pain, guilt, and despair. I hadn’t yet acquired the mental tools to find my way out of the mess in my head.
While I could technically be medically discharged at any point, Mr. Preston suggested it might be best that I remain in-patient for the immediate future after learning how I was handling treatment. I’d started my chemotherapy, one of three cycles of Paclitaxel and Carboplatin, and my body was putting up one hell of a fight. I felt like the side effects of these particular drugs had met ahead of time and come up with a strategic plan of attack. They were relentless, and I was not strong enough to fight this. At least not alone.
Not wanting to go back to College Station and face the people I’d abandoned without a word, I agreed to stay checked in for the remainder of my chemo cycles. Casey and Becky were the only ones that were close enough to ask for help if I’d chosen to do chemo in College Station, and even then, I didn’t want to be their problem. From what I’d been told, things were going to get a whole lot worse, before they got better. Three cycles of chemo amounted to roughly forty days. I was Noah, only I wasn’t on an ark full of animals, I was in a hospital full of depression and death. It wasn’t forty days and forty nights of rain that held me captive, it was the poison surging through my veins, trying to save my life.
Though I wasn’t convinced it was a life worth saving anymore.
I never did contact Casey. In the beginning, it was purely by accident. I’d been so sick, drifting in and out, but always drugged on some level. Then, once Dr. Kim told me about the emergency hysterectomy, I saw my accidental avoidance as the blessing that it was. The Vaughn that Casey fell in love with over the last few months was a complete and whole woman. A woman who had the ability and desire to make his every wish come true. Dr. Kim mentioned that, had we found this at stage 4, I’d probably be dead. Late at nig
ht when I was all alone, and I allowed the darkness to take over, I sometimes wished I’d waited.
Because I wasn’t that woman anymore.
That woman no longer existed and she never would again.
My days in the hospital dragged on and on. I had good days, and not so good days, which translated into terrible, please-kill-me-and-put-me-out-of-my-misery days. There were also days where, physically, I was doing all right. Those days were actually worse. Without the severe, violent vomiting, swelling, itchiness, and all the other pleasantries that accompanied chemo to serve as distractions; my thoughts often traveled to the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind, just to make mischief.
I’d had several good days, where I only spent half of my waking hours thinking about Casey and wondering what he was up to. I knew the soccer season had ended, but I had no idea how we’d fared in the tournament. I’m sure he was busy with his crews, winterizing the fields and other facilities, preparing for those ten days of actual winter we usually saw. But what was he doing when he wasn’t at work? Did he still think about me?
On the bad days, though, I was inconsolable, dejected. I threw myself some of the best pity parties. The guest of honor was always the ghost of Casey Clark, and for entertainment, we’d watch the future that never would be play out in front of our eyes. It was an IMAX experience for the mentally deranged.
Dr. Kim stopped by on one such occasion. That day, in addition to mentally composing and decomposing my fictitious wedding to Casey (something I did when I was feeling particularly sadistic), I discovered that I’d be ending the day with significantly less hair than when I’d started.
She was just popping her head in to say goodbye when she noticed my free-flowing tears and hands full of dull, lifeless hair scattered about my bed like leaves in fall.
