Cruel & Beautiful

by A. M. Hargrove

  The vibration in my pocket has me digging out my phone. It’s Jenna.

  “Hey,” I gulp.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just a small meltdown. He’s sleeping and I haven’t even woken him up.”

  “Why the tears then?”

  “Because I looked at him lying there and …” I’m a hopeless, sobbing mess all over again.

  “Shh, it’s okay,” she coos. “It’s going to be fine, Cate.”

  In a shaky whisper, I say, “I don’t think it is, Jenna.”

  “Cate, get a grip. You have a ton at stake here, particularly that guy inside. Get your shit together.”

  I sniff loudly and rub my eyes with my fist. “You’re right. You’re right.”

  “He needs your happy face, not some weepy-assed woman in his life right now.”

  “I know. I only do this around you.”

  “You can cry on my shoulder any day of the week, but if you ever do this in front of him, I will personally kick your ass all the way back to Charleston.”

  I rub my face again. “Okay. You can. I may even help you.”

  “Now go inside and crawl in bed with that man.”

  “But he needs to sleep.”

  “Listen to me you dork. He needs you! He needs you to hold him so get in that bed and wrap your arms around him and hug your body close to him. Oh, and stop in the bathroom first to make sure you don’t have raccoon eyes and skanky breath.”

  That makes me laugh, and I actually snort. “Okay, boss.”

  “Now ‘git’.”

  Sneaking in the bathroom, I fix my eyes, removing all signs of the raccoon and then brush my teeth.

  Back in the bedroom, I don’t allow myself to have any morbid, weepy thoughts. I undress and slide under the covers, then wind myself around Drew.

  He lifts his head and smiles. “Hey, babe. You’re the best thing I’ve seen in ages. God, you feel good.” His arm hugs me tightly to him and holds my head to his chest.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Just wiped out. Otherwise, okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. They gave me all kinds of stuff to counteract the side effects and so far so good, other than the damn exhaustion.”

  “Then sleep. I’m here and will get you anything and everything you need.”

  “The only thing I need is you.” He kisses the top of my head. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you more.”

  “Your classes?” He’s always so worried about me, and how I’m dealing with all of this.

  “My professors are awesome. I’m good.”

  “Hmm. Good to hear.”

  “Sleep, babe. I’m right here with you, if you need me.”

  “Love you.”

  “Right back to you.” I press my lips to his chest.

  I didn’t think I was tired, but being in Drew’s arms, close to him, must have made me relax enough to fall asleep. When I wake up, it’s pitch black in the room. He’s still out, so I scoot out of bed and I’m shocked to see it’s after ten. I need to fix something to eat because my stomach just let out a huge growl, like Tony the Tiger. Then I chuckle to myself, thinking that’s probably what I’ll end up having to eat—Frosted Flakes. I doubt Drew has shopped for groceries with everything going on. But I get a big surprise when I open the refrigerator. It’s stocked full of things. So I grin and go to work.

  Chicken and dumplings is on the menu, along with homemade chicken noodle soup. Those are two things I can cook and cook well. My mother taught me how to make them when I was young, and they are two of my specialties. Jenna always begs me for them, and Drew loves them, too. I’m just about finished with both when he makes an appearance in the kitchen.

  And did I ever fuck up. He looks green. And then it smacks me in the face. The odor!

  “Oh, shit!” I turn on the exhaust fan and light a couple of candles, but the damage is already done. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I was hungry and figured they would be a great treat for you.”

  He has my favorite faded jeans on and a t-shirt and he says, “I’m just going to go and sit in my car for a minute.”

  Now I totally feel like a douche. “Oh, no. I’ll open a window. The smell should be gone really fast.”

  “It’s okay. I just need some air.”

  I fist my hands in my hair. How in the fuck could I have been so damn stupid? The man just gets massive chemo, he’s bordering on nausea, and I’m in here cooking up a storm. What a dumbnut!

  My first mission is to air the place out, so I open a couple of windows and burn some more candles. Luckily, everything I’ve cooked is done. I turn it all off and run outside to check on Drew.

  He sits in his car with his head leaning back against the seat.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just sweating. I got so nauseated, I was pouring the stuff.”

  “Jeez. Nice to know your fiancée is a moron, huh?”

  He laughs a little. “It’s all in the learning curve, babe.”

  “Thanks for not being pissed off.”

  “As if I could ever be that at you.”

  “You never do get mad at me. Why is that?”

  His head is still back and his eyes are closed. He shrugs and says, “What purpose would that serve? Anger only breeds anger. I get pissed at you, then you get pissed back at me, and it turns into a vicious cycle. It’s just better if I analyze my feelings and deal with them.”

  I’m standing right outside his car, talking to him through his window. I lean down against the frame as I think about what he says. It makes so much sense, but most of us react before we process what’s happening. We don’t stop and listen to what the other person is saying. “How the hell did you get to be so smart and intuitive?”

  “I’m not. I’m just a thinker.”

  “I’m glad I fell in love with a thinker, then. And since you fell in love with a stinker, I’m going to check to see if the apartment still smells.”

  I see his body shake as he chuckles. “Cate, kiss me first.”

  Leaning in, I press my lips to his, then I run inside.

  The smell leaves and Drew returns. It’s good to see green man is gone.

  “I think I’m gonna be one of those people who gets affected by smells. Some people are fine with it, but I can already tell I’m not gonna be one of those.”

  Putting my hands on his shoulders, I say, “If that’s one of your side effects, I promise not to cook on your worst days.”

  “The weird thing is though, I feel like I could eat something.”

  “I made chicken soup and chicken and dumplings. Want to try some?”

  He nods. “Maybe a little bowl of the soup.”

  I ladle up a little bit and he takes a few spoonfuls. “This is good, but my appetite isn’t in full swing yet. I’ve always heard how quirky chemo makes you. I’m starting to get that now.”

  “I’m just happy as hell you were able to take a few bites. Why don’t you go and take a shower and I’ll fix you a glass of ice water.”

  He gets off his chair and wraps me in a hug as I’m clearing his bowl. “You’re the best. Thanks.”

  The next morning, Drew wakes up and shakes me.

  “What is it?” I ask, flying out of the bed.

  He lies there, laughing at me. “Damn, you’re jumpy.”

  “You scared me!”

  “I need a favor.”

  “You woke me up out of the deepest sleep ever, to ask me for a favor?”

  “Yeah.” He has his old boyish grin back and the sparkle in his crystalline blues has returned.

  “You know I’ll do anything for you. What is it?”

  “I want you to shave my head today.”

  “Huh? Shave your head?”

  Without any sadness, remorse, or regret, he says, “Uh huh. This mop of mine is going to start falling out in clumps and I don’t want the mess all over the house. I decided I want to shave it off to save myself the trouble. I have one of th
ose barber clippers from when I used to wear my hair almost shaved. So, will you do it?”

  “You trust me that much?”

  He busts out in a knee-slapping laugh. “Seriously, Cate. I’m asking you to shave it all off. How can you possibly fuck it up?”

  “You’re talking to the person who tried, unsuccessfully I might add, to wax Louise. Remember?”

  “How can I forget? But I’m not asking you to wax my head. I wouldn’t dare do that.”

  We both are in fits of laughter now. Finally I say that I’ll do it, as long as he doesn’t hold any fuck ups against me. So, later that day, I watch all of Drew’s gorgeous hair fall off as I work the barber’s clippers over it. And when I’m done, I can’t believe how damn sexy the man looks bald.

  “You are the only man who looks as good without hair as you do with it.”

  “Aww, you’re just saying that.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Get over here, Cate.”

  I climb on his hairy lap and give him a smooch. “I hope you don’t usually ask your barber to do this.”

  “My barber’s name isn’t Cate. It’s George. And no, I don’t. But he wouldn’t mind, because he’s gay.”

  By Sunday, Drew is back to feeling pretty good. I hate to leave, but I have to get back to Purdue.

  “I’m fine,” he insists. “Go. You have a shit ton of stuff to do. And don’t try to fool me.”

  I wrap my arms around him, hating to let him go. “I’ll call as soon as I get back.”

  “And I promise to call if I need you.”

  He repeats his treatments every Thursday for a total of three and then gets two weeks off. At the end of the first round, I’m at his place on a Saturday. He’s watching TV and I’m writing, and I happen to glance at him. His cheeks are as pink and flushed, almost sunburned looking.

  Crossing the room, I touch his forehead with the back of my hand and he feels terribly warm. He has a thermometer in the bathroom, so I go get it. A half hour later, we’re headed to the hospital. One of the problems with chemo is it kills your white blood count and makes you very susceptible to infections. Chemo patients must be very cautious and if they spike a fever, they need to be admitted to the hospital. That’s where Drew ends up. He has what’s known as an FUO—a fever of unknown origin. And it can be life threatening. His temperature was one hundred three when I took it. I’m freaking, but don’t want him to know it.

  As soon as we get to the hospital, they put him on a gurney and wheel him into one of those tiny cubicles. A nurse comes in and attaches an IV line to the port they put in prior to his chemo—it’s a direct line into his bloodstream that’s attached to his chest. This way they never have to stick an IV into his vein. Then she draws several tubes of blood and says a doctor will be in.

  An hour later, his oncologist cruises in, smiling.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Hot,” Drew says.

  “Yeah, we’re doing blood cultures now, but you know how long those take. You’ll be out of here before they grow anything. I’m starting you on the big gun antibiotics prophylactically. Sorry man, but you’re in for the duration. We’re gonna add some stuff to your regimen to prevent this, too. You’ll get a room in about an hour. You need anything?”

  “Can you cover my rotation for me?”

  His doctor laughs. “I’ll get your attending in here. We’ve got you, man.” Then he turns to me and says, “No kissing and wash the hell out of your hands. I would prefer if you wear a mask and gloves around him, Cate. He’s in a risky situation right now.” He walks to cart, grabs a box of masks and gloves, and hands them to me.

  “I understand.” Then he’s gone.

  Before I get the chance to speak, Drew says, “Go home, babe. I’m so sleepy. I’m probably gonna nap all afternoon. This fever takes it out of me. You’ll be able to get your work done.”

  “Maybe so. I can bring you back something to eat.”

  “No, I meant go home home. I’m in for the week. I feel wasted. You have so much work and I know you’re blowing smoke up my ass when you say things are fine. Just go home and get your shit done. Come back Friday and I’ll be ready to go home. I promise.”

  “Drew! I can’t leave.”

  “Cate, come here.” He pats the bed so I sit. “Realistically, what can you do? And give me an honest answer.”

  He’s right. I can’t do anything for him that he can’t do himself.

  “See. I can hold my own dick to pee,” he says, winking at me, “but if I really needed help with that, I would tell you.”

  I can’t help the bubbly giggle that spurts out of my lips.

  “And my hands would be happy to hold your dick.”

  “Oh, don’t I know it. Go, babe. Go pack up and call me when you get home. I’ll text you every time I wake up, but I’ll try not to bother you. I love you more than hockey, but you have shit to do.”

  Guilt gushes into me. I want to stay with him, but he is so right. I have so much crap hanging over me right now, and this time away from him would help.

  “I can see it in your eyes. You need to go. I couldn’t be in a better place. Go and drive safely. Call when you get home.”

  I kiss the top of his beautiful bald head.

  “Cate, don’t forget, bald is beautiful.”

  “It sure is on you. Love you.” I give him a wave as I leave and my heart squeezes as he waves back. His crimson cheeks starkly contrast the purple crescents under his eyes. He really is feverish.

  The trip home is miserable. I alternate between crying, laughing, and screaming my anger out in the car. Jenna waits for me when I walk in the door.

  “He’s right and get over yourself. You need to be here and you can’t do a damn thing for him, as he lays in the bed sleeping.”

  “Jenna, what if the infection kills him? His doctor wanted me to wear a mask around him.”

  “Precautionary. Stop this. What happened to my no nonsense, solid thinking friend?”

  “What happened to her? I’ll tell you what happened to her! Her fiancé got this fucking disease called cancer and it’s ravaging his body! That’s what happened to her!” I’m screaming at the top of my lungs and I want to break something. “And don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.” Jenna doesn’t skip a beat as she walks to the cabinet, pulls out a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses, and pours. Then she hands me one. “Drink.”

  “What?”

  “Drink, goddammit. You’re on the verge of freaking out on me. You need a fucking drink. Down it, now.”

  Grabbing the glass out of her hand, I swallow it. Then she hands me the other one. “One more.”

  After I drink that one, she walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of wine. After pouring two glasses, she hands me one and says, “Sit your ass down.”

  So I do.

  “How long do you think you can do this?”

  “As long as it takes. I’ll do anything for him, Jenna.”

  She shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant. You need help. With him. You’re driving back and forth like you’re the only one in the world who can help him. You have an unbelievable class load this semester. He has a mother, you know.”

  “Oh, I don’t think …”

  “Fuck you and your not thinking. Reach out to Letty. She’s probably trying to stay out of your hair. And here you are killing yourself.”

  “You think?”

  “I know. And Drew would never ask anyone for anything. Call her. She needs to know he’s in the hospital.”

  I make the call and Letty arranges a flight for the morning. I don’t care if Drew is angry or not. The relief in her voice was worth it. Ray and I talk, too. He’s comfortable with what they’re doing, but sad Drew didn’t call. I tell them how wiped out he was and blamed it on that. It satisfies him so he says he will give Drew a call later.

  Jenna is all smiles. “Feel better?”

  “I do. Thanks.”
<
br />   “You have to start delegating. This will be good experience for you when you get into your career. If you can’t delegate, you’re fucked up a tree, girl. You cannot possibly do it all. I know you’re super awesome and all, but hey, you’re not Wonder Woman.”

  “I’m not?” I ask with a straight face.

  “Nah. I am.”

  I throw a pillow at her and then pounce on her.

  “What the actual fuck would I do without you? You are keeping me in line here. Keeping my shit together.”

  “That’s what maids of honor are for.”

  DREW HANDLES THE REST OF his chemo fairly well, with only a few little bumps. One more fever scare but it’s only a low grade one where they initiate antibiotics at home and delay his next treatment a week. He loses a bit of weight, but not too much. What I hate the most for him is that his strength declines so hockey is no longer an option. Besides, he needs to work as much as he can, so his extracurricular activities are cut to almost none. His coworkers have been unbelievable in their support. They have picked up extra hours to give him time off when he needs it and the outpouring of support he’s received humbles Drew.

  His mom makes frequent trips during his treatment while I’m at school and goes home for the weekends when I visit. We’ve worked out a great schedule between us and even Drew is good with it. He likes having her there to cook for him because he’s so wiped out if he works at all and too tired to do it himself. I’m happy knowing at least he’s getting good meals and someone is watching after him.

  At the end of February, they do a follow up bone scan and another PET scan. The news is good! The tumor has shrunk down to almost nothing, so the second week in March, they do the surgical excision. It’s a rough one. They remove seven inches of his seventh rib. No one has prepared me for the chest tube and the other tubes he has coming out of him. I never was bothered much by the sight of blood, but this takes it to an entirely different level.

  The nurses all hover over him, and why wouldn’t they? He’s one of their own. But damn, he looks awful. When I see him, I run to his mom and break down and cry. He’s so out of it, he doesn’t even notice I’m there.