by Rye Hart
Thankfully, it was still empty. I barely made it to the trashcan before I heaved. My breakfast flew into the trash, and my head pounded mercilessly. I groaned and fell to my knees. Caleb was right, I needed my dad. I needed his support, and after our talk, I didn’t think I would ever get it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - CALEB
Dr. McGee kept us waiting for half an hour. This appointment was my final one before I could be cleared for duty. I was done sitting at home while my buddies were out every day, risking their lives, fighting fires, and saving people. I belonged with them, not on my damn couch. I couldn’t wait to get the all-clear, but after sitting in Dr. McGee’s office for twenty minutes, my patience was wearing thin.
I stood up and paced around the room. Tara was sitting in front of Dr. McGee’s desk. She was slumped in the chair, her shoulders sagging and her eyes red with exhaustion. She had another headache the day before. It knocked her on her ass and left her in bed all day. I hated how much pain she was in, but I was glad today seemed to be easier. Other than being tired, she felt fine. Or so she said. Her facial expression told me something different.
“Is it your head again?” I asked. “Or something else?”
“I feel good today,” she said. “No pain.”
She hadn’t answered my question, but I wasn’t able to push her. Dr. McGee stepped inside the office and pulled the door closed behind him. He smiled at us and moved to sit behind his desk.
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the chair I’d abandoned.
I sat down and wiped my hands on my jeans. I was nervous but mostly just excited. I knew I was kicking ass at my PT, so there wasn’t any reason for me to avoid work any longer.
“So,” Dr. McGee said. “I went over your x-rays, and after our physical exam yesterday, I’m confident that everything is healing properly.”
“That’s great,” I said eagerly. “So I can get back to work?”
“Well,” Dr. McGee said, “I don’t see why not.”
“Hell yes!” I cheered.
“But,” Dr. McGee said quickly and loudly, “I want you to continue with you PT for another month.”
My eyes flicked over to Tara. She was sitting up straight now, her eyes focused on me. She hadn’t mentioned anything about continuous physical therapy.
“Why?” I asked with a frown. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Dr. McGee said. “We just want to keep it that way.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. Something didn’t feel right. “But if I’m fine, then why is it necessary to continue?”
“Because it’ll allow me to monitor your recovery,” Tara said. Her voice was firm and authoritative, the way it always was when she slipped into PT mode. “Dr. McGee and I both want to ensure everything progresses properly. You can go back to work, but your chief will have to decide how active you are.”
“But I can work?” I asked, wanting to make sure.
“Yes,” Dr. McGee said. “You can work.”
I grinned and slapped my knee. I was beyond thrilled. I couldn’t wait to get back to the fire station. A piece of me had been missing for over a month. I was ready to get it back.
“Thank you, Dr. McGee,” I said. I stood up to shake his hand.
“It’s Tara you should thank,” Dr. McGee said. “Good physical therapists are hard to come by. We’re lucky she’s here.”
“Trust me, I know.”
I looked at Tara and smiled. She smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. We both said our goodbyes to Dr. McGee before we left the office. Tara had to get back to work, but she promised to drive me to my mom’s house before her next session. We walked to her car and slid inside.
“Hey,” I said, reaching for her hand. She turned to face me. “I want to thank you.”
“For what?” she asked.
“Dr. McGee was right,” I said. “I couldn’t have done this without you. You are the reason my recovery went so well. Without you, I honestly don’t know what I would have done this past month.”
“You would have been fine,” she said with a laugh. “You’re stronger than you think. I barely did anything.”
“It’s not just about the PT,” I said. “It’s everything. Having you back in my life has been like a dream, Tara. I never realized how much I missed you until I saw you again.”
“I missed you too,” she said softly. I smiled and kissed her, slipping my tongue easily into her mouth.
We kissed for a long time, just sitting in the parking lot and ignoring the rest of the world. Her lips were the only drug I would ever need.
When we pulled apart, though, her eyes were dark. The expression she’d worn in the office before Dr. McGee arrived was back. I frowned and looked at her, trying to read her mind. She cranked the engine and pulled out of the parking spot.
We were almost to Mom and Darren’s house when I finally asked her.
“What’s up?” I asked. “Something’s been bothering you all day.”
“My dad,” she said with a sigh. “I saw him yesterday, and well, let’s just say it didn’t go well.”
“What did he say?” I felt my stomach tighten.
“The same stuff he’s always says.” Tara shook her head. “He doesn’t want us together. He doesn’t approve. He thinks you’re bad for me. He’s trying to protect me. All that shit.”
“Did you tell him about your cancer?” I asked.
“No.” Tara laughed. “How could I? He can’t even accept that fact that I love you… I don’t want to tell him I’m sick when there’s this huge rift between us.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “He’s not being fair to you.”
“I’m used to it.” She shrugged. “Besides, it’s you who should be upset. He hates you for no reason. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“He has reasons,” I said. “They’re just ten years old.”
“It’s insane,” Tara said. “I don’t know what more I can do to change his mind. It breaks my heart because I just want him to be proud of me. I love him so much, you know? I hate how much distance there is between us, especially now that I’m sick.”
“You need him,” I said. “And he’s being a dick.”
Tara laughed. “He really is.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
Tara turned into the driveway and stopped the car. She turned to face me with a sad smile on her face. I wanted to say something that would make her feel better, but I knew only her dad could do that.
“I’ll see you later?” she asked.
I nodded and kissed her quickly. She watched me walk up the driveway and through the front door. I turned around in time to see her pulling away.
With a sigh, I hurried into the living room where I could hear my mother waiting for me. She was sitting on the couch with a magazine in her hand.
“Hey,” I said. “Good news.”
“You’re cleared?” she asked, her eyes widening with excitement.
“I can go back to work!” I grinned.
“Oh, thank God!” She squealed and ran over to hug me.
My joy couldn’t last, though. After talking to Tara, I knew there was another conversation I needed to have.
“Mom,” I said. “Is Darren here? I need to talk to him.”
“Honey, I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Mom said. “He spoke with Tara yesterday and it didn’t end well.”
“Is he here?” I asked again.
She searched my face and quickly realized I wasn’t going to give up. I couldn’t. Not when Tara’s health was on the line.
“I’ll get him,” she said, smiling sadly.
I sat on the couch and took a few deep breaths. Even after ten years of hatred, I wasn’t afraid of Darren. He did the worst thing possible when he sent me away. Now he was no longer a threat. He was just an angry man who couldn’t see past his own issues. I wasn’t afraid of what he would say, but I was concerned how it might affect Tara.
She needed her father more
than he knew.
Darren stepped into the living room. He looked at me with fire in his eyes. Already, he was angry.
“Your mother said you wanted to speak to me?” he asked, sitting down in his usual chair.
I nodded and cleared my throat. Holding his gaze was hard. There was so much anger and disgust in his eyes that I didn’t deserve.
“I wanted to talk to you about Tara,” I said slowly. Darren’s eyes flashed, and he started to stand up. “Listen. Please.”
He glared at me but slowly lowered himself back down. I sighed and cleared my throat again. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Darren,” I said. “I know you and I have had our differences in the past. When you first met my mom, I was an extremely angry kid. I did a lot of shit I shouldn’t have. I know that. When I think about the person I used to be, I can understand why you don’t want me to be with your daughter.”
I paused, but Darren didn’t respond. I wiped my hands on my jeans and kept going.
“But I’m not that kid anymore,” I said. “When you and Mom sent me to military school, I was angry. I hated you both for a long time. Then, I realized it was the right thing. You both helped me straighten up and eventually, I became a better man. My time in the army changed me more than anything else ever could. I grew up.”
Darren’s eyes were narrowed. I expected him to argue, to say something, but he didn’t. He watched me and said nothing.
“I love Tara,” I said firmly. “I’ve always loved her, and now I’m the kind of man she needs. I’m the kind of man she deserves.”
Darren scoffed and shifted in his chair.
“You don’t have to believe that,” I said quickly. “In fact, I don’t expect you to. I’m here to tell you I’m in love with your daughter. She’s the love of my life, and nothing you say or do is going to keep us apart. If you can’t accept that, you’re only going to hurt her, and I know you don’t want to do that.”
I fell silent and watched Darren. His eyes never lost their fire, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. He looked ready to throw a punch.
“Cathy,” Darren called, standing up. “Take Caleb home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - TARA
My oncologist’s office was cold and terrifying. I sat shivering in a chair, waiting for her to arrive. This appointment wasn’t an exam. I’d already had multiple tests done in the past few weeks. Now, finally, we were going to discuss my treatment plan. I was nervous but also excited. I was ready to get started. I was ready to fight this thing.
“Tara,” Dr. Young said. “Good morning.”
“Hello,” I said. I tried to smile, but my face felt tight.
“I know you’re nervous,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t blame you. This is all scary as hell.”
“It is,” I said, nodding. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here,” she said. She shuffled a few papers and then looked back up. “I think our best option is to start with Chemo. Then, if that doesn’t do what we want it to, we’ll consider surgery.”
“You don’t think surgery would be better now?” I asked.
“It would be more aggressive,” she said. “Which, isn’t always better.”
“But,” I began.
“Listen,” she said. “With this kind of cancer, we can never be sure we’re doing the right thing. We just have to start somewhere and push forward.”
I nodded. She wasn’t saying anything that calmed my nerves, but at least we were moving forward. Besides, my cancer was rare. I couldn’t blame her for being uncertain. I also appreciated the fact that she wasn’t trying to blow smoke up my ass and hype me up with false hope. I was a medical professional and I knew I needed to be realistic.
“What are the chances I’ll survive this thing?” I asked boldly. My voice was stronger, much stronger than I felt.
“We caught it early,” she said. “These headaches are the first sign, so that’s good. If the treatment is successful, then I don’t see any reason why you can’t live out your life in remission. But if it’s not, well, we can never really know for sure.”
I nodded again. I felt like there wasn’t anything left to say. My chances of survival depended entirely upon luck. If things worked, I would be okay. If they didn’t, I would die. There was no middle ground.
I listened to Dr. Young tell me the details of my treatment. She walked me through exactly how many chemotherapy sessions I would undergo and what we would do after each one. She tried to be encouraging and positive, but I knew better.
When I left her office, I was exhausted. I had the day off, so I got in my car and drove to my apartment. My mind was blank until I walked through my front door. My phone rang, jolting me back to consciousness. I pulled it out of my pocket and smiled when I saw Caleb’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hi,” I said. “I just got home.”
“How’d it go?” he asked. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there with you.”
“It was okay,” I said. “The doctor walked me through her plan.”
“Which is?” he asked.
“Chemo,” I said. “She wants me to start as soon as possible.”
“Good,” he said. “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah,” I said weakly. “Yeah, it’s good.”
Caleb paused. I could practically hear how worried he was through the phone. I sighed and sunk down on my couch, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. If I broke down, then Caleb would only feel worse.
“Come over,” he finally said. “You have the day off, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m off all day.”
“Then, come over,” he said. “I just got back from the station. I’m here for the rest of the day.”
I smiled. “Let me shower first, then I’ll head that way.”
“Hurry,” he said.
“I will.”
We said goodbye, and I took a step toward my bathroom. Before I could make it another, there was a loud knock on my door. I groaned. This day already felt endless, and it wasn’t even noon.
I walked toward the door and pulled it open, my eyes widening in shock when I saw my father standing before me. His eyes were lighter today, and his face was devoid of any anger. He looked nervous.
“What are you doing here?” I asked sharply.
“I’m here to talk to you,” he said softly. “Can I come in? Please?”
I wanted to slam the door in his face. After our last conversation, I couldn’t imagine what he possibly had to say to me. Still, he didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look upset. I sighed and stood aside, gesturing for him to come inside.
He walked quickly to the couch and sat down, tapping his foot nervously. My father was never a jittery person. He was always strong and confident. He didn’t shy away from things, and he never got scared. Seeing him shake with nerves was disconcerting. I sat down across from him and waited.
“I was wrong,” he said quickly, spitting out the words as if they hurt. “What I said about Caleb. I was wrong.”
“What?” I said. I’d waited a long time to hear him say those words, and now that he had, I couldn’t believe them.
“I’m sorry I was so angry with you,” he said. “Honey, I was just worried. Most of your life, it was you and me. You were all I had, and when Caleb came along, I saw you change.”
“You got scared,” I said.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Caleb wasn’t the best kid. I know he’s different now. As much as I hate to admit it, I can see how much he’s changed.”
“He has,” I said.
“I want the best for you,” Dad said. “I don’t always show it in the right way, but that’s all I want. All I want is for you to be safe and happy, Tara. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Caleb makes me happy,” I said. I smiled. “He’s the best person for me, Dad. There isn’t anyone better.”
Dad sighed and finally relaxed. He sunk into the couch and
smiled weakly. I could tell it took a lot of strength for him to come over and see me.
“I’ll stay out of your way,” he said. “It won’t be easy for me, but I’ll adjust. If Caleb is who you want, then I’ll butt out. I promise.”
“Thank you, Dad,” I said. I laughed lightly, relieved. “Thank you for coming here.”
“It was time,” he said. “I couldn’t let things get any worse between us.”
I smiled again, but as I looked at him, my stomach dropped. For a second, I’d forgotten all about my illness. I was so happy that my father was finally apologizing and accepting my decision that everything else disappeared.
I didn’t want to tell my dad about the cancer while he was angry with me. Now I didn’t have any more excuses. I stared at his face. He was smiling for the first time in weeks. He looked okay again. Happy. And, I was about to destroy that.
“Dad,” I said slowly. “Now that we’re okay, there’s something you should know.”
“What is it?” he asked. The smile slipped off his face. He searched my eyes, and I looked away quickly. I studied my hands and took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.
“I got my headaches checked out,” I said. “You were right, they weren’t normal.”
“What did they say?” he asked, sitting forward on the couch.
“At first, they weren’t sure,” I said. My voice was soft. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get through this. “Then, after discussing things with an oncologist, they realized what was wrong.”
“Oncologist?” My dad clung onto that word like only a doctor could. I watched fear settle in his eyes.
“I was diagnosed with brain cancer,” I said, articulating each word carefully. “It’s rare. They almost didn’t catch it, but they did. That’s what’s been causing my headaches. That’s why I’ve been so sick.”
My dad sprung off the couch and hurried over to me. He pulled me into his arms and held me against his chest. His reaction was unlike Caleb’s or Cathy’s. He didn’t waste time with words. He just held me, silently rocking me back and forth until we were both crying.
