by Freya Barker
"Freddy, it's Ruby Heikal..." The moment I hear my doctor's voice, the bottom falls out of my stomach, a roaring fills my ears and I have to sit back down. "...make that time, call the office."
Fuck. I missed half of it. Resisting the temptation to hit seven for delete by rote, I replay the message from the top.
"Freddy, it's Ruby Heikal. I was wondering if you'd be able to come in this afternoon at three. If you can't make that time, call the office."
Newt
I almost hang up the goddamn phone on that asswipe.
Only reason I don't is because I heard him mention Freddy's name.
"What was that about Freddy?"
"I said, I just dropped her back at the office. There was an incident at the clinic this morning. In the parking lot."
"Incident? What kind of incident?"
"She was accosted in the parking lot."
"Jesus fucking Christ, man. This is like pulling goddamn teeth, will you spit it out?"
"Fuck you, Newt. I'm trying to give you a heads-up here. She got hurt when my wife assaulted her. She has a gash on her cheek, got a few stitches in the hospital, and—"
"Do I want to know why your wife went after Freddy?" I growl, interrupting him. I can hear him sigh deeply before he answers.
"Man, Newt...I just...I served Ella first thing this morning, and there was a verbal exchange."
"A verbal exchange that somehow leads to Freddy being assaulted in front of her own goddamn office?"
"It was about Jordan. About making sure Jordan would get the care he deserves, and I may have mentioned Freddy's name in there."
I close my eyes and bend over with my hand on my knee for balance, trying to get a hold of the rage I feel.
"Do me a favour," I suggest as calmly as I can. "For the next while, stay out of my way. I know shit hasn't been easy for you in recent days, but I just got a load of the unbelievable shit you put that woman through years ago, and fuck if you don't drag her into it again. I see you, I can't guarantee I won't lay you out."
With that, I end the call and dial Freddy, who is not answering. Almost feeling the smoke coming from my ears, I lay down the phone and stick my head under the cold tap in the sink.
"You okay, Dad?" Millie asks, as she walks into the kitchen.
"I'm fine. Hot." I turn off the tap and grab a kitchen towel to dry my hair. "Listen, I need to run into town for a bit, do you wanna see if you can hang out with Jenna awhile? You guys can come get the paddleboat, if you like."
"Yeah," she says easily, "I was going to head over there at some point anyway. We're watching Princess Bride this afternoon."
"You know that's an old movie, right? I mean, I can remember it coming out when I was young. Great movie though."
"That's what Jenna said. She's seen it a million times already and she says it's the best. Is it okay if I take Bella?"
"As you wish."
She looks at me funny then turns around to grab the dog's leash.
I'm sure she'll get the reference soon enough
-
It's almost quarter past two by the time I get to the clinic. Freddy's Matrix isn't in its regular spot in the parking lot.
Jess looks up when I walk in.
"Mr. Tobias. I wasn't aware you had an appointment today?"
"Newt, please, and I don't. I wanted to check up on Freddy. Jim Baldwin called me, said there'd been an incident and Freddy got hurt. I gather from her empty parking spot she's not here. Did she go home?"
"Ah, I see." The woman regards me with a tilt of her head, probably contemplating whether to give me an answer or not. "You know, I generally can't give out personal information ab—"
"But this is personal. Freddy and I are dating. Please? She's not answering her phone."
"Oh, very well. She's at the seniors' home. She regularly takes Boulder there for the patients. I believe she mentioned something about not coming back to the office because she had another appointment after, but you may still be able to catch her at Serenity on Tudhope."
I have no idea where either Serenity or Tudhope is, but the GPS in my Jeep does.
As luck would have it, I spot both Freddy and Boulder, just as I pull into the parking lot. As she puts Boulder in the back of her car, I drive up behind her, effectively blocking her in.
"Newt?" Her obvious surprise, and lack of guilt, tells me she didn't intentionally fail to call me. The head of steam I'd slowly built up on the drive into town, just as quickly dissipates as I take in the state of her face. The bandage is stark white against the discoloration of her skin, and her left eye is puffy and weeping.
"Christ," I hiss out, as I get out from behind the wheel and wrap her in my arms. "What the hell, Freddy?"
The moment I let her go, her hand comes up to touch the bandage.
"This? It's nothing. Chester stepping on my toes, now that was a doozy," she jokes, still clueless.
"You get hurt and you don't let me know? I had to hear from Jim what happened." She winces at my words.
"I'm sorry. It didn't seem like a big deal? I guess I should've." Her hand comes up to rest against my cheek and I lean into it. "It all went so fast, and then when I got back to the office, I barely had time to listen to Dr. Heikal's message, grab Boulder, and come here. I'm sorry," she says again, but I've locked into one snippet of information.
"Your doctor called? Any news?" She shakes her head.
"I'm heading there now, but I first have to drop Boulder off at the office."
"I'll follow you."
"Why?"
I'm about to get back to the Jeep and turn to face her. Again, genuine puzzlement on her face.
"I know you're used to going it alone, honey, but you don't need to. Not if I can help it. I'm coming with and I'm holding your hand when you get those damn results."
-
She ended up leaving her car at the clinic and hopped in the Jeep.
Not much is said, other than Freddy giving me directions.
I hold her hand in the car and all the way from the parking lot into the doctor's office. Dr. Heikal is about my age, with a gentle Middle Eastern accent, and an obvious fondness for her patient. I let go of her hand briefly to shake Dr. Heikal's when Freddy makes introductions.
"Sit. I'm going to barge right in, since I know you don't like beating around the bush," she says to Freddy. "Good news is: this is not a metastasis of your cervical cancer. Bad news is: you have stage zero bladder cancer, which means the tumour did not have a chance to grow into the connective tissues or the underlying muscle."
I swallow hard and if not for Freddy's hand squeezing the blood out of mine, I might've put that fist through the nearest wall.
"What does that mean?" Freddy asks, and I'm amazed she can even formulate words; my mouth is instantly dry as a desert.
"It's a totally different cancer, one that is quite common, and the standard treatment has very high success rates."
"What kind of treatment?"
I'm still trying to process the biopsy results and Freddy has already moved on to treatments. My head is spinning.
"The first part's already been taken care of: the transurethral resection you had last week. Dr. Stephens is quite confident he removed it all, and took some random samples of your bladder lining that all came back clean. No further surgery is required, but given your history, we both feel some follow-up treatment would be prudent."
"Chemo?"
"No. It's called intravesical immunotherapy and has better success rates than chemo at this stage. It basically means they apply BCG, which is a germ that affects the cancer cells directly, straight into the bladder via catheter. There are some side effects, but those are manageable and nothing compared to what you've been through before. Six weeks, once a week. The one drawback is that you'd have to drive up to Sudbury for treatments."
I barely listen to the rest of the conversation, my head spinning with familiar and not so familiar terms.
"You've been quiet," Freddy says wh
en we walk out toward the parking lot, an appointment for her to see a specialist tomorrow, in Sudbury, booked.
"Just thinking."
We get into the Jeep and drive back to her office in silence. Before getting out to pick up her dog and her car, she leans over the console.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I mutter, bending down to give her a kiss. "See you in a bit."
With one last long look, she opens her door and hops down.
My mind is such a jumble, the moment I see her come outside with Boulder, I just start driving, without waiting for her to get in her car. I'd convinced myself it would turn out to be nothing. In the end, I was so sure. I never even considered bracing for the alternative. Her doctor seemed upset for Freddy that she wasn't able to give better news, but at the same time sounded very optimistic about her prognosis.
I'm so lost in my thoughts, I don't notice I've completely missed the turnoff for Freddy’s and have driven straight home, until I pull into my driveway.
TWENTY-TWO
Freddy
Wow.
What are the odds of that? Two different types of cancer occurring in the same body, one just about ten inches from the other, yet almost fourteen years apart.
Really? What are the odds?
I thought I'd be more upset—frantic even—but the only thing I really feel is shock and a growing sense of unfairness.
Because, what the fuck? Do I have a bullseye on my back I don't know about?
I'm glad Dr. Heikal pointed out the good news, because I could've sworn it pretty much all sucked.
And what's with Newt driving right past my exit? Is he blowing me off? Well, that didn't take long. I watch him drive on as I wait to make my left turn. Whatever is going on in his mind, I'm not going to chase him down. He knew what he was getting into. He said he'd be beside me. If the reality is too much for him, I'll understand. Maybe not today, but eventually. As soon as I see an opening in traffic, I turn onto Cil Road, forcing my focus ahead.
Just past the bend, I slow down and stop the car beside the ditch Jim fished me out of all those years ago. Right here on Cil Road. There was a reason I bought my house on this same road. When it came up for sale, it felt like a sign. Every day when I leave my house and drive by this spot, and every night I come home, I'm reminded how far I've come.
Today just driving past is not enough.
Boulder whines behind me, not understanding why we're stopping here when we're only a few hundred yards from home. I'm not sure myself, other than I feel the need to. I lean my head back and close my eyes, murmuring at Boulder to put him at ease. He feels my turmoil. I recognize these spinning thoughts. I spent many months with the same pity party playing through my head after my mom died.
Why me?
A valid question, given my circumstances, but one that has only one answer: why not me? Why anyone else? I need to get myself together before I get pulled into the same self-pitying groove that landed me in this bloody ditch.
I force myself to sidestep my emotions and focus on the factual information.
I have cancer, but a kind that is easier to treat, with much better survival rates than cervical cancer. They caught it early, so that vastly improves my chances as well. Add to that the fact that the tumour has already been removed; I'm actually halfway to beating this thing.
Six weeks of treatment, one day a week. I can be done before the next school year. Other than that driving to Sudbury is a pain in the ass, this is a spit in the bucket compared to the five weeks of daily radiation, plus six months of chemo, I faced before.
I should be ashamed of myself. People get news like this all the time, most of them with a much worse prognosis than mine.
Allowing myself one last dark thought about Newt taking off, I put my car in gear and drive off. Home, where my little family awaits.
-
It's a little early yet to feed Timber and George, so I put Bijou on the porch with her food and take Boulder with me to get my guys out of the barn, so they can have a bit of a run. Chester is grazing on the far edge of the field, where the trees provide some shade from the sun. He lifts his head when I approach the barn, but doesn't make a move to come near.
Timber is almost climbing over the gate, and George just wags his little tail when I walk in the barn.
"You guys wanna come out for a bit? Play in the yard?"
I barely open the gate and Timber bounds past me and out the barn, with George following behind at a much, much slower pace.
"Keep an eye on them, buddy," I urge Boulder, who lopes out after.
I grab the muck fork to do a quick poop scoop of their pen, when I hear a car drive up to my house. A quick glance around the corner shows Newt getting out of his Jeep, my menagerie crowding around his legs. The sight rattles me. Makes me feel guilty for immediately writing him off.
I duck back into the stable to finish cleaning and readjust my thoughts. By the time I put the fork back on the hook, and pick up the bucket to dispose of behind the barn, a smile has formed on my face. I turn to the door and stop dead in my tracks. Leaning against the doorpost is Newt's tall, solid frame, his steel blue eyes looking at me from under his heavy brow, a small tilt to his mouth.
"What's that?" He points a finger at the pail I'm holding.
"Bucket of shit."
"Sorry?"
I press my lips together at the look of confusion on his face and casually walk up, lifting the bucket so he can look in.
"Whoa," he exclaims, waving a hand in front of his nose. "You're not kidding."
"Nope." I pop the 'p' and with a grin on my face, slip past him, taking the bucket out back to empty. I quickly rinse it out with the hose I have rolled up on a hook on the side of the barn.
Newt is still in the same spot, except now facing out of the barn, his eyes still on me. George has come waddling up and is sniffing his sneakers. I slip by him again, still grinning.
"Come on, boys," I call out, clapping my hands.
Timber comes running up and scoots right into the stall, waiting patiently by his feed pail. George is a little slower, so I start scooping food for Timber first. He's already scarfing down when I feed George and close the gate on the stall.
This time when I try to scoot by Newt, his arm shoots out and catches me around my waist.
"Not so fast."
I just manage to lift my hands to his chest when he pulls me flush against him. One hand comes up to brush stray hair out of my face before he lowers his mouth to mine, sliding his tongue between my lips. A small groan escapes when he strokes along mine in a languid, toe-curling kiss. By the time he lifts his head; I'm breathless.
"You taste like sin, but I'm sorry to say, all I can smell is manure."
"I still have to wash up. Come on inside." I don't wait for his answer, just grab his hand and start walking. Boulder is patiently waiting at the base of the porch steps. "Yes, I'll feed you next, buddy."
As promised, I look after Boulder first, while Newt plays tug-of-war with Bijou and her rope on the porch. A quick peek in the fridge shows little more than a few eggs, some strawberries and half a carton of milk.
"Don't worry about it." I jump when Newt's voice comes from right behind me. "Get cleaned up and I'll take you out to our place."
"Our place?"
"Trapper’s something."
"Trapper’s Choice? Since when is that our place?"
"Since that's where we had our first date."
"Isn't a date supposed to be something that you plan? That was a chance meeting."
"Felt like a first date. Now, stop arguing with me and get cleaned up so we can eat."
"Bossy," I fire at him when I head for the stairs.
"Damn right," he calls after me, making me smile.
When I quickly hop in the shower, I realize we haven't spoken a single word about what transpired earlier. The reprieve is nice, but I'm pretty sure it won't last much longer.
Newt
I watch as sh
e comes down the stairs, the skirt of her dress swirling around her legs. This is another summery number with large bold flowers and, I'm happy to note, shoulder straps and a button front. Only the second time I've seen her in a dress, since the rest of the time she seems to prefer jeans or pants.
"Another dress," I comment. "I like this one too."
"Good," she says, smiling a little. "Glad you appreciate it, because this is the extent of my date-appropriate wardrobe. And the fact I had to cut the tags off both of them should tell you something."
I walk up, lift her hand over her head and twirl her.
"It does; I like them even more."
"Good," she repeats, trying to hide a smirk. "Then I won't tell you I mostly dressed up to divert attention from my face."
I never even thought about that. Her eye is a bit of a mess and the white bandage stands out like a beacon. I never noticed it, I was too busy checking the rest of her out. I consider for a moment, changing plans and staying home, but Freddy doesn't seem to care. She's already checking on Moe, who seems happy lazing with her kittens in the crate, and says goodnight to the dogs. I follow her out and wait for her to lock the door behind us. She takes a long look at the overnight bag I quickly toss in the back seat so she can sit, but doesn't comment on it.
My earlier fuck up, when I blindly drove home, turned out to be a good thing. Once I got my head out of my ass, I walked down to the Bennetts’ place three doors down, to see if it was possible for Millie to stay there for the night, and offered to return the favour any time. It wasn't a problem, in fact Katie, Jenna's mom, mentioned she loved having my daughter over. Said Millie was like Xanax to her oldest. There were loud objections from the younger Bennetts when I tried to put the leash on Bella—who I'd intended to take with me—so she is staying the night as well.
I quickly tossed a few things in a bag at home and locked up, hoping the whole way to Freddy's place I didn't fuck up too badly.
"Want your draft?" I ask when we're seated at the same table outside. The waitress had given her the once over and was blunt enough to ask what happened. Freddy said something about an accident, and with a long scrutinizing look in my direction, the woman seemed to accept that explanation.
