Blue Sky Days (23 page)

As we climbed the porch stairs, I smiled sadly in the darkness and squeezed his hand.

*****

Monday morning came too soon. As we ate an early breakfast in the kitchen with Daisy, Nicholas said, “I’ll look forward to next weekend when I’m back home for another few days.” He smiled at us and went back to his breakfast, picking at the strawberries and blueberries on top of his oatmeal.

He grimaced slightly and furrowed his brow as if he might be in pain. When the moment passed, the lines in his forehead smoothed and he let out a long breath. I could tell by the visible tension in his shoulders that he knew I was watching him, but he didn’t look up; he just continued eating his breakfast with his head down.

When we were finished breakfast, he moved a little slower than usual as he gathered up the last of his things and stuffed them into his small suitcase. He’d spent the night with us because we had to get an early start to be back at the hospital by ten, and he had everything packed except his pajamas and toiletries.

I told myself that he was moving slowly because it was so early and he had become used to sleeping in. But in the back of my mind, I wondered if this was an effect of the chemo kicking in, and how this week would differ from the last.

We drove mostly in silence back to Maltonville Hospital. Nicholas sat in the passenger seat with his head leaning back against the head rest and turned toward the window so he could watch the world pass by. His face was completely impassive, and I didn’t know whether to say anything or keep quiet, but I decided to remain silent.

I could tell he was thinking hard about something, and whatever it was, I didn’t want to interrupt him. I knew him well enough to know that if he wanted to talk about whatever was on his mind, he would. I also knew there would be plenty of time in the week ahead for talking during my daily visits.

Doctor Roy was already at the hospital when we arrived, and he checked Nicholas in and got him settled in his room. He asked about our weekend, listening with interest before explaining the course of treatments for the week.

“It’ll be much the same as last week,” Roy informed us as Nicholas settled himself in bed. “Chemo late in the mornings, but they’ll run a little longer than an hour this week. I’m sure you won’t even notice the difference.”

I watched Nicholas as Roy talked. He seemed to be back to his easy-going, happy self, which was both puzzling and pleasing after his almost brooding silence on the long drive to Maltonville.

I stayed for most of the day, reading to Nicholas during his treatment, then watching movies in the lounge until he fell asleep next to me on the couch, his chin touching his chest. Since we were alone in the room, I decided to just let him sleep. I shifted carefully so his head could rest on my shoulder, and pulled the blanket up around us. Not wanting to move for fear of waking him, and because I liked the feel of his warm body next to mine, I stayed like that the rest of the afternoon, flipping through channels before settling on a movie and watching it mindlessly.

When Natalie came to get us for dinner, Nicholas smiled sleepily at me and pressed his face to my neck. He stayed like that for a minute before slowly unfolding himself from the couch. When he stood, he shut his eyes tight, his brow furrowed, and I looked at Natalie, feeling slightly panicked.

“Dizzy?” she asked, moving further into the room and resting a hand on Nicholas’s shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked several times. “I think I got up too fast,” he murmured. He turned toward me, and, no doubt seeing the worry on my face, his brow smoothed out. “I’m fine, baby, don’t worry.”

When he spoke, I realized how little we had actually talked that day. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, because he took my hand and we made our way back to his room.

Later that evening before I left for the night, Nicholas held my hand tightly and just stared at me. His gaze was intense as it roamed over my face before meeting my eyes. Finally he said, “I love you, Emma,” and brought my hand to his lips, brushing the knuckles with a kiss.

I stood there for a second watching his face before bending to kiss him goodbye and telling him I loved him, too. Somehow I managed to walk calmly to the door, but once I reached the hall, I broke into a run. I knew people were watching me, knew they wondered what was wrong with me, but I didn’t care. I ran blindly, vaguely aware of people moving out of my way, until I reached the parking garage and got into my car.

Chest heaving, I leaned my head against the steering wheel and let the tears fall. Despite my best efforts to stop, each time the tears slowed I would think about Nicholas in that hospital bed and a fresh wave of tears spilled down my cheeks. Finally, my head throbbing and my entire body weak, I forced myself to stop, and I wiped the moisture from my face angrily.

“You can’t do this!” I yelled in the heavy silence of my car. “It’s only been a week and there’s still a long battle ahead. You can’t lose it this soon—Nicholas needs you too much! You have to be strong for
him
!”

I sucked air into my painfully tight lungs and kept drawing deep breaths until it was easier to breathe. Knowing it wouldn’t be safe to drive in my condition, I sat in the car hunched over the steering wheel with my forehead resting on my hands. I waited until my heartbeat returned to normal and the blinding pain was gone from my head. Then I started the engine and began my journey home.

*****

That night as I went through my room looking for something different for Nicholas and I to do, Daisy appeared at my door with the portable phone. She had her hand over the mouthpiece and a familiar sour look on her face.

I knew right away that it must be my mother on the line, and I sighed deeply. After my meltdown earlier I wasn’t sure I could handle talking to her, but without a word I took the phone from Daisy, plopped down on the bed, and said coolly, “Hello, Mother.”

“Hello sweetheart,” my mother said in her false saccharine tone that set my teeth on edge and made me want to vomit. “Your father told me about your boyfriend being ill. He said you called last week, but I wasn’t home and haven’t had time to call you since. This must be just horrible for you.”

I squelched the hysterical laugh that rose up in my throat, and forced myself to stay calm. If she had known about this for over a week, why was she just calling me now? I didn’t care how busy she’d been, a good parent would have called. But then I guess that was an answer itself—she
wasn’t
a good parent.

“It’s more horrible for Nicholas than for me, Mother.
I’m
not the one wondering whether I’m going to live or die.
I’m
not the one having poison pumped into my body to kill cancer cells.
I’m
not the one fighting for my life!” The calm tone I was aiming for hadn’t really worked out; I barely recognized the loud, high-pitched voice coming from my own mouth.

There was a pause on the other end of the line as I breathed heavily, my shoulders still heaving with the outpouring of emotion. I happened to look up to see Daisy still standing in the doorway, shock mingled with sympathy on her face. She came back into the room, eased down on the bed beside me and took my hand. I clutched it tightly, feeling as if the connection was the only thing keeping me sane in that moment.

“I understand that, Emma. It just must be hard for you having to deal with a sick boyfriend, that’s all I meant.” My mother’s breezy tone made me want to scream.

“I don’t have to
deal with it
, Mother. I’m
supporting
Nicholas through the worst time in his life. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

My mother made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sneeze when I mentioned the word ‘love’. It wasn’t often that I was able to shock my mother, and I took a perverse pleasure from it. Still, a small part of me wondered if I was overreacting or being too hard on her, but then I remembered who I was talking to—the queen of selfishness and ulterior motives. If our roles had been reversed, if she were the one who was ‘dealing with’ a sick loved one, she would be more concerned about herself, even as she played the role of martyr.

“Of course, Emma,” she finally said. “It’s a horrible ordeal for
both
of you to go through, and I commend you for
supporting
Nicholas. But that isn’t really why I called, dear.”

I rolled my eyes and barely stopped myself from saying, ‘here it comes’. I knew there was no way she was calling out of genuine concern. It was just a convenient conversation-starter for some other agenda. I took a deep breath and said, “Oh?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you’ll be coming home for Thanksgiving?”

I let out a disbelieving laugh that sounded more like a squeak. The love of my life was in the hospital fighting cancer and my mother wanted to know if I was coming home for
Thanksgiving
?

“I can’t really think about that right now, Mother,” I said through clenched teeth. “It will depend on how Nicholas is doing.”

“Of course, dear. If he’s better, we want him to come, too. Your father and I think it’s about time we meet this boy.”

“Daddy thought it was time you meet Nicholas almost two months ago, Mother. I asked you countless times to come down for a visit to get to know Nicholas, but you always refused.”

“Let’s not talk about that now, Emma,” my mother said, sounding as exasperated as I felt.

“When
can
we talk about it then, Mother?” I glanced at Daisy and could have sworn she was trying not to smile. She looked almost proud. Maybe she was as surprised as I was that I had finally grown a backbone where my mother was concerned.

There was a loud sigh on the other end of the phone line, and I could tell that what was left of my mother’s patience was about to run out. She ignored my question altogether and said, “Well let me know about Thanksgiving, dear. I’m just on my way out, so I’ll speak with you again soon. Bye-bye.” Before I could say anything, there was a click, followed by the resonant sound of the dial tone.

“
Unbelievable
,” I said, handing the phone to Daisy so I wouldn’t throw it across the room. “She’s unbelievable!”

Daisy shook her head. “You don’t have to tell me, honey.” She pulled me to my feet, slung an arm around my waist and led me out of my room to the stairs. “Let’s have a cup of tea, and sit and talk for a while. Take your mind of things. You’ve been neglecting yourself lately ‘cause you’re trying so hard to take care of Nicholas. He doesn’t need you to take care of him though—he has a whole team of nurses and doctors for that. He’d want you to take care of yourself and make sure you stay healthy.”

“I know,” I said, suddenly feeling so weary it was an effort to get the words out. “I just want him to know that I’ll be there no matter what.”

“He knows. You don’t need to prove it to him because he
knows
.”

I mentally digested Daisy’s last words as she left me to sit alone in the living room while she went to make tea.

*****

The next day when I walked into Nicholas’s room, he was sitting by the bed in a wheelchair with a nurse standing behind him shaving his head. I watched in stunned silence as his beautiful dark blond hair fell to the floor. He looked straight ahead, his hands clasped in his lap, his face void of expression.

When the nurse was done, she began to sweep the hair into a dustpan, and on impulse, I bent to grab a lock of it. Feeling silly and sentimental, I hid it behind my back when Nicholas turned to thank the nurse, and he saw me standing there.

“Hi, baby,” I said stepping up to the wheelchair and smiling at the nurse as she passed me. “What…how are you?”

He laughed quietly and ran his hand over his bald head before wheeling the chair around to face me. “What did she do to me? That’s what you really wanted to ask, wasn’t it?”

I shook my head, but before I could say anything, he continued. “Well, the chemo must be working because when I woke up this morning my pillow was covered in hair and I could pull it out by the handful. When the nurse came in and saw my pillow, she went to get the razor to shave my head.” He took my hand and pulled me onto his lap. “It’ll grow back, don’t worry.” He kissed me on the lips, and after easing away for a second to look at me, he pulled me back and kissed me again more passionately.

Our lips were still locked when there was a knock on the open door and Doctor Roy stepped in. “Sorry to interrupt you young lovers, but it’s time to start today’s treatment.”

I got up from Nicholas’s lap and wheeled him through the corridors to the treatment room. I watched, like I had many times before, as Roy quickly and efficiently hooked up the intravenous and got it started. Turning, he saw me watching him and smiled reassuringly before moving to rub his hand affectionately over Nicholas’s head. “Love the new ‘do,” he said with a grin. “Really suits you.”

Nicholas chuckled and shook his head as we watched Roy leave the room. I took
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
from my bag, and pulled my usual chair over beside Nicholas’s. I read to him until his intravenous drip was done, and after lunch—most of which he left on his plate, untouched—I bundled him into his jacket, covered his legs with blankets, and took him outside in the wheelchair. We strolled around the grounds until we came to a secluded garden full of bright yellow and orange chrysanthemums.

Parking Nicholas’s wheelchair, I sat on a small stone bench facing him.

“How are you feeling? Really?” I asked. “You don’t need to sugarcoat it for me.” I took his hands in mine and rubbed them so they wouldn’t get cold in the chilly afternoon air.

He sighed deeply and looked around at the flowers. Their heads were upturned as if they were trying to take in as much of the feeble autumn sunlight as they could. When Nicholas’s eyes finally met mine, there was a hardness there I’d never seen before.

“Honestly? I feel like crap,” he said, his voice low and even. “I miss going out and being able to do whatever I want whenever I want. I miss being able to spend time with you normally instead of in a hospital room that reeks of sterilizer. The side effects of the chemo are kicking in—my hair’s gone, I feel nauseous half the time, I’m exhausted even though all I do is sit around all day. It sucks and I hate it and it’s not fair.”