Finding Forever (13 page)

“I’M DYING!” she screamed so loud her neighbors could hear.

“What you mean you dying?” Koran released her and stepped back.

“I have leukemia.” She inhaled deeply as tears rolled from the corners of her eyes.

“C’mon, Whitney, if you wanna break up then say it, but you ain’t gotta say no ignorant shit like that.”

“I’m not playing. I’m tellin’ the truth.”

“Yeah, okay, Whitney. You got leukemia. Tell me anything.”

“Why the fuck would I lie to you about something like that?”

“Man, get the fuck outta here.” He balled up his fists, pissed. “You ain’t got no goddamn cancer! You just mad ’cause you ran into ole’ girl and now you wanna run again! Well, guess what? If that’s what you wanna do, then step! Go the fuck head ’cause I ain’t got time for the games, ma! This shit here is too much.” Koran threw his hands in the air. “Ya’ll muthafuckas is gettin’ on my nerves! First, I had to argue wit Trina! Now I got to turn around and argue wit yo’ ass? Nah, I’m not having it! If you wanna run, run!”

“You know what? You’s a selfish muthafucka! Everything always gotta be about you! Maybe Trina wasn’t lying! Maybe ya’ll are together, since you want me to go so bad!”

“A’ight, yeah, I’m wit her. Now what? What you want me to do? Buy you a plot?”

For a second it seemed as if time stood still. The little air Whitney had left in her lungs had been sucked away by Koran’s words. She could visualize herself falling into a heap on the floor, but her legs were frozen stiff. Whitney had never felt so alone. How could the one person she depended on most hurt her so?

“Fuck you,” she spat, slapping his face so hard she left her handprint.

Koran never saw the slap coming. He thought Whitney was just playing. There couldn’t be any truth in her words. There just couldn’t be, because, if there were, what did that mean for them? If Whitney had cancer that meant she would be leaving him once again. Why would God do that to him, to them?

“Whitney, come here,” he begged, trying to grab her.

“Don’t touch me.” She spun around on her heels, causing him to jump back. “Fuck you! Yo’ ass gots to go! I’m sick of this shit! This is the time in my life where I am supposed to be happy for once, but no, here I am five months pregnant with fuckin’ leukemia! I thought I was done with this shit!”

“What you mean you thought you were done? What, you had cancer before?”

“Don’t you get it?! I lied! That’s why I left back in high school! My parents found a chemotherapy center in Chicago. That’s why we moved. I didn’t want anybody to see me sick. I didn’t want anybody to see me throw up ten times a day or shit on myself. I didn’t want anybody to see me so fatigued I couldn’t even walk without help. I didn’t want anybody to see me lose my fuckin’ hair,” Whitney screamed as she picked up a crystal vase and threw it.

“I can’t even finish school now! But you know what makes it worse? I had to find out about your other bitch on the same day I learned I have cancer again! Do you know how that made me feel? I felt like just saying fuck it and dying right then and there! Hell, I should have, ’cause from the looks of things I’m gonna die, anyway!”

“Quit saying shit like that,” Koran yelled. “You’re not dying!”

“How you know? This is my second time getting cancer, Koran! You really think I’ma survive that shit twice? Picture that! Nothing ever happens the same way twice!”

“This is some bullshit.” Koran plopped down onto the bed and covered his face with his hands. “You not gon’ leave me again.” He broke down and cried. “Fuck that! That shit ain’t happening!”

“Koran, calm down,” Whitney pleaded, wrapping her arms around him. She hated to see him defeated. “Don’t do that. You gon’ make it worse.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to deal with this shit, Whitney?” He looked up at her with glossy eyes. “We just got back together.”

“I don’t know, baby. I wish I could tell you.” She used her thumb to wipe his face. “You just have to.”

“Man, I can’t believe this. Here I am thinking everything is cool and here come this shit.”

“The only thing we can do at this point is pray and be optimistic. I mean it’s not like I’m gon’ die tomorrow. At least I hope not,” she joked, trying to make light of the situation.

“That shit ain’t funny, man.”

“I know it’s not. I’m sorry.”

“So that’s just it. They can’t do anything to help you?”

“Since I have acute leukemia my doctor wanted me to start chemo immediately. So I go in tomorrow to register at the David C. Pratt Cancer Center.”

“What time you gotta be there?”

“I have to be there by nine, but that’s just to register. Once I’ve registered I have to go back for my first treatment.”

“And it’s not going to hurt the baby?”

“No, just me, unfortunately.”

“This shit here is too much. I swear to God it is.”

“We can get through this though, babe. I know we can. I mean, I have to. I’m not trying to not see my baby grow up. But just in case things don’t go as I plan, I do want to start doing all the things I’ve never done before.”
“Like what?” Koran wiped his face.

“Watch the sunrise, witness a miracle, get married.” She giggled.

“Look at you.” Koran laughed some too.

“I’m for real.”

“You know anything you want to do, I’ma hold you down.”

Finding Forever

Nobody said a word. Total and utter silence filled the cold, sterile room as Whitney and Koran awaited the chemotherapy technologist’s arrival. Today was the day they’d been dreading. Neither of them had been able to sleep the night before. Whitney lay in Koran’s arms as both of their minds traveled to unwanted places. Now here they were facing their worst fears. Whitney inhaled and exhaled repeatedly, hoping that would slow down her heart rate.

She’d gone through the process of getting her blood pressure, height and weight taken. She’d even had an intravenous catheter inserted into her arm, but to go through her first chemotherapy treatment in six years would be the hardest part of all. It was like admitting that cancer had conquered her again and won.

And although she’d been here before in life, this time was different. She was no longer just living for herself. The baby girl growing inside her belly depended on her survival for its own. Whitney planned on doing anything and everything she could to ensure that her child made it into the world, even if that meant giving up her own life.

“How are you doing, Whitney?” The chemo tech, whose name was Cassandra, smiled and hugged her.

“As good as I can be, I guess.” She forced herself to smile.

“Well, hopefully what we’re about to do will make everything better. Your name is Koran, right? You’re Whitney’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Koran looked up and replied.

“How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Now we’re going to give her medication after treatment, but there still may be some side effects.”

“Like what?” Koran asked, concerned.

“Some of the side effects are pain, diarrhea, constipation, mouth sores, hair loss, nausea, and vomiting. So you just really have to be prepared to take care of her.”

“A’ight.” He nodded, taking it all in.

“Good. So Miss Whitney, are you ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get started.”

Whitney sat back in the recliner and got comfortable. Chemo treatments could last for several hours. Koran watched closely as Cassandra placed a needle into Whitney’s arm and drugs began to drip into her veins. The sight of his five-month pregnant girlfriend receiving chemo crushed Koran’s soul. To him, Whitney was as fragile as a Faberge Egg.

But what scared him the most was that she looked so at peace. Her eyes were closed. The white empire waist maternity dress and yellow cashmere cardigan she wore complimented her round belly perfectly. Whitney was the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Every now and then the baby would kick, reminding him of the importance of the chemo working and Whitney getting better.

The thought of how he would raise a child without her by his side haunted his mind every second of the day. The fact that his being a single parent was a possibility fucked him up inside. Koran didn’t understand why God would bring her back into his life just for things to be the way they were. They were supposed to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

There was so much he had yet to share with her. They were supposed to explore the world together, hand in hand. Koran had always envisioned them getting married, having children and watching their grandchildren grow up. This whole cancer thing was fucking up his fantasy. Losing her for good wasn’t a part of the equation.

Quietly, he took her hand. Whitney opened her eyes and revealed an angelic smile. On the outside she seemed so confident and brave. Koran wished he had an ounce of her courage. She was dealing with the situation better than he was and he wasn’t even the one with cancer.

“You sure you’re ready for all this?” she asked in a soft tone.

“No,” Koran answered, afraid.

“You’ll be okay.” Whitney released his hand and rubbed his head.

“I hope so, baby. I hope so.”

Finding Forever

“How you feel?” Koran asked as he and Whitney pulled up to his house.

“I’m good, baby. Stop asking me that.” She laughed.

“I’m just making sure.”

“Well, yes, I’m fine.”

“A’ight.” He turned the engine off.

“And whose house are we at? It’s beautiful.”

“Mine . . . I mean ours.”

“This is your place?” Whitney pointed her finger toward the house.

“Yeah.”

“Do you realize that I have never been here?”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to bring you. I got something I want to show you.”

Koran hopped out and ran around the car to open Whitney’s door. Holding his hand, she carefully stepped out. It was like she was in another land. Koran’s house was breathtaking. It was like something she’d seen on HGTV. It was an Old Victorian row house, located on a quiet street in Lafayette Square.

“Koran, this is gorgeous. Oh my god,” she gushed. “Why have you never brought me here before?”

“’Cause we spend so much time at your crib that I kinda forgot I had one of my own.”

“How could you ever forget about something like this?” she wondered out loud as he opened the door.

Koran’s living room was huge. It was more than twice the size of hers. Mahogany hardwood floors gave the space a warm, welcoming appeal, but the decor needed a woman’s touch. The typically manly furnishings consisted of a leather sectional sofa, a cocktail table, flat screen television and an entertainment system.

“Your place is nice, baby.”

“Our place,” he corrected her.

“You really want me to move in here with you?”

“Yeah, I mean your place is cool, but we can’t raise no baby there. You got concrete floors, ma. That ain’t gon’ work.”

“You are right about that.”

“And, plus, you only got one bedroom. Where the baby gon’ sleep?”

“So much stuff has been going on that I hadn’t really thought about that.”

“Well, I have. My place has three bedrooms, so we more than good. You feel me?”

“I feel you.”

“Now come upstairs wit me. I wanna show you something.”

With her hand in his, Koran led Whitney up two flights of stairs. On the third floor of the house was his bedroom. He’d gone for a very minimalist look. There wasn’t a lot of furniture in the space, but the little there was, was fly as hell. The first thing Whitney laid eyes on was his Asian-inspired platform bed, which was black with a red, sloped headboard. The comforter was a striking combination of black and red swirls over a white background.

A small off-white nightstand sat on one side of the bed and on top of it was a glass bowl filled with live goldfish. On the other side of the room was an off-white dresser with a lamp on it. The wall across from the bed held a huge flat screen television. But what topped the entire room off was that the roof of the bedroom was made completely of glass so you could see the sky.

“Now we can watch the sunrise every morning if you want to.”

“Koran, oh my god, this is so sweet.” She hugged his neck. “Has this always been like this or did you do it for me?”

“I did it for you.” He kissed her lips passionately.

Whitney loved kissing Koran. His kisses were always so sweet and fulfilling. Whitney released her lips from his and replied, “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome. Now come on. Let’s find us something to eat, I’m starving.”

Finding Forever

It was an unusually windy August afternoon. A cool wind swept through the air. Koran stood on the porch with his hands in his pockets. Sheek had just pulled up in front of his house so they could talk. Normally they’d talk indoors, but the conversation he and Sheek were about to have couldn’t be held indoors. Sheek stepped out his Mercedes Benz S600 Sedan, fresh to death in a fitted white v-neck T-shirt and army fatigue style baggy shorts. A pair of brand new, brown tweed high-top Chuck Taylors completed his look.