For the Sake of Love (4 page)

Then she thought about the first time they met. Both were freshmen at Clark Atlanta University. They had an English class together, and he was such a clown, always cracking jokes and trying to make her laugh.

To her, he was the handsomest guy she had ever met. She had never seen eyes as sexy as his. His eyes had the same affect on her that kryptonite must have had on Superman. Coupled with his smooth bronze-colored skin, high cheekbones, full lips, and white, even teeth, he exceeded her wildest dreams.

His sense of humor attracted her even more than his good looks. They swiftly became friends and were inseparable. Whenever they were out together and a female disrespected her by flirting with him, Bria never had to say a word. He would straighten the girl out by letting her know that Bria was his girl, and disrespecting her was not an option.

One of the many things she really liked about Spade was his street credibility. He was from Detroit and had never been stabbed or shot. When they went out, she felt safe and shielded from any peril that was common in big cities.

She enjoyed talking to him because he was easy to talk to. She felt as though she could tell him anything, and he seemed interested in whatever she had to say.

When she confided in him that she was a virgin and planned to stay that way until she got married, he ended up giving her a hug and kissing her on the forehead. Even though he went to church as a child, he admitted to her that he didn't fully understand what it meant to be saved. He had been told about God but didn't feel as though he knew Him for himself. He asked her to tell him more about Jesus, and she did. His thoughtfulness at that moment convinced her that he was the man for her. Not long afterward he got saved.

Bria could feel a breeze blowing against her skin as they slowly drifted in the sky looking at the grass, trees, and structures below. The blond guy made a few comments about where they were and what they were seeing. As Bria looked at the blue sky and cottony looking clouds next to her she could see her future in the clouds. She felt free and every fiber of her being came alive. To her, this was living life to the fullest.

She felt Spade's hand tighten around her waist. Being with him made her feel safe, protected, and cared for. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was marrying the man God had destined for her.

Just as the balloon wandered aimlessly in the sky without care or concern, Bria felt as though she too didn't have a care in the world.

At nine o'clock Monday morning, Spade found himself sitting in the doctor's office getting examined.

The doctor touched the lump, and it moved readily with slight finger pressure. “Does that hurt?” the doctor asked.

“No.”

“Okay. In regard to the lump,” the doctor told him, “you have a lipoma.”

Spade could've sworn the lump jumped from his back to his throat. He had to swallow hard. He tried not to panic, but his pounding heart let him know he wasn't doing a good job.

“Doc, if you're trying to scare me, you're doing a good job.”

“No, no,” the doctor said. “Lipomas are the most common noncancerous soft tissue growth.” He scribbled some notes. “I'm going to remove it just to be sure the growth is noncancerous. I'll be right back.”

Spade's leg shook nervously as he waited for the doctor to return. He didn't know the first thing about medicine, but he hoped and prayed the lump was as minor as the doctor made it seem.

The doctor knocked, and Spade told him to come in. He then explained the procedure. “I'm going to inject a local anesthetic around the lipoma, make an incision in the skin, remove the growth, and close the incision with sutures.” He made it sound so simple, Spade thought. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

His first instinct was to call Bria so that she could pray with him. They were prayer partners and prayed about everything. He was convinced that she had a direct line to God, because whenever they prayed together, miracles happened.

As badly as he wanted to tell her, he just couldn't bring himself to do it, though. She had enough on her plate with the opening of her business and planning the wedding. He didn't want to worry her needlessly, especially over some small outpatient surgery.

The doctor performed the procedure, and it turned out to be fairly simple, just like he described.

“We'll let you know when we hear back from the lab,” was the physician's departing comment as Spade pulled his shirt back on and got ready to go home.

All Spade could do was pray for the best and wait.

 

 

Spade's week had been packed. Nonstop. Every day seemed like a new adventure. The A&R Department told him what producers they had gotten for him to work with as well as where the CD would be recorded. His CD recordings were going to be split between Atlanta, Georgia, and London, England. When he found out he was going to be spending time in London he felt like a true artist. William Shakespeare had moved to London, and the royal family still lived there. He imagined London as being a place of inspiration. He was going to wait to tell Bria and keep it a secret. The two of them had combined a list of every place they wanted to travel, and London was on the top of the list. He liked surprising her; her reactions never got old.

Since he already had an approved title for his CD, the art department had begun working on the CD cover art. He knew they had the final say-so, but he was glad they asked for his input.

That early Friday afternoon was a day that changed the game for Spade. The doctor called to tell him his lab results were back and that Spade needed to come in right away so that he could go over the results with him. Nothing could've prepared him to hear the doctor tell him the dreaded words, “You have a form of cancer called lymphoma.”

“What is that?” he asked. He didn't mean to sound so defensive, but this had taken him for a loop.

“Lymphoma is a type of cancer that begins in immune system cells. Not to sound like a textbook, but like other cancers, lymphoma occurs when cells are in a state of uncontrolled cell growth and multiplication.”

Spade felt as if his mind was on overload. In the cascade of medical terms, the only thing he heard was the big C—Cancer—the same disease that killed his beloved grandmother.

“W-what?” Spade stammered, refusing to believe what he had just heard.

“I'm sorry, but—”

“No! Run the test again,” Spade interjected, silently praying that he hadn't heard what he just thought he had. Spade's six foot two frame slumped over as tears welled in his eyes. He didn't consider himself to be sensitive by any means, but this broke him down like a fraction.

“I understand how you feel.” The doctor sounded sympathetic.

“No, unless you've been diagnosed with cancer yourself, you
don't
understand how I feel,” he snarled. Spade felt as if the air was being sucked from the room and right out of his lungs.

Oblivious to the suffocating effects, the surgeon let the other shoe drop. “We'll make an oncology appointment for you as soon as possible.”

Spade didn't want to hear anymore. He slumped down in the chair and sobbed in his hands. All he could think about was dying young. He felt as if life had thrown him a major curve ball. This felt so unfair to him. He had so many hopes and dreams. Now this!

He looked up at the surgeon. “Why me?” Spade demanded. “Why now? This should be the happiest time of my life. I'm twenty-five years old, engaged to be married to an incredible woman, and, on top of everything, I just signed a recording contract with a major label.”

Seizing the brief moment of silence during Spade's lament, the doctor said, “We'll call you with your oncology appointment.”

“How serious is it?” Spade sniffled, wiped his now red eyes, and braced himself for the worst. “How long do I have to live?”

The doctor cleared his throat. “That depends on what stage you're in. I've known of people in the final stage to live as long as five years.”

Spade couldn't take any more bad news. His hands began to tremble as he stared at the white wall behind the surgeon's head. “I just want to be alone for a few minutes.”

The doctor nodded. “Take as much time as you need.” He then left Spade to ponder his fate.

Spade stopped crying and started praying. “Father, I don't know what this is about. I want to trust you. I'm going to trust you.” He sounded resolute. “I know that you will help me, but please help me until you help me.”

He didn't know anything about the disease he had been diagnosed with. One thing he did know was that most cancers required some sort of treatment, most likely chemotherapy. He wasn't big on chemo because he and Bria often talked about having two or three kids. He knew that Bria wanted to be a mother someday, and he believed she'd make a great one. With this disease hanging over his head, how was that going to work? He could freeze his sperm in hopes that he'd beat the disease and still be able to become a dad. But the thing with cancer was that it was a beast within itself. It may or may not respond to treatment. Even if it responded to treatment, it was vengeful enough to sometimes come back. How could he live like that?

He was in a daze until his cell phone rang. It was his fiancée. He cleared his throat before answering.

“Baby, I want to see you,” Bria said.

He wasn't in the right state of mind to see anyone, but Bria insisted. He had a hard time telling her no, especially when she sounded so sweet and upbeat. Against his better judgment he agreed to go over her house.

He sat in the doctor's office for five more minutes before composing himself enough to walk out. Whether real or imagined, he felt as though everyone in the doctor's office knew about his prognosis. He didn't want their sympathy. Not wanting to speak to anyone, he kept his eyes stayed on the ground and hurried to his car where he banged on the dashboard and hit the steering wheel.

He rode in silence to Bria's house. That was highly unusual for him. He would normally have music playing from the time he got in the car until he arrived at his destination. He'd even critique his own music during his drive time.

When Spade arrived at Bria's house he contemplated driving off. He just didn't have the nerve to face her. He sat in front of her house for nearly ten minutes trying to muster the courage to get out of his car.

“Man, stop,” he told himself. “You're a man. You can handle anything that comes your way.”

He took a deep breath and got out. As he walked up the driveway he swatted a bee buzzing around him. The pollen count was extremely high today. He felt some of that pollen tickle his nostrils and sneezed.

He stood outside Bria's door, and for a brief moment, he felt awkward. Like he didn't know what he was going to say. He rang the doorbell twice to let her know he was there. When she didn't answer quickly enough for him, he used the spare key she had given him for emergency purposes—which he never used—and walked in.

“I was just about to let you in,” Bria said as she made her way into the foyer. She seemed happy to see him and kissed him on the lips. “My mom finally found her outfit! You wanna see it?”

He didn't answer. It took everything in him not to break down. Functioning on autopilot, he went into the family room and she followed.

“Are you all right?” she probed. “You're acting strange.”

Spade felt uneasy as he sat down beside her on the light colored couch. He felt jittery, and the faint smile he did have disappeared almost instantly when he thought about the disease living in his body. For a moment he stared at a cobweb breezily dancing in the corner.

He couldn't do it. Them. The wedding. How could he marry her knowing he had been given a death sentence?

“I have something to tell you, and it's not easy for me,” he said, holding her hand.

A nervous expression appeared on Bria's face. “You're scaring me.”

He exhaled loudly. “I'm sorry.” He felt like crying again. No—
screaming.
His emotions were a chaotic jumble of nerves and agony.

She sat quietly, studying his face.

“I can't marry you,” he continued. Those were the most difficult words he had ever had to say. Cutting off his leg with a dull blade would probably have hurt less than this, he figured.

“What do you mean you can't marry me?” She snatched her hand away. Her eyes welled with tears. “We've been hanging out together just like we always do. We went on a hot air balloon ride together just this past weekend. How can you wake up today and decide, oh, I don't want to get married anymore? Was all of this a lie?” Her voice seemed to get louder with each word.

Unable to bear seeing the woman he loved so upset, Spade reached for her hand again. This time she didn't pull away. “Please,” he pleaded.

“Please?” she repeated incredulously.

“Calm down.” He thought it was ironic that he was telling her to calm down when deep down inside he was anything but calm.

She clasped her hands together. “I'm calm, now what?”

He lowered his head in frustration. Expressing himself through words was easy for him, but today, he couldn't think of anything to say. His mind couldn't formulate the thoughts to articulate what was going on with him. Bummer. Especially since he knew Bria deserved an explanation.

She gripped his dimpled chin with her thumb and first finger, tilted his head toward her, and said, “Why are you doing this?”

Unable to look her in the eyes, he turned his head away, forcing her hand to release its grip. “You deserve better.” He didn't mean he wasn't good enough for her. Shoot, he was the only man for her. What he meant was that she didn't deserve to be with someone battling cancer. Further proof that his mind wasn't functioning properly. Why hadn't he just gone home? Stupid.

“Are you seeing someone else?” Her voice trembled. He could tell that she was trying to be strong and hold back the tears.

“No, no.” He shook his head. Since they had been together he hadn't even entertained the idea of seeing anyone else. Bria was “it” for him.

“I thought you loved me.” Her eyes begged for the explanation he desperately wanted to give her but couldn't.

“I do love you, more than anything else in this world,” he said sincerely. His heart raced as he hugged her.

Her tears wet the left side of his cheek as her face pressed against his. “What's wrong?” she asked barely above a whisper.

“I know you deserve some answers, but I can't deal with this right now.” He had too much going on at one time, and he felt himself getting angry. Not at her, just the situation. He needed time to sort through this thing. “It's over. Trust me, it's for the best.” He looked her in the eyes. “I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm doing this because I love you.” He stood up, ready to leave.

He wanted to tell her the truth about his disease, but he didn't want to put that burden on her. One thing he knew about Bria was that she was loyal to a fault. When she committed herself to something, she went all in. He knew that she'd stay with him no matter what, but his heart wouldn't let him put her through that. She was young with so much to look forward to. She shouldn't have to worry about a terminally ill boyfriend.He didn't want her pity. What if he had to do chemotherapy? He wasn't about to let her see him all weak and busted like that. No way! He'd rather her not see him at all.

And so it was.