Goodbye to You (26 page)

“Always prepared.” She rips open the foil with her teeth, and I jump when she rolls it on my erection.

The friction of her hand combined with the latex is better than I expected.

I’m dying to get inside her. She faces the wall and peeks over her shoulder, hair sticking to her face as she bites her lip and waits.

I bend my knees to get the angle right, and she’s squeezing me so tightly I’m going to explode.

She holds her hips still and lets me control the motion, and within minutes, I come so hard I think I might pass out. I grab the shower curtain rod and thrust a few more times.

A cracking sound fills the air, and we fall in a heap in the bottom of the tub, wrapped in the shower curtain.

This is awkward. We both laugh.

“I’ll fix that later.” I kiss her and regret my class schedule is full today. At least I have an excuse to come back soon.

Even if I don’t need one anymore.

I feel more naked sitting on this exam table in shorts and a flimsy paper shirt than I did yesterday in the shower.

Crazy, right?

The doctor finished the exam and studies films on the monitor.

I’m anxious to see if I’m in the clear. Even the most minuscule of spots would require further tests and delay the mastectomy. I’ve had this tentative date set for months, and any delay is going to kick my psyche in the crotch.

I’m ready for the mastectomy to be done, for recovery to begin, and for reconstruction to start in a few months.

There could still be complications: infection, bleeding, and even losing the nipples I’m trying to save.

If the nipple-sparing procedure works, I’ll retain a sense of normalcy.

My breasts will never be the same, but at least I’ll still have nipples.

Shay squeezes my hand, bringing me back to the present.

Dr. Beltran turns from the computer. I hold my breath.

She smiles. “Your test results are fantastic. The films are clear.”

I exhale, and Shay kisses my lips before touching his forehead to mine.

“Yay . . .” he whispers, happy for me.

No more waiting.

Say your goodbyes, girls.

You’re outta here!

I should be happy, but a sense of dread falls over me as I continue to second-guess myself.

Being cancer-free trumps everything, but I’ll still miss out on lots of things.

I get dressed and check out, shoving the negative thoughts to a dark corner of my brain.

I’m craving frozen yogurt. It’s warm, so we leave my truck parked in the garage and walk across campus to head to Fro Yo-Yo. Outside the humanities building, a former instructor of mine, Dr. Knox, is sitting at a table having lunch with his wife. I pull Shay by the hand to where they sit.

“Dr. Knox, hello. How are you? This is my boyfriend, Shay Kelly.”

“A pleasure, sir.” Shay extends his hand and is beaming. I think he likes being introduced as my boyfriend.

I turn to Dr. Knox’s wife. “Mrs. Knox, congratulations.”

Mrs. Knox is holding their tiny baby girl, nursing her.

I suck in my stomach like I was punched.

Shay glances away, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. “We’ll be going. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Good to see you, Thea, and to meet you, Shay. Have a nice afternoon.” Dr. Knox turns back to the table.

I move from the little family as fast as my flip-flops can carry me, but Shay closes the distance on his long legs.

“They’re nice.”

“Mm-hmm.” I’m in no mood for small talk.

“You must want that frozen yogurt bad. I don’t think they’ll run out.”

“You never know.” My tone is more clipped than I’d intended since he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Thea, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re busy, so I don’t want to dawdle.”

“Fine.”

We walk in silence, then place our orders and begin the walk back to the car.

I’m not feeling the frozen yogurt anymore. The mint cookie I ordered, my absolute favorite, tastes like cardboard.

I can’t stop thinking about babies. I won’t be able to nurse one, and if the brca1 mutation results in ovarian cancer anytime soon, I won’t be able to have kids.

That’s not fair to Shay. He comes from a close family, and he must want kids. We’ve never talked about it, but I can’t imagine him without a family of his own someday.

A family I may never be able to give him.

I let her moodiness go. She’s having radical surgery soon, life-altering surgery, and she’s going to be moody. If she doesn’t want to talk about it with me, at least she has her therapist and support group members.

Her family too.

Speaking of . . .

We’re curled on the couch, and she’s sprawled across my lap, head on my thigh. A gory zombie show plays in the background. She circles her fingers over and over on my jeans, and her non-reaction to the bloody violence tells me she isn’t paying any attention.

“Hey, did you talk to your dad and sister yet?”

She stiffens.

That would be a “no.”

“I don’t think they’ll be mad,” I say, regretting my anger last week, “but they’ll be upset you held back. Don’t delay anymore.”

She props her chin on my chest and takes my hand in hers.

“You’re right.” She absently toys with my fingers. “With Jen’s treatment and daddy helping out with the twins, they’ve been stressed. I don’t want to add to it.”

“You’ve been helping out too. How is holding this in not stressing you? They’re your family. That’s what family does. They take on each other’s burdens to make them lighter.”

“You’re right.” She squeezes my leg.

“Wait, did you say twins?”

She nods.

“Do they run on your side of the family or your sister’s ex? Because if it’s yours, do you know what the chances would be of us having twins?”

She shields her face in my lap again and doesn’t respond.

Hell, maybe she doesn’t even want kids, but she trained to be an elementary school teacher, so I assume she wants kids of her own.

She’s under intense pressure. These last rounds of tests, telling her family, the looming surgery.

“Come with me. Sunday. To family supper. Daddy wants to introduce me to his new girlfriend. I want them to meet you.”

It’s a big deal, meeting the family over a meal. I smile, remembering my first family dinner with Thea—pizza in the kitchen after Mom found her undressed in my room.

There’s a story for the reunion.

I squeeze her. “Yes. I need to study in the morning. What time should I be here?”

“I’ll pick you up at three thirty. Wear something decent.” She pulls on my ratty Miami shirt.

Family dinner. Dressing up and meeting her dad. A ball of nerves settles in my gut. This could be great, or disastrous, but I’ll support her. She needs to talk to her family. They’ll want to help her, support her through recovery.

Because that’s what families do.

The end of medical school is years away, but it can’t come soon enough for me.

Then I can start my own family, with Thea.

We’ll make adorable kids.

I hope they look like her.

Shay sucks in a deep breath and releases the air in a slow whoosh. It’s endearing how nervous he is to meet my daddy and Jen.