Infinity: Based on a True Story (4 page)

A
bouquet
of red and white roses appear at the doorway and a large smile spreads across my lips as John’s head pops around them, a grin taking over his face.

“You didn’t,” I gasp with sarcasm.

“I did!” He returns the sarcasm, placing the vase on the countertop across from me. Strange, the area he places them in blocks me from seeing myself in the mirror. A part of me is pleased about that; the other part is upset. For what reason, I will never know.

“So,”—I try sitting up but a sharp pain runs under my ribs. I wince and John rushes for me. I stop him before he can grab me. “I’m okay.”

“Sure?”

I nod. “Just some body aches. Haven’t taken anything for it yet.”

“I take it the OPX didn’t go do so well this time.”

“Not. At. All.” I blow out a breath.

“It’s a new formula, babe.” He walks forward, cupping the back of my head and kissing the top of it. Heat glides through my veins, bringing me to a mild boil. “Dr. David said it’d take a while for you to get used to the changes.”

“Yeah… I guess.” I look up at him and instead of turning the mood down I crank it back up again. I take the attention off of me, and the not-new information that I have an incurable disease. “So,” I start again, grabbing the blue pillow Sonya knitted for me and hugging it against my chest, “How was work? Did you create a lot of new meals? New customers? Give me the scoop!”

John sighs, taking the chair next to the bed. “Work was fucking terrible.”

My smile drops. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“I couldn’t seem to focus. I burned three plates of fish. Got one of the main specials for a large party completely wrong and had to start from scratch. They weren’t pleased about the wait time so they ended up eating for free. Lorenzo isn’t too pleased about that. That was a good chunk of money he could’ve had from them. And he would’ve gotten it if I wasn’t being such an airhead chef.”

“No… Stop it.” I grab his hand, stroking the back of it with the pad of my thumb. “You’re just stressed and worried, baby. Everything will be fine once I’m go—” I clamp my mouths shut and John’s head lifts, his eyes connecting with mine.

Tears line the bottom rim and my heart aches as I witness the pain that lies within them. “I don’t get why you say that…” His voice cracks. “You say it like you’re ready to go on.”

The air in the room thickens around me. I have the urge to be a coward, look away so he won’t see the truth in my eyes, but I don’t. I just watch his glistening eyes in hopes that he’ll finally understand… but of course he doesn’t. He never will.

“Why? I just don’t understand why you won’t fight anymore. There’s a chance you can still beat this thing, Shannon.”

“A very slim chance, baby.”

“Slim or not, it’s a chance.” He scoots his chair forward, squeezing my hand. “You know what I believe?”

“What?” I whisper, voice thick.

“I believe you came into my life for a reason. You weren’t meant to come into it and then leave after two and a half years. That can’t be right. God wouldn’t punish me like this without a reward, not after all I’ve been through.”

“His own son was sacrificed, John. What makes you think he can’t do the same to me?”

He gave me a serious look, sitting back and releasing my hand. “What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying maybe this is happening to you because he knows you
can
handle it…”

“I don’t think I can.”

“That’s because you haven’t experienced it before… not with someone you’re in love with.”

“Exactly,” he says hurriedly, sitting forward again with desperate blue eyes. “You’re my wife. We just got married and technically we’re still considered newlyweds. Why take that all away? Why make me suffer now after being miserable for so many years? My parents were enough to endure. Shannon, baby, if you keep fighting anything can happen. Any kind of chance shouldn’t be taken for granted.”

His eyes are hopeful. It kills me. It’s unbearable, knowing that he won’t be able to let go. What’s going to happen to him when I do die? Will he give up? Keep fighting? Will he ever love again or will he wind up being an old, bitter man that doesn’t believe in the word
love
.

“I’m not meant to be here, Johnny.” My voice is barely a whisper. I can barely hear it myself over the machines, but I know what I said.

And, clearly, he understands as well because he sighs, shutting his eyes for a very brief moment and then popping them open again.

Sitting back, John runs his hand down his face, blowing out a breath as his hands drop to his lap.

“I’m not giving up on you.”

“I know,” I murmur.

He looks at me, his head turning slightly. “No, I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to push me away but I won’t let it happen. You can’t. I’m here to stay, and if you believe you’re not meant to be here then I will sit right beside this bed every single day until you draw your last—” He chokes up, catching himself. Look at him. He can’t even say it. “Your last breath.”

His hesitation is understandable. He’s trying to accept what the future holds, but also preserve a little hope. John, he’s a firm believer in God. I like that about him because it’s kept him humble and in the right state of mind.

Which is why I know I will die soon. Because although he thinks he can’t handle it, he can. He will move on. Get stronger. Wiser. Better. He will accept it and move forward with his life, maybe not within the first few months, but eventually. He’ll have to. They say He never puts us through anything we can’t handle. That, I believe.

I will admit that I lost some of my faith a long time ago. Especially when my disease attacked during our honeymoon. I prayed every morning, afternoon, evening, and night for my health. A better future. My life.

The first time, it started in my living room, with me coughing dangerously hard and no one around. I rushed myself to the hospital, hoping I didn’t wreck while spewing up half of my fucking lung.

It went away a month later. Almost like there were never any black spots on my lung—like I was perfectly healthy. It just vanished and I thought I was out scot-free.

But the next time was way worse. It was months later, when John and I had been dating quite a while. It was dramatic. I hated that it even happened, but the good I got out of it was John’s loyalty. His faith and positive attitude during it all.

The OP hit me again when I turned twenty-four and had just gotten married. It progressed to a much later stage after eight months.

It came back way worse than I ever thought possible.

That day is what really made me, Shannon Hales-Streeter, the girl without a future.

“
J
ohn
, come on!” I gestured for him to hurry as I pulled open the glass door.

John fixed the silver watch on his wrist, shuffling forward as fast as possible in his dress pants and shirt. He was doing his best to keep up with me.

Not that our age difference mattered—we were only four years apart and he kept himself in great shape—but he had a more mature mindset than I did, plus I had way more energy.

I was only twenty-four, he twenty-eight, and after dating for two wonderful years, we decided to get hitched.

The cruise was a spur of the moment kind of thing and I didn’t have many friends that were free, so I chose Sonya and her boyfriend to tag alone. I didn’t want a regular honeymoon with just the two of us, and neither did John, surprisingly. We were okay with company.

At first I thought I was too young for marriage—that I needed more time—but John was with me through it all, fighting for me, paying off some of my debts though I’d repeatedly rejected his help, and being my comfort whenever I needed it. Plus he cooked the most amazing meals for me, most times without me having to ask.

I knew he was the one that could truly make me happy and support me no matter what and that’s what I needed most after all I’d been through in life. It’s what we both needed. So I didn’t hesitate to say yes when he knelt down on one knee on a ferry ride in New York City.

“Babe, you’ve gotta slow down.” He met me at the door, slipping an arm around my waist and reeling me into him, his warm lips pressing on my neck. My body warmed up and I felt a fluttery sensation at the pit of my belly as he whispered in my ear, “Save some of that energy for later.”

I blushed ridiculously hard, avoiding the conversation of the events that we both knew would take place later on that night.

“Come on, the fire dancing is about to start.” I gripped his hand, rushing forward. A crowd greeted us after we took the long corridor down and I pushed through, making sure to hold onto John’s hand during the rather annoying process.

When we finally met at the front of the deck, meeting Sonya and Danny, I released his hand to clap mine together, bouncing on my toes as a man spewed a fierce ball of fire in the air.

“Finally!” Sonya shouted over the music. She stepped to my side, cupping my face in her hands. “Guess what!”

“What?” I asked as her face turned serious.

She released my hand and held out hers, and when I spotted the large white and silver rock on her ring finger I squealed and then hollered.

“Holy fucking shit!”

A few people looked our way, some with rude glares and some laughing, but I was only one more shot glass away from being drunk out of my mind so, of course, caring was futile.

“Sonny!? Is that what I think it is?” I asked, meeting her grey irises.

She nodded, ecstatic. “It is! Danny just proposed… right at the table.” She points over me to the table we sat at for dinner only moments ago.

I look over her at Danny who smiles bashfully at me. He’s so shy, and a bit of an introvert, but he’s perfect for Sonny.

Sonny is the outgoing one, the one that will defend her own honor as well as the honor of everyone else she loves. She’s loyal as long as you are loyal to her and she doesn’t take any shit. Which is why Danny was good for her. He respected and loved her for who she truly was, despite her loud mouth and crazy attitude.

“Congrats!” John appeared over my shoulder, studying her stunning, round-cut diamond. “Man,” he said, looking at Danny who stepped to Sonny’s side. “You did good!”

Sonny nods, holding her hand out, “It’s almost better than yours, Shannon.” She busted out laughing and I gave her a sarcastic look, holding up my ring finger as if it was my middle one.

John joined her in laughter, looking down at me and saying, “I’m gonna grab us something to drink.” He looked up at Sonny and Danny. “You two want anything?”

“I’ll come with you.” Danny responded. They walked away and Sonny and I watched them momentarily depart from us with tiny smiles on our lips.

“You think it’s too soon?” Sonny asked as soon they were out of earshot. She turned in my direction, face-to-face. She had three inches of height on me, her body perfect for the modeling she wanted to pursue after college. “I mean, I know I just turned twenty-one and have my whole life ahead of me, but I love him, Shannon. I really do. When I think about my future, he’s always in it.”

I looked up at her, grinning. “Then you don’t need my approval, Sissy.” I held her shoulders. “If Danny is who you can see yourself sharing a future with, then hold onto it. People are engaged for years before they finally get married anyway. John and I just decided to go with it.” I shrug. “Do whatever makes you happy.”

She nodded, twisting the new ring around her finger. “You’re right.” She squealed, “But oh my God! Look at it!” She held her hand out, studying it in awe. “He did a good job, my Danny. At least he has good taste.”

I laughed at the way she looked toward him, watching him order drinks from the bar with so much shine and sparkle in her eyes you would have thought she was watching shooting stars.

“Come on, love bug,” I tugged on her hand, turning for the dance floor. “Let’s go dance and show them just why they want us to be their wives.”

Sonny grinned like a Cheshire cat, holding onto my hand and hurrying to the floor with me. When we met near the middle, we danced to a song by Rihanna. The beat pulsed deep in my veins, and I absorbed the bass of the music.

I drank it up, feeling it maybe a little too much.

I hadn’t noticed that John had come up behind me several seconds later, grinding against me as I shook my hips, dipping and grinding, jerking just enough for him to get hard and strain in his dress pants. My arms clasped around the back of his neck, the back of my head resting on his chest.

I started to go low again, feel him rub against me, but the urge to cough caught me by total surprise. At first I thought nothing of it. It was only one cough, right?

Wrong.

That one cough turned into two and then six.

And after six I lost count. It was a continuous cough, one I couldn’t control no matter how hard I tried. I was afraid, not because I wasn’t sure what it was, but because I knew
exactly
what it was.

Panicked, John handed me the water bottle in his hand and I downed it. It didn’t help. In fact, I think it made it worse.

Gripping my arm, he pulled me away from the dance floor, away from the watching crowd, and rushed down the empty corridor.

“Shannon, are you okay?” I heard him ask, but I couldn’t respond.

It felt like something had been lodged deep inside my throat and it wouldn’t budge. The water wasn’t loosening the stone stuck inside, nor was the way John patted my back and then lifted my hands above my head in hopes that it’d stop.

I held on tight to his arm, seeing the terror swirling deep in his eyes, the horror etched all over his now-pale face. I wanted to tell him that everything was okay, but that would have been a lie. And even though I wanted to, speaking was impossible.

A few long seconds passed before Sonny’s face appeared in front of me, her eyes drowned with just as much worry as John’s, quite possibly more.

“She can’t stop coughing!” John shouted.

“Shannon, honey, take deep breaths,” Sonny begged of me.

I nodded, doing my best to draw in those needed breaths and it worked… but only for a little while.

I released one last round of coughs and it was the worst of them all. My throat, sore and tight, felt like the claws of a tiger had scratched it. But finally the coughing eased up. I gathered breath, but when I looked down at my hand, I saw nothing but red.

My palm was covered in blood, smothered like I’d just dipped it in red paint. Sonny gasped, looking down at my hand and then up at me. Her eyes darted to the corner of my mouth and the blood that’d collected there.

“Oh my God… Shannon,” she whispered. “A-are you okay?” Never had I seen Sonny become so speechless.

And never had I seen John move so quickly. He picked me up in his arms and jetted down the corridor, bursting out the door that led to the deck and getting me to a doctor.

We stayed in that small, cramped room the whole night. Other than a sore throat I felt fine. But the results showed differently. The doctor felt it was something much worse—something he couldn’t diagnose on a boat.

We landed in Cancun and I was sent to a hospital immediately. John requested for me to see the best doctor. That doctor, of course, had no clue what was happening with me either but he had an idea, and that idea happened to be true.

Assuming it was cancer, he suggested I go to an oncologist and John requested to see the best one around. He never settled for less, a good thing sometimes.

It turned out it wasn’t cancer either, so I went back to the previous doctor who sought help from other specialists.

After spending four days and nights at the hospital and hating that I had to miss the rest of our cruise, I was finally diagnosed.

Dr. Juarez walked into the room with a clipboard in hand, shutting the door behind him as he greeted us. John hopped up, way to anxious for results. Sonny remained seated in the chair beside me, squeezing my hand hoping only for the best as Danny rubbed her back.

“Do we have good news?” John asked, nearly breathless.

Dr. Juarez’s smile faded and to avoid having to say it out right, snatch it off like a Band-Aid, he picked up his clipboard, read over it, and then lowered it, meeting my eyes.

His became somber as he said, “After running a few tests on the black masses we found on your right lung, we’ve come to the conclusion that you have what is called Onyx Pleura Disease. It is very hard to cure, but there are ways to rid you body of it.”

Sonny gasped dramatically and I’m sure she was squeezing my hand tighter but I hardly felt it.

In that moment, as Dr. Juarez explained the blood I’d coughed up on the cruise and informed me that this type of disease was extremely rare, I felt like I was drowning right there in that hospital room. Not just metaphorically, but with Sonny’s abundance of tears. John’s tears. Even Danny’s tears.

My life, just like that, seemed to be snatched away from me.

All that I fought for… all that I went through… I just couldn’t get a break. My childhood was miserable, and I basically had no opportunity to be a normal teenager or young adult, but I thought the storm had finally passed. Boy, was I wrong.

I’d just married the most wonderful man—ready to take on the world, bear his children, grow old together.

Live freely.

Blissfully.

But it was gone.

All of it, the future and all that it held for us, disappeared just like that.

Although Dr. Juarez said there were surgical ways to remove or reduce sections of my lungs and that there was a chance of it going away, I didn’t believe it.

All hope for me was lost. Then I began to ask myself…
What was the point of me being born?

Why be created just to die only twenty-four years later?

Why did I fight and claw to stay alive all those years, if there was no life to look forward to?

As I sat on that bed, blanked out and on the verge of tears, I couldn’t help but think about all the things I had yet to experience. I’d just started getting into traveling and that was because of John. He made a way for me and Sonya to live—to be happy for once—and even so, it’d taken me a while to accept that I didn’t need to be afraid of what would come the next week or month.

I wished then that I wouldn’t have hesitated. Paris. That was a goal of mine. We were supposed to travel there next. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen anymore either.

Our lives as children and teenagers were dark, lonely, and horrible. To finally have some light shone on us—to be brought out of the darkness—was a blessing. We deserved it, and during it all I was patient.

I’d pretty much become a mom to a sister that was only three years younger than me. I sacrificed so much, not only for myself, but for Sonny. For a better future for her. I worked my ass off day and night, fought for her and myself until I bled. I did it all. I was a conqueror.

I could’ve given up, but then I thought… I can’t leave her in this world alone. I was all she had left and she knew that. It almost seemed she was thinking the same as I was because in that moment our heads turned, our attention averting from Dr. Juarez to each other.

I fought hard to hold in the tears—to be strong for her—but it didn’t even last a second. Because it wasn’t pity that I saw in her eyes that day. It was grief. It was a loneliness that she knew was coming and that she didn’t want to have to prepare for.

So I broke down, hot tears streaming down my cheeks, my eyes shutting as she climbed on the bed and held onto me. I still wanted to play my role as big sister—as mom. As her guardian.

As she wept, I pulled her forehead to my chest and allowed her to soak my gown. I cried too, but not as hard as she did. She hiccupped and sobbed. Broke down like never before, but I just couldn’t manage to break the dam.

This was way worse than when we found Mom on the kitchen floor with a needle deep in her veins. Worse than when we found out our father was dead, the man that took care of us most. He looked out for us and guided us, teaching us right from wrong, but losing to his demons in the process. He had a lot of good in him. Unfortunately the bad overshadowed his kind heart.

My life… it was heart-shattering.

It whipped at my pride.

My strength dwindled and hung by a thread that night.

It was the worst night of my life.

Later that night, after Sonya and Danny booked a hotel and left to catch some sleep, John sat in a chair in the corner, no words spoken for hours. His elbows were perched on the top of his thighs, his hands covering his face.

It hurt my heart to know the pain he was in. I couldn’t see his eyes, but when I called his name, he lowered his hands slowly, finally revealing himself. His eyes reflected the chaos of the day.