One More Day (23 page)

"It's ok," Maria said.  "Not a lot of men with the balls to cry over a friend."  She rubbed his shoulder gently.  "Bet there's a million women out there who'd love to meet a man who can care that deeply.  You gonna be ok to drive?"

"Yeah," he said.  "I gotta put a sign on the door, and do a few things.  All our clients know about Mack."

"How can I help?"

"Willing to make a few phone calls?" he asked.  "Need to cancel some appointments."

"Yeah," she said.  "And when I get my next tattoo, I know where I'm coming."

He wrinkled his brow.  "You have a tattoo?"

She nodded.  "A rod of Asclepius on my ankle."

"Fitting," he said.  "And the right symbol."

"Educated too," she said, tugging him to his feet.  "This place isn't quite what I expected."

He sighed.  "She gonna be able to draw?"

"Eventually.  She'll just sleep the first few days, most likely."

"Then we'll have to get her upstairs," he said to himself.  "And long T-shirts, so she won't rub the cut."

"Incision," Maria corrected without thinking.  "Sorry."

"No, you're good," he said, smiling.  "That's how we learn.  She's fuckin' getting over this shit.  Not an option."

Chapter 24

The bike whined as he flew down the highway, wind whipping across his shoulders.  He flicked on the blinker, checked his blind spot, and moved over a lane, slowing down just enough to make the exit, then sped up again.  He hit the light at green, leaning deep into the corner, and looked for the next turn.  He knew where she was.  He knew how weak she was.  All he wanted to do was make sure she knew she wasn't alone before they knocked her out.

Pulling into the parking lot, he found an empty space and dropped the stand, twisting and pulling the key out in a practiced motion, hurrying in the door as he peeled the helmet from his head.  He hated hospitals, always had.  The sterile smell of them, the hushed voices, all of it made him remember the time his mother had spent there.  Too many years he'd played in the halls, trying not to be a problem.

It'd been a nurse who gave him the poetry by Lord Byron.  He'd spent hours trying to understand the deeper meaning of each poem, giving him something to think about besides his mother's death.  He knew most of them by heart now.  The one Mack had quoted was the worst.  Maybe the most beautiful, but also the most painful.

"Can I help you?" a woman asked.  Across the desk, in large brass letters, was the word "Information".

"What room is Mackenzie Lawrence in?"

She glanced at a screen and typed in the name.  "Fourth floor, room 427.  Just take that elevator up and turn right, then ask as the first nurse's desk."

"Thanks," he said, taking the three steps to the elevator and pressing the button.  It dinged almost immediately, the doors sliding open.  An older man stepped off, holding the door for Ryan.  With a polite nod, he took his place, pressing the button. 

He wanted to pace, but held himself still.  He wanted to ask what she'd been thinking, but he knew.  Deep down, he knew Mack was just trying to protect them.  He knew it had to be bad, but he was going to keep hoping.

When the doors opened, he turned right, wanting to run, but held himself to a fast walk.  He found the curved desk easily and set his helmet on it, rubbing at his disheveled hair, hoping someone would appear soon.

"Can I help you?" a kind faced woman asked, walking up the hall.

"Looking for Mackenzie Lawrence?"

"Hm," she said, moving around the counter.

"Did he say Mackenzie?" a woman asked from around the corner.

"Yeah," the nurse called back.

Wheels squeaked, and a plump woman in maroon scrubs walked through a door at the side.  She paused.  "Let me guess, Ryan?"

"Yeah?"  He hoped that was a good sign.

"She's in surgery."

"Fuck," he breathed.  "K."

"Dr. Janis said I'm to update you on her condition.  You want to come with me?"  She waved him to follow and walked down another hall, pausing at a door, then pushed it open.  Inside were a handful of chairs and a television, some game show flickering across the screen.

"That bad?" Ryan asked.

The nurse sat, gesturing for Ryan to do the same.  "Not really.  The last round of imaging found a few dark spots that hadn't been seen before.  Unfortunately they were on the other side.  They're removing her uterus, cervix, and a portion of the vaginal vault.  Do you know what that means?"

Ryan nodded.  "Yeah.  What's the chance of clear margins?"

She smiled.  "I see you've done your homework.  Good.  Dr. Janis is thorough.  Problem is, with the type of cancer she has, there's always the possibility that it's already spread.  She'll need four weeks of recovery, and then it's back to chemoradiation."

"Prognosis?"

She sighed.  "I can't tell you yet.  We won't have that until pathology is done.  Ryan, with both lymph nodes being affected, the chance of a full recovery decreases.  If it's already spread..."

He closed his eyes and took a long breath.  "Yeah."

"Mackenzie didn't take you off the emergency contact information, but she told me what she did."

He nodded.  "She's trying to protect us.  I get it.  She just quoted the wrong poem."

"What?"

"Never mind."  He waved that away.  "So how do we improve her chances?"

"Studies show that the patient's outlook has a lot to do with it.  When she spoke to the doctor, she said she wanted to get better so she could beg you to forgive her."

"Shit, Mack," Ryan breathed.  "She's always gotta do it on her own, you know?"  He sighed.  "I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Theresa, I'm her nurse."

"Thanks," he said.  "There's gonna be a freak of a man coming soon.  Tall, bald guy with a piercing through his nose covered in tattoos?"

"Is that her boss?"

Ryan smiled a bit at that.  "Nah.  I'm the boss.  Colby's just her best friend."

"Oh," Theresa said.  "Ok.  Well, Mackenzie was pretty upset, so we gave her quite a few extra meds.  The doctor is a bit worried about where she's going when she's released."

"Home," Ryan said.  "I'll talk to her, but even if she just stays with Colby and doesn't want to talk to me again, we're still taking care of her."

She sighed, and nodded.  "K.  It'll probably be about four days before she's released."

"Oh shit," Ryan said, realizing something.  "She still hasn't told her dad."

"I don't even have a father listed."

"Any way I can get in her room?" Ryan asked with a pleading smile.  "I need her phone."

"Yeah," she said, patting his shoulder.  "We can only have one visitor at a time with the patients, but you can trade out with, Colby is it?"  Ryan nodded, so she went on.  "This is the visitor's lounge.  Those chairs at the side pull out into what they call beds.  Uncomfortable as hell, but you two are welcome to them."

She stood and gestured for Ryan to follow, leading him into a barren room.  Mack's things were set at the side, but the bed was gone, leaving a vacant gap.  Ryan opened her bag and grabbed her phone, sliding it into his pocket.

"She won't need it," he said, "and I will.  Any idea how long until she's back?"

"Three, maybe four hours?"

He sighed.  "You have coffee?"

"None brewed, but we can do that."

"Is it any good?" he asked.  "Or should I bring some to share?"

Theresa chuckled.  "It's really bad.  We have powdered creamer, and just about any sweetner you could ask for, though."

"Have a fridge?"

"Small one in the visitor's lounge.  I take it you're about to become a permanent fixture?"

"I'm not leaving her alone," Ryan said.  "My mom died without any one to take care of her but a lost little boy.  Mack deserves better."

"Well, I'll let them know at the desk.  You need anything, just ask, ok?"

She'd barely left the room when Ryan started making calls.  He told Colby to grab the phone charger, pick up coffee and cream, plus a few things for lunch.  While he didn't give him the full details, he did explain that it would be hours before Mack was out of surgery.

The next two calls he made were harder.  Flipping through Mack's contact list, he found the number for her mother.  He pressed the button and the phone rang four times before someone finally answered.

"What?" a blurred voice asked.

"Is this Ms. Lawrence?  Mackenzie's mother?"

"Who the fuck are you?" she snapped.  "Ain't been Lawrence in years."

"Sorry, look, I'm afraid I don't know your name - "

"Then why the hell are you calling me?"

"Mackenzie's sick," he said.

"Then tell her to fucking deal with it."  The woman groaned.  "Fucking kids, always wanting a handout."

"She has cancer," Ryan said.  "She's in surgery right now.  I thought you might like to know.  She doesn't need anything, I just thought you might like to know."

"Well, I ain't paying for her funeral," the woman snapped.  "Fucking piece of shit never did anything for me."

Ryan sighed.  "Don't worry, she has people who love her.  I just thought you might have cared.  Have a nice fucking day."

He hung up and fought the urge to throw the phone.  If anything, Mack had downplayed her feelings for her mother.  He reminded himself that he was being the good guy and looked up the number for her father.  Pressing the button, he hoped this call would be different.

"Mack?" a man asked, the sound of wind in the background.  "Lemme roll up the window, I can't hear shit."

"Mr. Lawrence?" Ryan asked.

"Hang on!"

The wind sound dimmed until it was finally gone.  "Sorry, what was that?"

"Is this Mackenzie's father?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah.  Who's this, and why are you on her phone?"

"Ryan," he said.  "Her boyfriend.  Are you driving?"

"Yeah, boy.  Mack ok?"

"Look, can you find a place to pull over and call me back?"

Silence hung between them for a long moment.  "She's not dead is she?" he asked.

"No, but I think you might not want to be driving when we talk."

"Yeah.  I got an exit in a mile.  I'll call you right back."

The phone went dead, and Ryan looked at it, waiting.  It took two minutes, but it rang.  "Yeah?" Ryan answered.

"Ok.  This is Doug, Mack's dad.  What was your name, boy?"

"Ryan," he said.

"And you're dating my little girl?  You knock her up or something?"

"No," Ryan said.  "I wish that was all.  Mr. Lawrence, Mack has cancer."

He heard the man take a breath, then the sound of air brakes.  "How bad?"

"She's in surgery right now," Ryan said.  "It's serious, but I can't tell you much more than that."

"Won't or can't?"

"Can't," Ryan said.  "Cervical cancer, stage IIB, she's having a hysterectomy, and they hope it'll get it all.  So, it's a waiting game.  Any way you can get back here?"

"It'll take me a couple of days," Doug said.  "I gotta drop this trailer today, then it's like a day and a half back.  Who's taking care of my little girl?"

"I am," Ryan said.  "Well, Colby and I, her friend."

"Mack, Mack, what are you doing," Doug muttered to himself.  "Boy, she ain't real happy with me lately, you sure she wants to see me?"

"No," Ryan said honestly, "but if it was me, I think this would make me forgive a whole lot.  She doesn't know I'm calling."

"Is she gonna be ok?" he asked, trying hard to sound tough.

"I don't know," Ryan said.  "I honestly don't know, sir."

He chuckled at that.  "Sir.  That's what the guys who want to marry the girl say."

"Yeah," Ryan said softly.  "I ain't got the far with her, yet.  She's had a few other things on her mind."

"Just take care of my baby girl till I can get there?" Doug begged.

"Yes, sir.  I'm also going to text you my number.  She won't be answering hers for a couple of days."

"Thanks, boy."

He hung up the phone and leaned back.  He didn't know who else would need to know, but he needed something to do to keep him busy.  He was also getting a pretty good headache from his lack of caffeine.  He pulled off his jacket and laid it beside the helmet, then walked back into the hall.  Trying to remember his way in, he found the nurse's desk.

"There a coke machine around here?" he asked.

"Turn right, one block, and then left," a woman said, pointing without raising her head from the chart in front of her.

"Thanks.  Any of you need anything?" he asked.

She looked up and her eyes widened, glancing down his arm.  "No, but thanks for asking," she said with a smile.

He was walking away when he heard her voice speaking to another woman.

"Who the hell is that?"

"427's boyfriend," another woman said softly.  "He's gonna be around a few days, so learn to stop drooling."

"Ho-ly shit," the woman whispered.

Ryan shook his head.  Maybe Mack was right, and his tattoos weren't getting the wrong response.  All his life he'd tuned out what came after the shocked look at his brightly colored skin, assuming he was branded as a loser, but Mack swore he was wrong.  She kept saying he was sexy, and that the women were checking him out, not writing him off.  Not that he cared.  He only wanted one woman, but it was kinda nice to not feel like the scourge of society for a bit.

He fed the dollar into the machine and popped the top, sucking back a long gulp.  Making sure to smile kindly at the nurses, he returned to the visitor's room.  He'd called her mom and dad, he'd talked to Colby, what else could he find to occupy him for the next four hours?  He glanced up at the television just in time to see a commercial for funeral insurance.

It felt like his heart stopped and all the wind slid from his lungs.  He dropped more than set the coke on the table.  Mack could really die from this.  He couldn't imagine a life without her, and he'd taken too long.  He could barely take a breath and felt his legs slowly giving out beneath him.  With a sob, Ryan pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, and lost the last semblance of control in his life.