A Taylor-Made Life (28 page)

She snuggled her arms around him, and
he lay back against the headboards. Heaviness lingered in the quiet
room. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. Their clinging
bodies said it all.

I slept fitfully and woke before dawn,
cuddling against Gavin’s chest. Tears slid down my face, dampening
his T-shirt. My heart was ripping. How could I leave
him?

But Dr. Monroe’s words came back to
me.
If you don’t take the treatment now, it’s possible you’ll be
beyond the help of the transplant.

The thought we might lose everything
we’d tried to accomplish was the only thing that could force me
from Gavin’s side. And I’d felt my own body losing its life. I took
most meals in bed with him because I wanted to be with him. But
also because I didn’t have the strength to climb the stairs
anymore. The leukemia had given me sores in my mouth, and I was on
at least ten prescriptions. It took two round-the-clock nurses to
keep up with our medicine schedules.

I stayed in bed, and Zelda brought me
breakfast. Clinging close to Gavin’s chest like static electricity,
I planned on milking every last minute with him that I
could.

He stroked my freshly-shaven head. “I
love you like this. It reminds me of when we first met. That one
night you wore the wig, you didn’t look like yourself. This is the
woman I know and love.”

My chest tightened. He thought of me
as a woman, and as long as I was in his arms, I was.

He bent and kissed my scalp then my
lips. “Call me as soon as you get there and give me your room
number.”

“I will.” I glanced at the clock.
9:30. My breath became shallow, and stress tightened my
chest.

Gavin lifted my chin. “It’ll be all
right. I plan on talking to you a lot over the computer. You packed
your headset, right?”

“I got it. And I set up my Skype
account yesterday.”

“That’s what you were doing? I thought
you were checking emails.”

I shook my head. “No email in the
world was worth taking yesterday.”

I craned my neck and kissed him
deeply. He wrapped me up and kissed me back. Slow and sensual, we
lost ourselves in the timeless sweetness of our mouths
joining.

“Hey, you two—”

Gavin groaned against my lips, and I
smiled against his.

He rolled his eyes and whispered,
“Doesn’t she ever knock?”

“No.” The reality of leaving him
crashed down on me. I looped my arms around him. How was I going to
hold it together?

“Time to go, sweetheart.” Mom’s cheery
voice masked the concern I knew she felt. She’d waited as long as
she could. We were already late.

Fear strapped thick bands around me
and cinched tight. What if something happened? I’d never be able to
get to him in time. What if I never saw him again? Tears stung my
eyes. “Gavin, promise me this won’t….” A sob tore from my
lips.

“Hey.” He held me tight. “I know it’s
hard, Sweetness, but I promise. I’ll see you soon.” He kissed me
gently. “I love you.”

Comfort and warmth filled me in every
place our bodies touched. “I love you, too.” I took an unsteady
breath and gave him a tight hug before slipping from our bed and
grabbing my purse. I turned at the threshold. “You promised, Techno
Boy. I’ll see you this afternoon online.” I could barely make my
feet go.

* * * *

We checked in and settled me in the
room. After disinfecting everything I refused to live without
during my stay, including my wedding picture with Elvis, I unloaded
my electronics: my laptop, smart phone, iPod, and
E-reader.

The nurse stared wide-eyed at the pile
as she flushed my port and hooked up my IV. “How long have you had
this portacath in?”

“Since my first chemo treatment almost
two years ago.” The access point kept them from having to stick a
vein every time they needed to shove some poison in my
bloodstream.

“That’s a long time. They don’t
usually make it so long.”

“I know.” I smiled as the woman hung
the first bag of saline. It was a scene so familiar it actually
gave me comfort. “No one but your mother and father and hospital
staff will be able to come in or out. And that includes you. No
strolling down the halls.”

My heart lurched. “I know. Solitary
confinement, right?” I didn’t really want to go anywhere unless I
could see Gavin, and since that wasn’t possible…

“Your immune system will be pretty
much non-existent.” She touched my arm. Her hands were warm, and I
knew it would be the last skin on skin contact I’d get for a long
while.

I glanced over at my photo.

“Your husband’s gorgeous. I met him
once. At a hospital benefit. He looks better now.” I turned toward
her. “He looks happy.”

A knot formed in my throat. Leaving
Gavin had been the hardest thing I’d ever done. When it came time
to go, I hadn’t been sure I’d be able to pull myself away, but his
calm confidence had put my fears down.

I adjusted my bed to the just-perfect
height and reclined for optimal comfort, certain I was one of the
world’s foremost experts on hospital bed maximization.

The phone rang.

“Hello.”

A deep, sexy voice purred in my ear,
“What are you wearing?”

I rolled my eyes. “An IV.”

“Panties?”

“Gavin!”

“Well?”

I couldn’t suppress the grin. “I miss
you.”

He groaned, and my smile widened at
the need in his voice. “You too, Sweetness.”

We talked for the rest of the
afternoon and into the night. Something about being away from him
made me more talkative, like his voice was touching my ear drum and
if that was the only way we could touch, then I’d take it. Mom, who
looked like a decontaminated mummy in her sterilized hospital garb,
finally had to end our conversation so I could eat.

The next morning, the phone
rang.

“Hello.”

“What are you wearing?”

“A sexy white cotton gown that’s open
in the rear.”

“Mmm… Panties?”

“Why is my underwear situation so
important?”

“Ha! You’re not wearing
any.”

I pursed my lips, but my cheeks
flamed. The fact he thought of me
that
way, like a woman,
still made my insides flutter. “So did you eat breakfast
yet?”

“Yes, mother. My morning IV was
delicious.”

I giggled. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Each day Gavin called before sunrise
and then again before we went to sleep. We talked on Skype right
after lunch then spent the afternoon playing online
games.

Surprisingly, the next week flew
by.

But on the first morning of my second
week of chemo, the sickness hit. I heaved until my sides ached and
my body trembled. Mom stayed with me that night. I heard her
tossing on the roll-a-way bed. The baby forced her to lie on her
side, and she could barely walk without having to sit every so
often.

The doctors tried several new meds to
get rid of my nausea, but it was three days before I could eat.
Nothing like paying professionals to pump your body full of toxins,
then having to take more toxins to counter the effects.

During the next week, I talked briefly
to Gavin on the phone, but our Skype conversations were put on hold
until I could be sure I wouldn’t hurl all over my computer. The
drugs took a toll on my body, thinning my skin, and my eyebrows
fell off again. At least I didn’t have to shave my legs. I frowned.
Not that there was anyone to feel them here in Hospital
Hilton.

On the final day of the cell-killing
treatment, the sun rose and mid-morning came, but Gavin never
called.

I dialed his cell. No
answer.

I dialed his private line. No
answer.

Panic throbbed in my chest as I
frantically called the house number.

“’
ell-o.”

“Zelda?”

“Si,
Señora
Taylor.”

“Where’s Gavin?”

“Ohhh. Oh. No.” And she spewed a
string of words that I didn’t understand.

My hands shook and trembled. I could
barely speed dial Mom.

The call went to voice
mail.

“Think, Taylor.”
But the worst
thoughts kept running through my mind. My eyes stung, and my heart
rate tripped my monitor. A nurse came running.

I ignored her. “You promised, Gavin.
You promised. Don’t leave me. Not yet,” I whispered.

I fell back helplessly on my bed. My
body couldn’t take me anywhere, and my husband needed me. My head
pounded, threatening to explode. Frustrated tears burned behind my
eyes but wouldn’t fall. I slapped and pounded my hands on my bed,
my prison.

Regaining some composure, I called
Dad.

“Taylor? Are you all right, honey?”
His voice calmed my pulsing heart.

“Dad, where’s Gavin?”

“It’s okay, honey. Gavin had…an
episode, and we had to bring him to the hospital last
night.”

“Is he…okay?” The words nearly
strangled me.

“He’s stable. Your mother and Grace
are getting him settled into a room. She’ll be up to check on you
soon.”

“He’s here? Can I see him?”

“You know that’s not a good idea. I’ll
let your mother tell you more.”

“Dad, what is it?”

“They’ve stabilized him, but his lungs
are filling with fluid, and his kidneys have all but shut down.
He’s resting now. I’ve got to go, but I’ll be up after I take Grace
back to the house for a few things.”

I paced my room, rolling the stupid IV
across ugly linoleum. My range was limited by the electrical cord,
so I walked the same few feet over and over. The freaking machine
beeped at me. “Shut the fuck up,” I cursed at it.

The nurse I loved with the Irish
accent came in. “Is it chirpin’ at ya?”

“I made it mad.” Trying to have a
normal conversation in my state of panic was like sucking in a
breath underwater.

“Your dose is done, lass.”

I looked above me at the shriveled,
empty bag.

Nyla unhooked my tube and consulted my
chart. “That was your last one.”

“I’m free?” My heart thumped. “I need
to go somewhere.”

She hiked up her bushy eyebrows. “You
know you canna be wanderin’ from the room.”

“I won’t,” I lied.

I threw on my rubber-soled slippers
instead of the fuzzy ones. My hands shook so hard I could barely
tie my robe closed. Then I pulled my pink hat over my baldness and
headed out the door, germ mask in hand.

I ran smack into Mom. Actually, it was
more like I ran into a big belly and bounced backward.

“And where do you think you’re going?”
Tired eyes scolded me with a look. That mom-look that must come
with hormones.

I nibbled my lower lip and wondered if
I’d have that look with Aaron.

She stared me down, and I backed into
my room.

“You can’t stop me from going to see
my husband.” My voice wasn’t exactly convincing. My legs about
buckled, and I had to sit on the bed.

“No. I can’t. If you want to risk your
life, then I can’t stop you.” She shuffled into the room past me.
“But you better make damn sure you understand what you’re about to
see, Taylor Marie.”

Chills snaked up and down my spine,
and if I’d had any hair, it would’ve been standing on end. “What do
you mean?”

“I mean, young lady, that you will be
looking at cancer from a new perspective, and it will be a shock.”
She heaved a weary sigh and placed her hands on her back to support
herself.

“Here, Mom. Sit down.”

She backed up to a chair and fell into
it. “We’ve been in emergency since three a.m. He collapsed in the
bathroom. It was awful. And don’t ask me because…” Big, heavy drops
wept from her eyes.

“Is he okay?”

She shook her head helplessly. “No.
He’s dying. Right in front of us.”

“I’ve got to go.” Panic, grief, and
fear swirled around my head.

Mom grabbed me. “Honey, sit for a
minute. Calm down a little before you go. It won’t do Gavin any
good to see you hysterical.”

I clasped my hands to my face. Mom
handed me a box of tissue, taking one for herself. My body ached,
and my soul lay shredded. No pain or urgency I’d ever experienced
could come close to what I felt.

“Dr. Monroe says his body can’t
sustain much longer. I don’t think he’ll make it through the week.”
She sniffed and dabbed at the rolling tears.

Anguish so deep and hard bit into me.
I could’ve sworn my bones were snapping under the weight of it. My
lungs sucked in short, sharp gasps.

We cried, and, for once I cried more.
The evening sun shone in, casting an orange glow over the
room.