Authors: Adriane Leigh
But cancer isn't
forgiving, or discerning, or fair.
I
sat muddled and desperate for a miracle in the waiting room, all too
aware that sooner or later my miracles were bound to run out.
Three
months after my life fell apart one snowy Christmas night, it
crumbled again when Dr. Blair stepped into his office, a look of
resignation on his face.
The
cold settled into my bones when the oncologist reluctantly stated
that the cancer had metastasized into the lymph nodes. My vision
fragmented and my breathing became shallow. My lungs screamed for air
as the synapses in my brain fired off with broken pieces of a life I
loved.
The
doctor used words like aggressive and chemotherapy. Long term
likelihood and side effects. I'd dodged one bullet last summer, but
maybe it had been the bullet that had done me in. I suddenly wondered
if I'd chosen the wrong oncologist. Maybe if I'd gone to Detroit I'd
have found a better one that recommended chemotherapy from the
beginning and this cancer wouldn't have come back.
But
it had. My hands shook before I bolted out of the chair and left his
office. He and a nurse trailed into the waiting room after me, and
the last words I heard as the heavy glass-paned door slammed was,
"Call to schedule first round."
I didn't want it,
didn't want any of it. Impossible. Not right. I was only twenty-eight
years old. I wanted her. Wanted Auburn, but I'd chosen not to tell
her about the radiation last summer to save her, and I would do it
again. She'd left, moved on, and I'd continued, I'd been working to
get her back, divorcing Mel and talking to the superintendent, but
with one word, everything fell apart.
Metastasized.
That
same day I walked into the superintendents's office and took a leave
of absence, effective immediately. I hadn't told him about the
radiation last summer, and apparently I'd hidden it well. For once
the summer rush of tourists had paid off, it was easy to get lost
three times a week for a half hour each time in Traverse.
He'd
sat dumbfounded, as I turned and left his office. I wouldn't answer
questions, couldn’t bear to get the words out, I needed to sit with
this myself, so I just kept moving.
I started
treatments the following week. Driving every day to Traverse by
myself, letting them pump my veins with toxins to rid the diseased
cells from my body. I hunched over my own toilet, weak and shaking,
sick from the chemicals that were constantly fed into my bloodstream
to kill something I couldn't even see.
And I dreamed of
her. On the rare moments at night that my mind could focus and the
shaking and sweats didn't obscure my vision, I read. I read “Lolita”
and “To the Lighthouse” and “The Sun Also Rises.” I filled
her bookshelf with the volumes I knew she'd love, and I survived.
By
week two of treatment everyone in town knew I'd taken a leave of
absence. Mel was calling at all hours of the day and night, and each
time I sent her to voicemail. It wasn't long before my inbox had
filled and would no longer accept new messages. The urge to throw my
phone away was powerful, but somewhere in the back of my mind I still
hoped
she
would call.
And yet, when I
saw her name pop up on the caller ID, I was surprised.
"Auburn."
I answered, my voice shaking as I lay in bed, a book in my weakened
hands.
"Why did you
take a leave of absence?" She cut straight to the point. I would
have cringed, but the happiness pulsing through my veins overpowered
all else.
"It's
good to hear from you too." I hummed, momentarily forgetting
everything but her.
"Are you
okay?" Her concerned voice melted my insides. I missed her.
Fuck, it felt like my chest was caving in I missed her so much.
"No,
I'm not okay." I couldn't lie to her anymore. I had one regret
this summer, one thing that haunted me, not telling her.
"What's going
on?" The fear ratcheted another notch in her voice.
"Can you come
over?"
Auburn was at my
door less than two hours later. She held me and we cried on my couch
while I stroked her back and explained the details, including the
timeline of treatment and prognosis, and I finally confessed that I'd
been through this once before.
"Why didn't
you tell me?" Her eyelashes were heavy with her tears.
"I
didn't know what the outcome would be, Auburn. I still don't. I can't
promise you forever," I said, quietly.
"Reed."
She breathed as fresh tears flooded her eyes. She cupped my
rough-shaven cheeks in her palms. "I don't care about forever.
Forever is relative. I'm staying with you because I love you."
She placed a soft kiss on my dry lips and my heart tightened.
"You can't
stay," I murmured, the words tearing me to pieces as I said
them.
"Too bad.
You're stuck with me." She smiled as she wiped at fresh tears.
"I
won't let you. Cancer is dirty. Chemo destroys you. I have to take
supplements because I can't keep anything down most days! I don't
want you to see that. I won't let you." I pulled away and stood
to pace. I quickly thought better when my muscles protested, causing
the room to swim. I walked to the french doors and placed a hand
against the cool pane of glass for support.
"You
should go," I rumbled, angry all over again that the cancer was
taking everything I loved. My vision swirled and darkened as I gazed
out at blinding sunlight.
"Reed!"
was the last thing I heard before my body crumbled and everything
went black.
Auburn stayed
through the remainder of my chemotherapy. She went to every
appointment I had, held me when the shakes rendered my body nearly
useless, and soothed me when I found myself sick and panting on the
bathroom floor at three in the morning, even if it meant skipping
class to do so. We fought about it, but when I saw the love and
concern in her eyes, I knew to give up the fight. She'd taken care of
her grandma all summer, she was a nurturer at heart. And so I let her
nurture.
April passed and
for my twenty-ninth birthday we shaved my head and planted ourselves
in front of the television to watch a double-header and binge on the
carrot cake she'd made for me. I'd only managed a small sliver before
my stomach had twisted in protest, but still, it was my favorite
birthday of all of them.
May came and
Auburn officially moved in with me. She finally confessed that her
story had been about us, and while she still wouldn’t let me read
it in full, I knew where she was headed, and I encouraged her to
continue. We worked on sections together, and we had fun. I begged
her to publish, but she shrugged me off every time, saying the story
had become too personal. I told her every day that I hoped she'd
change her mind.
Mel showed up on
our doorstep the last few weeks of my treatment, on the day our
divorce was made final. She'd taken one look at my bald head and
burst into tears, apologizing that she hadn't come to see me sooner,
and sputtering nonsense like, “I just couldn't bear to see you like
that, it's too heartbreaking.” Auburn and I had laughed and rolled
our eyes when she left, thankful to put Mel and her relentless
negativity behind us.
As May slipped
into June we celebrated the final round of treatment. My hair began
to grow back and my energy returned. I felt well. I felt alive.
Auburn stayed with me at my apartment, and between checking on her
grandma often, working at a small boutique downtown, and writing, we
stayed busy. We stayed happy. And we began to talk about our future.
On
the Fourth of July I asked her meet me at the water. When she
arrived, her eyes took in the freshly-cut clearing at the top of the
hill overlooking the bay with a quizzical head tilt.
"I'm
building us a house." I grinned and pulled the rolled up house
plans from my back pocket. Her mouth fell in shock before she rushed
to me.
"Are
you crazy?!" She planted her hands on my cheeks and kissed me.
"Crazy
for you," I murmured between soft strokes of my tongue. I nipped
at her lips as my hands trailed up her body, desperate to really feel
her again after the exhaustion of the last sixteen weeks. I knelt and
pulled her along with me, my hands planted on either side of her head
as I kissed her. I didn't care if my muscles were weak and my bones
tired, I didn't care if I'd lost thirty pounds and the sun ate at my
skin like a thousand tiny pinpricks despite the fact that I'd
slathered myself in sunscreen and worn a long-sleeved shirt.
"Reed?"
She questioned when I rocked my erection between her legs.
"I
need you," I hummed and nipped my way down her neck.
"Are
you ready?" she asked as her hands skimmed across my scalp.
"I've
been ready for seven months." I grunted and slid a hand between
us, running it up the seam of her shorts. She pulled back, caught my
eyes with hers, searching, finding what I wasn’t sure, before she
kissed me again ad slid out from beneath me. "Lay back,"
she purred, peeling her top over her head to reveal her full breasts,
concealed by wisps of red lace. My dick pounded as her nipples
hardened and pressed through the transparent design, chilled by the
soft breeze.
I
leaned back on the grass as Auburn crawled on her knees to me, eyes
sparking with a lust she'd kept hidden from me these last months, for
my own good I was sure, but it'd killed me every time she'd walked
out of the shower wrapped in a towel, my dick too weak to even think
about doing what I wanted it to. But now was I ever ready.
Auburn
slid up my body, unzipping my jeans as she passed and pushing a hand
down the denim. She connected with my cock and my body was wracked
with some blend of pleasure and desperate, aching, throbbing pain. My
hands reached for her, unhooking the button and sliding the fabric
down her thighs. No panties.
"So
beautiful,” I moaned, my hands sliding up and down the silky skin.
She kicked the shorts from her legs and slid my jeans down my hips,
revealing my rock hard erection to her. With a smile on her face she
ran her tongue up my shaft, watching it twitch and jump. She placed a
soft kiss on the tip, then continued her crawl up to my lips. My
hands twisted in her hair and I held her fiercely while I explored
her mouth with my tongue. Nestled between her thighs, she kissed me
and ground herself against my dick, rubbing at her clit, teasing me
at her entrance, and back again. I nearly lost my mind.
"Did
you bring a condom?" she murmured between breathless kisses, my
cock nestled in the hot silk between her thighs.
I
shook my head, breathless at the thought of stopping this just when I
was anxious to connect with her again. "The doctor said chemo
lowers sperm count.” I arched and jerked my hips. “I think we're
safe."
"Mmm..."
she hummed and continued to work back and forth before I caught her
hips, stilling her long enough to finally bury myself inside of her.
My head fell back and a groan vibrated from my throat. Endorphins
rushed to my brain as Auburn worked back and forth, her hands locked
around my neck, her lips trailing across my throat. I wrapped her
hair around my fist and pulled gently, bending her back so I could
feast my eyes on the beautiful body I'd missed so much. My hips set a
punishing rhythm as I took and took, something I was always doing
with her, before her hands slid down my chest, her lips landed at my
ear.
"Are
you okay?" My heart melted into a puddle at her beautiful feet.
She was worried my body couldn’t handle this so soon after
chemotherapy. I was worried my body couldn’t handle another day
without her.
"I'm
perfect.” I nuzzled at her ear and ran my palms down her waist,
across her back, to land on her bottom. She moved slower now, and as
my muscles felt the strain of overwork for the first time in too
long, I slowed my rhythm. Her soft lips trailed kisses around my
nipples and her fingernails ran delicately across my prominently
pronounced hips. I pushed one hand between her thighs and swirled at
the sensitive nerves of her clitoris while she kissed and rocked in a
sensual rhythm. It wasn't long before her legs strung tight, her
fists clutched at my neck, and she came in slow, delicious waves
around my dick, spurring on my own orgasm. With tears in my eyes I
spilled all the love I had, pumping slow and steady through my veins,
into her. She breathed life into me, and it was finally my time to
give it back. I had more hope for my future now, with her, than I
ever had in all the years that came before.