Chapter 42
Price
She left me with a note.I guess that’s fair since I started the whole note-writing thing.
Be back in a few days. x
—A
It’s been a few days, and true to her promise, she’s back. The door clicks shut just after one in the afternoon. Astrid’s in school, and I’ve gone through my morning journaling, sauna, meditation, juice, and yoga ritual.
“Hey,” she says softly as I come down the stairs. “Are you leaving?”
I shake my head. “I’m going outside to walk in the grass.”
She hesitates for a second before nodding.
“I’ll carry your suitcase up first.” I kiss her before bending down to take the suitcase.
“You’re not going to ask me where I’ve been?” She follows me up the stairs.
“Do you want me to ask you?”
“I want you to care.”
“Sweetheart, I’m here for you. I’m always ready to listen or talk or … whatever you need. Giving someone space is sometimes the best way to show you care.” I set her suitcase in the closet. As soon as I turn, she’s a foot away from me.
“You left because I didn’t give you space.”
I shake my head. “What? No. I mean, yes, but—” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Baby, what more can I possibly say to make you understand? And if the answer is nothing, what can I say or do to get us past this? I can’t undo the past. I’ve promised never to leave again. I don’t blame you for anything that’s happened to me. I’ve told you that our life together with our beautiful daughter is the reason I did what I did to keep from dying so quickly.” I rub my hands over my face. “I’m … I’m so lost right now. Just tell me what I’m missing. What can I do to make things right again?”
“I went to Austin.”
My hands flop to my sides.
“Are you surprised?”
I shake my head.
“No?” She crosses her arms. “Why not?”
“Because I know you.”
Her head jerks backward. “I’m predictable?”
I step back, shaking my head. “Jesus Christ … what is going on? Who are you? What happened to my wife?”
“You abandoned her and your child!” She bites her lips together and shakes her head a half dozen times, regret pooling in her eyes.
“Say it, Amelia. We”ll never get past it if you don’t say it.”
She crosses her arms, fingernails digging into her skin. “I can’t,” she whispers. “I don’t mean it.”
Taking a step backward, I lean against the closet island. “You wouldn’t think it if you didn’t mean it a little.” I sigh, dropping my chin. “We don’t have to get through this with any sort of grace or pride. It’s okay to let go of the ugly. I can take it.”
When her gaze meets mine, I see resignation. “You left me to be with your first love. And yeah, I met her.” She frowns, shoulders slumped. “Scottie seems very kind. And she loves you. She’ll always love you. And that just … what? Is okay? But I’m the woman who apparently loves you too much. And that doesn’t feel as okay.”
I can tell from the pain in her expression that the words aren’t there, but she’s finding the best ones she can. It’s how I’ve felt since the day I was diagnosed.
“And now you’re supposedly … miraculously cured, but I don’t know that for certain because you won’t go to the doctor. You’re too busy with your new full-time job of spending the whole day going through your rituals. And I get that it’s important, but my life feels like it’s on its head. I’m trying to keep some sense of normalcy for Astrid, but nothing about our life is normal. You’re not at work. I’m tiptoeing around you because I don’t know what I can ask of you. You’re back, but it doesn’t feel like you’re really here.”
I don’t react. Not yet. There’s too much to consider. What are we doing if I can’t be her safe space and accept her raw emotions without judgment? What is the point of this marriage and our commitment to each other?
But I’m human too. The reaction I’m holding back is disbelief that she can’t see that I’m alive. Maybe Astrid’s dad doing whatever he can to stay alive is more important than anyone’s feelings. I so badly want to let those words fly off my tongue.
But I don’t.
“I’m an awful person,” she whispers. “Because I want to go back to the life we had before your diagnosis, but we can’t. I wish I could un-know that you bought that apothecary. But I can’t. And I don’t know how to deal with these stupid thoughts and insecurities that won’t go away. I’m so sorry.”
I take two long strides and pull her into my embrace. “I got the diagnosis, but you’ve felt just as much pain. I don’t want you to apologize. Not ever. The ‘sickness and health’ part of marriage is hard to comprehend until we’re in the trenches with no good way out.”
When I step back to hold her at arm’s length, I focus on her tired, sunken eyes and prominent cheekbones. What is this doing to her health?
The stress.
The worry.
The guilt.
“Maybe it’s time for me to put on a suit and return to work for a few days a week. Give you some sense of normalcy again.”
She glances around uneasily, eyebrows pulled together. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to judge an idea as good or bad until you try it.”
After a few breaths of hesitation, she nods. “Promise to let me know if you’re feeling too much stress or unwell in any way?”
So many promises. It will be hard to keep them if anything goes wrong. Still, I smile and offer several tiny nods.
Relief washes over her face, and she hugs me. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight. Astrid’s been asking for pizza and ice cream.”
“That’s …”
The beginning of the end.
“Great. Sounds great.”
“Can you do me one more tiny favor?” She leans back, holding up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
“Anything.”
“Will you go to the doctor?”
I’mthe only one in the room who is not surprised by the results of the scans.
Not surprised that they don’t detect cancer in my liver.
Not surprised that there’s only one tumor left in my pancreas, and it’s tiny.
“It’s rare, but sometimes we see situations like this that we can’t explain,” Dr. Faber says.
Situations.
Can’t explain.
I gave my body exactly what it needed, and it’s been healing. Why does that only make sense to me? Oh, that’s right … it didn’t make sense to me before I experienced it—before I became the miracle.
So, I don’t need Dr. Faber to bend a knee and admit that there might be more than one way to fight cancer. Even if I’m living proof, it doesn’t make me an expert.
Maybe it is nothing more than something rare and unexplainable.
I’m alive. My cancer is nearly gone—no more symptoms.
Do the details matter anymore?
If Amelia and the doctors want to call it a miracle from God, go for it. Really, I don’t care. I’m not looking to preach on the matter or write a book.
My wife wipes her happy tears.
“We can treat the remaining tumor,” Dr. Faber says.
I give her a look like she’s lost her fucking mind.
With a tight smile, she nods slowly. “Or we can recheck things in a few months.”
Or I can walk out of here and be done with this. No more poking, prodding, and scanning my body.
Amelia squeezes my hand as if prompting me to speak.
“Thank you for your time.” I stand. “If we have any more questions, we know how to reach you.”
“We’ll schedule a follow-up,” Amelia says while hiking her purse onto her shoulder.
“Or you can send me a reminder card like my dentist.” I give the doctor a toothy grin.
As soon as we exit the building, Amelia screams and jumps up and down.
Okay, this right here makes the follow-up appointment totally worth it. I haven’t seen her this excited since she discovered she was pregnant with Astrid.
“Baby! You’re going to live!” She throws herself into my arms.
I chuckle. “One day at a time.”
Truth? I don’t know how long this will last.
She kisses me over and over again, giggling like our daughter. “I know. Thank you. I wanted to believe that you were better, but knowing it for sure is exactly what I needed. We have to celebrate. I’m going to invite everyone.” She takes my hand and pulls me toward the car.
I hope that my body can feed off of her happiness because it feels like we’re slipping back into the same life that allowed me to get sick in the first place.