46. Noah
46
Noah
Z oey is fast asleep in my arms as we wait for Dr. Sanchez to return with the results of her final blood test. It’s been an exhausting five weeks, and if it was that shitty for me, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it’s been for Zo. But she’s held it together, keeping a smile on her face despite wanting to cry.
She’s been telling me she feels like she’s getting stronger, but I know she’s lying. She’s exhausted—emotionally, physically, and mentally—but she’s not ready to give up. I think she’s been trying to manifest good results, willing it into existence, but we’ve all seen Nurse Kelly’s grim expressions. There should have been a change by now, some kind of indication that the chemotherapy has been working, but so far . . . nothing.
Zoey is getting weaker, and the dizziness is coming more frequently, but the chemo . . . fuck. We thought that the first dose would be the hardest to get through, but with each new dose, it kills her just a little bit more. She cried and sobbed while throwing up, and then she just slept. She’s been so tired, and at this point, I don’t know if it’s the drugs or the leukemia.
Either way, she’s suffering, and I don’t fucking like it.
When she first arrived at the cancer center, she spent hours on her laptop, typing away. She won’t share what she’s working on, but it’s been keeping her mind busy, which is a good thing. On chemo days, she doesn’t have much energy, so she usually puts her computer away after a few hours of work.
On her rest days though, she’s been living on her laptop like it’s going out of fashion. She’ll do whatever it is she’s doing with my old phone resting on her lap while I sit in the chair beside her bed, trying to listen to my college lectures.
My world has been put into perspective since Zoey got her diagnosis. College and football don’t mean anything to me right now. Though, I still push through it because Zoey wants me to. If I lost my position on the team because I was missing too many classes or training sessions to be here, she would be devastated, but being here to hold her hand through all of this is the only thing that matters to me. Like I told her at the start, there will always be another football team or another college, but there will never be another Zoey Erica James.
She’s my everything, my heart, my love, and I will burn my world to ashes if it means getting to hold her through her darkest days. There will be time for college and football later—after Zoey is well again.
Hazel moves around the room, packing up all of Zoey’s things, but it won’t be for long. These things will be right back here in a few weeks when she starts her next round of chemotherapy. And fuck, I need it to work.
I don’t know how to breathe without her. If chemo doesn’t work and she has to leave this world, my life wouldn’t be worth living.
With Dr. Sanchez due to come back soon, Zoey’s parents make their way back into Zoey’s room. They’ve been working around the clock, trying to be here every chance they get while also doing everything possible to hold on to their jobs. But truth be told, at this point, I don’t think they give a shit about their jobs anymore. They just want to be here for their daughter, and I want that for them too, but without their jobs, they’ll lose the insurance to cover all of Zoey’s medical expenses. It’s a fucking brutal world we live in.
“How’s she doing?” Henry asks, his gaze lingering on his little girl.
“Pretending it’s not as bad as it really is,” I tell him, not wanting to sugarcoat anything.
“I know,” he says with a heavy breath. “She’s trying not to worry us.”
“It’s stupid. She should be focusing on herself, not how we’re coping with it. We’ll be fine as long as she’s getting the help and medicine she needs.”
Erica scoffs, moving Zoey’s bag off the seat beside the bed and getting comfortable. “Try telling her that,” she says, glancing my way. “I swear, Zoey is as stubborn as they come. She learned that from you, you know?”
I smirk. I’m all too aware of all the bad habits I taught her growing up.
“So,” I say, pulling Zoey in even tighter against my chest. “Any idea what she’s been doing on that laptop?”
Erica laughs. “Oh, I have my suspicions, but she’ll kill me if I share them with you. So until she decides she’s ready to let you in on the big secret, I’ll be keeping my mouth shut.”
Damn it. “It was worth a try.”
Zoey’s dad starts helping Hazel with the cleanup, and as he scoops up my old phone and slides it into her bag, he pauses, a heaviness in his eyes. “Noah, I . . .” his words trail off as if unable to find the right ones. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for all that you’re doing for my little girl. Without you here, giving her the strength to keep fighting—”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else, sir,” I tell him. “From the day I first met her, I knew I was going to walk my life right beside her. If she’s happy, I’m happy, and if she’s suffering, then I’m suffering too. We’re two halves of the same whole, and I know I’ve told you that before, but it doesn’t make it any less true. She’s my world, and if being here every day to hold her hand is what she needs, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
He nods, that heaviness still right there in his eyes—eyes that look so similar to his daughter’s. “Either way, I appreciate you,” he tells me. “I know I haven’t made life easy for you over the last year, but there’s no denying how happy you’ve made her.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her,” I say just as Zoey begins to stir in my arms. She yawns, and the soft, pained groan that follows shatters me.
“Mmmmm,” she moans, opening her eyes and peering into the brightness of her room before glancing up at the clock. “Shit. I didn’t mean to sleep that long.”
“You’re fine, Zo,” I tell her, brushing my fingers over her waist, terrified of the thought I might never get to hold her again.
She looks around her room, taking in the empty walls and lack of flowers. “Has Dr. Sanchez been in yet? Is it time to go?”
“Not yet,” Erica says, leaning forward in her chair to grab Zoey’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “She should be here any minute with your results for the first phase of your chemo, then we’ll be able to take you home and figure out our next steps.”
Zoey nods and presses against my chest for leverage to help herself up, and I can’t help but notice just how weak she is in her movements. She rubs her eyes as I reach for her bottle of water and press it into her hands, despite not being asked for it. She’s not the best at remembering to have water, so whoever is closest is on water patrol. Every twenty minutes, force her to have at least a few sips, even if it means getting your head bitten off. Same goes for food, though that task has been a little more challenging, especially on chemo days.
Zoey is just finishing her small sips of water and handing me back the bottle when Dr. Sanchez walks in, and she immediately grips my hand like it’s her only lifeline. Her eyes go wide and hopeful, though I see the doubt swimming deep within them.
We already know how this is going to go.
“Please tell me there’s good news,” Zoey begs, her voice already breaking.
Dr. Sanchez looks at Zoey, and the heartbreak in her eyes tells us exactly what we need to know. Zoey whimpers before the doctor says a word and we watch as she takes a seat at the end of Zoey’s bed, gently squeezing her foot. “I’m sorry, Zoey,” she tells her in a pained tone. “The results of your blood tests have confirmed that this round of chemotherapy hasn’t been successful. There are still high counts of leukemia cells in your bone marrow, which, unfortunately, means that you are not yet in remission.”
Zoey cries and turns into me, crushing her face into my chest as I hold her, fearing the worst as the doctor’s words play on repeat in my head.
The chemo didn’t work. She’s not getting any better.
Erica cries, sobbing into her hands as Hazel rushes into her father’s arms, crying as though she’s already lost her.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask, being the only one among us who has the strength to voice the one question that’s circling each of our minds.
Dr. Sanchez gives me a warm smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “First and foremost, we need to allow Zoey’s body some time to rest. There’s only so much chemotherapy one’s body can handle at a time. She’ll get a few weeks to recover, then we’ll get her back in to start a second round of chemotherapy at a higher dosage.”
“A higher dosage? Does that mean it will be more intense?” Erica questions with fear in her eyes, knowing how much suffering Zoey has been through this first round, but to be more intense? Fuck! I don’t know if Zoey has the strength to push through. This round tore her to shreds.
“Yes,” Dr. Sanchez says with a regretful nod. “It will be more intense. Her leukemia is very aggressive, and over the past five weeks, it has shown that it’s not going to give up without a fight. The leukemic cells are developing quicker than anticipated, so we need to be prepared for that. There’s also a good chance that in these next few weeks of her recovery phase, the cancerous cells will begin to spread. So we’ll require Zoey to come in for regular testing. It’s important that we keep a close eye on any progression her cancer may have so we can make adjustments to her treatment plan as necessary.”
“What happens if that fails?” Zoey asks, her voice muffled by my shirt.
“Then we start looking into alternate options,” Dr. Sanchez says.
Zoey’s father shakes his head as if unable to comprehend what’s being said. “But . . . If she were to fail her next round of chemo and her cancer continues to spread, will she have the time or strength to even attempt those alternate treatments?” he asks, a gut-wrenching fear in his tone. “The chemo clearly didn’t work this time around. So why not try those alternate routes now?”
Fuck. I don’t even want to think about what it could mean if this next round were to fail.
Dr. Sanchez shakes her head. “At this point, chemotherapy is still Zoey’s best chance of fighting this. I know this is a lot to take in, and it is a devastating setback. However, we’re still confident in Zoey’s treatment plan. It’s just going to be a slightly longer road we need to travel.”
My gut twists with unease, but I hold myself together as I clutch Zoey tightly in my arms, my hand roaming up and down her arm.
A heavy silence fills the room as we all digest exactly what’s been said and what this means for Zoey. Dr. Sanchez stands, clutching her clipboard to her chest. “For now, Zoey, you’re free to go home and get some well-needed rest. I’ll be contacting your parents sometime tomorrow with an updated treatment schedule, and in the meantime, you know I’m only one call away. If you have any questions, worries, or doubts, don’t hesitate to contact me. Whether it’s a quick call or you need to drop in for an appointment.”
Zoey nods, devastation clouding her soft green eyes. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
Dr. Sanchez steps forward, squeezing her foot again. “I know this is disheartening, Zoey, but I need you to hold on to that fighting spirit. Take the next few days to be sad, get it all out of your system, then remind yourself just how strong you are. You’ve already survived this once before and made it through your first round. When you return in a few weeks, you’ll be ready and in the right mindset to beat this thing. I know you can do this, Zoey.”
She forces a small smile, but the heartbreak wins out and she crumbles again. “I’ll be ready,” Zoey promises her.
With that, Dr. Sanchez quickly speaks with Zoey’s parents as Kelly pops in to say goodbye, though it won’t be long until we see her again. Erica helps Zoey out of her bed, and her father quickly rushes to her side, curling his arm around her waist to help take her weight, and the fiercest jealousy cuts through me. I promised her that I would always be the man to catch her when she fell.
Instead, I grab her bags, and before I know it, she’s back in her parents’ car, heading back to East View. It’s a long fucking day filled with overwhelming sadness, grief, and helplessness, and by the time night has fallen and Zoey is asleep in my arms, tucked into her bed, I can barely breathe.
After making sure she has everything she needs, I slip out from beneath her before pulling the blanket right up to her chin, keeping her warm and watching the way she snuggles into her pillow. When she’s asleep like this, so at peace, it’s hard to comprehend how the cancer is pulsing through her body and poisoning her from the inside out.
Feeling myself starting to break, I silently move across Zoey’s room and slip out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind me before dashing down the stairs and heading straight out the backdoor. I barely get a step out into the night before I fall to my knees, gasping for air as my eyes grow watery.
She’s not getting any better. The chemo was supposed to work. It was supposed to breathe new life into her and give her a fighting chance, but now we’re back to step one. Only this time, the leukemia has had a chance to grow and spread through her precious body.
That round of chemo tore her to shreds. How the hell is she supposed to endure another, more intense round?
Fuck. I’ve never ached like this in my life. I’m trying to hold myself together for her, to be the fucking hero she needs, but seeing her like this is killing me. I’d give anything to take away her pain, to put myself in her place. I would endure it all if it meant saving her from this hell.
Finally catching my breath, I fall to my ass with my back up against the wall of the house. Then despite not touching a single cigarette since Zoey showed me how to find peace, I pull one out of my pocket and light it up, desperately breathing it in.
My hands shake as my world slowly crumbles around me. I feel like I’m screaming out for help, but no one is coming because Zoey is my salvation. She’s my savior, and now she needs me to be hers, but I don’t know what I can do to make her pain go away. She needs me to save her, and all I can do is stand back and watch her leukemia spread, slowly pulling her away from me, no matter how hard I hold on.
I’ve been sitting outside for over an hour when I hear the backdoor open. Lifting my head from my knees, I find Zoey looking down at me, and as I go to get up, she walks right into me and steps over my legs, dropping straight down into my lap.
Her arms wrap around my neck as I hold on to her, so damn terrified to let go.
“We’re going to be okay,” she promises me, leaning right in and resting her head against my shoulder. “I love you too much to leave this world yet. I’m not going anywhere, Noah. You’re my bestest friend, and there is still so much I want to experience with you. You’ll see, you still have a million more years to drive me crazy. I’m not nearly done loving you yet.”
My hand brushes over her hair and down her cheek, feeling the wetness of her tears. I should be the one comforting her, not the other way around. “Nothing would make me happier,” I tell her. “We’re going to have it all, Zo. Just you and me until the end of time.”