Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
JADEN
Dr. Becker is sitting across from me in his white coat, smiling at me kindly. My file is lying on the desk in front of him, but I don’t look at it.
Instead, I look at Nyla, who is squeezing my hand and silently forming the words step by step with her lips.
‘Mr Reynolds,’ the doctor begins cautiously, and I feel my stomach clench. ‘We have the test results.’
So this is it. In a moment I’ll find out whether I’m really ill and, if so, what my chances are. How long my path back to a healthy body might be – or whether there isn’t one.
Either way, Nyla will be with me, and that’s the most important thing.
The doctor folds his hands. ‘As Dr. Moore suspected, it’s a Hodgkin lymphoma.’
Until now there was still a chance that Nyla was wrong, that it wasn’t cancer at all, and even though I didn’t want to cling to that, I feel as if I’ve lost my life buoy and am drifting on the open sea. Completely at the mercy of the tides.
For a moment all I hear is the hum of the fluorescent tube above us. I stare at the wood grain of the table, as if I could find something in it that would tell me how I’m supposed to react. Then I look at Nyla; she gives me an encouraging nod.
We’ve discussed the options, and there are many. But one thing is certain: that we’ll make Lilly’s and our two dreams come true for as long as we can.
‘How far advanc—?’ My voice fails me.
‘That’s the good news.’ Dr. Becker’s expression has something calming about it. ‘We caught it very early, and it’s a lymphoma that responds well to treatment.’
I let out the air that has built up inside me over the last few minutes and drift off into my thoughts.
Cancer, I think, and only now do I begin to grasp it. And at the same time I think: cure. Both words side by side. Opposites that should cancel each other out, and yet somehow add up to hope.
Nyla wraps her arms around me, kisses my cheek. ‘Did you hear that?’ she asks me excitedly. ‘Ninety percent.’
Ninety percent? I turn my head toward her, looking at her questioningly.
‘Your chance of a cure.’ A confident smile plays around her lips. ‘Ninety percent.’
Ninety percent, echoes inside me as Nyla hugs me tightly. Camee had seventy, from the start, and if Nyla hadn’t fought so hard for me to get examined, in half a year or a year I would have had the same chance as my sister.
‘What do you want to do, my superhero?’ Nyla asks, and I feel that she won’t push me. That she’ll accept my decision.
Even if there is a residual risk. Now, in this moment, I understand that Nyla has probably saved my life. I pull her closer to me, bury my face in her neck, feel her heartbeat, breathe in the scent of her skin.
‘I’m not the hero between the two of us,’ I whisper in her ear, my voice choked. ‘You are.’
I feel her exhale shakily, then I pull away from her so I can look at her.
‘We can start treatment next week,’ I hear Dr. Becker say, as if from far away. ‘Outpatient therapy, we’re planning four cycles, that should be enough.’
My gaze still rests on Nyla, who is looking at me with so much hope in her eyes. We both know that now it’s time for my next step, my next decision.
‘I can set everything necessary in motion right away,’ Dr. Becker says.
I stroke Nyla’s cheek, trace her elfin features, imagine what awaits us. It won’t be easy, sometimes even pretty hard, but there will also be good times. Moments we’ll remember for the rest of our lives. Happiness we’ll feel all the way down to our toes.
‘Yes, please, do that,’ I reply, and watch Nyla’s eyes fill with tears.