28 - Samantha
With spring, comesrehearsing lines with Cynthia for the school play. She’s auditioning for the lead, Mary Lennox, in this year’s production of The Secret Garden.
Mary: I hate the way you talk about dying.
Colin: Everyone thinks I’ll die.
Mary: If everyone thought that about me, I wouldn’t do it.
Harbine High school’s Drama club is doing something innovative with this classic story. They’re turning it into a musical. It should be interesting, but if anyone can pull it off, she can. Her voice is sensationally dynamic.
“I don’t want to run lines anymore.” Cynthia abruptly puts her playbook down. Something must have upset her for her to turn cold that quickly. She tries to straighten my blanket. For her, this is a subject change.
“Thank you.” I’m always cold and having a blanket from home makes the treatment seem not as medical. Besides, it helps the obvious challenge of keeping me warm. I’m not going to snuggle up to her like I do her brother.
“Well, it’s not much, and I’m sure it’s not like my brother does it. But you’ll just have to settle for me today.” She never gives herself enough credit. But she is grinning so I’m positive she’s trying to mask concern with humor.
“You’re right, nurse Cynthia, Dr. Phillip does what nurses can’t,” I say in a sultry voice before laughing. I can’t help it. I had to tease her back.
She squirms on that one but knows I’m kidding. “Where is Phillip today? This is one of his regular days with you.”
Phillip couldn’t bring me to dialysis today. Cyn and Roxy rotate taking turns when Phillip can’t go but today, he has an appointment or something. Probably another college appointment set up by Coach. So, I get to spend four hours with Cynthia. I always get anxious before the IV, but once it penetrates, pierces my vein, and is taped in place, I can relax. Phillip’s a better distraction during this necessary step but today I just had to get through it without him. Another difference about today is that Cyn and I came together. I drove. I don’t ordinarily drive myself because sometimes my treatments make me really tired and weak. Lately I’ve been tolerating the treatments fairly ok, and Cyn has Roxy and Phillip on speed dial should anything go wrong. I can’t, however, shake the feeling I’m missing something.
“Phillip had some sort of appointment. I’m not sure really, maybe something your dad set up.”
I answer her question, but she still seems distant or off somehow.
“Hey, I need to ask you something.” I have to get to the bottom of this.
“Sure babe. You need some ice chips or something?” Robot response.
“No.”
“Another blanket?” Another robot-like response. She’s hiding something.
“No, look, quit taking care of me and listen.” I’m unintentionally a little short with her. “Cyn, I’m sorry. Please look at me.” Her eyes raise to meet mine. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”
Quiet.
“You and Knox good?”
She dips her chin to say yes. There’s a slight pause but then she answers me. “I guess I’m just nervous about the play tryouts.” She looks down quickly and I know she’s lying.
“Try again,” I say flatly. Being left in the dark does not amuse me. Cyn doesn’t open up as often as I want her to. It’s how she works. But this is different. She’s deliberately keeping something from me. I can feel it. “How about we try again, but this time you tell me what’s really on your mind.”
Silence.
“I’m waiting.”
More silence.
“Cyn, this is me you’re talking to.”
“Yeah, I know.” Her lips begin to quiver, and her fearful eyes become glassy. “This is you.” She points to me with both hands, palms facing up. “You got so much worse than we thought you would. I’m scared and I never wanted to tell you that.” Her confession ends in a broken whisper followed by a huge inhale trying to hold back tears.
I can’t help but cry. My best friend is scared for me, and she admits it. “Come here.” I hold out my free arm, the one not hooked up to anything, and offer a hug. “I’ll be alright. I swear. I know it sucks, but we’ll get through this.”
“How do you do that?” Cyn asks, flatly.
“What?”
“Where does your perpetual optimism come from? Aren’t you scared?”
I look directly in her eyes and without blinking, I answer. “I’m going to be alright. I have to be. I won’t accept any other outcome. And I only get scared when I see you do this. I know my situation is bad but I’m not gonna die.” She begins to sob a little louder, still trying to hold it back. I feel guilty for causing Cyn to have this horrified fear of her best friend dying. I should have known she would react this way. Eventually. She’s afraid of death in general, especially after losing a brother, a tragedy that jarred her family in the most terrible way.
“Cyn, I promise. I’m not gonna die, not till I’m like a hundred and too old to hold a camera.” She tries to calm down. “Think of all the wasted pictures, they’ll be mostly feet, carpet and floor tiles.” This joke breaks out a giggle. She wipes under her eyes checking for smudged makeup.
“That would be a lot of dull pictures,” she agrees.
“You stopped running lines earlier because Mary and Colin were talking about dying, didn’t you?”
She lets out a shuddered breath and nods her head yes. “The play just had me thinking about everything so much. I’m getting overwhelmed,” she finally admits.
“Well, you know what the good news is?” I begin. She shakes her head to answer, then hands me a tissue. “Colin gets better. He grows stronger and stronger and gets better. It’s the happy ending everyone wants and the ending I’ll get. Ok?” I think I sound convincing enough. I hope anyway.
At this point Phillip knows a little more detail on exactly how bad I am than his sister does. Had he told her recently? Is this why she’s so concerned or is it the play just messing with her head making her more aware of the realities around her? I want her to believe I’ll be ok.
“You’re right, Sam. You’ll be ok. I just got overwhelmed I guess.” She shrugs her shoulders, trying to dismiss the onset of her tears.
“You’re not convincing me very well. Am I gonna have to sing?” She always sings to me when I don’t feel well but she has a great voice. I don’t.
“No, no no... that’s ok. I know you’ll be fine.” She laughs a little more and I begin to feel relieved. At the very least she’s smiling again and that’s a huge improvement. My treatment area no longer feels so confined now that the uncomfortable veil has been lifted. But I still find myself wondering... Will I be fortunate enough to have the same fate as Colin?