Love Me: Oakville Series:Book 5 (7 page)

Too often we all take life for granted. We think there’s always tomorrow or we’ll have plenty of time to do this or that. Of course, we don’t allow ourselves to think we may not have a tomorrow. Why would we? You never think bad things will happen to you. They happen to everyone else, but not you—and it’s time we start living every single day like it’s our last.

The three of us are on the couch watching
Home
for the millionth time. It’s a cute movie, but after watching it every day, over and over again, it tends to get a little annoying. Even though he repeats the movie word for word, it brings a smile to his face and, in turn, brings one to ours. Taryn’s phone begins to buzz on the coffee table. I glance over to her and she’s as white as a sheet. My stomach drops. Leaning forward, she picks up her phone and gives me a nod before answering it, confirming it’s the doctor’s office.

“He-hello,” she stammers, and I hold my breath, wishing she’d put the call on speaker so I can hear what’s being said on the other end. Chase begins singing along with the movie and Taryn gets up, walking toward the kitchen for privacy. I follow close behind, not wanting to miss anything. She chews on her bottom lip and all I want to do is reach out and comfort her, to know with her. Ending the call, she takes a deep breath and turns to face me, her eyes filling with tears. All the air whooshes out of me in a rush, like I’ve been sucker punched.

“They...want to see me in the office to give me the results,” she whispers, fighting hard to hold it together. “If it were nothing, they would just tell me over the phone, right? They wouldn’t want me to rush to the office to tell me nothing is wrong,” she says, voicing exactly what I was thinking.

“When do they want you to come in?” I question. Her lip begins to tremble and her hand goes to her chest as if she’s in pain.

“Right now,” she whimpers. I move to her and wrap my arms around her just as her legs give out.

The ride to the doctor’s office is silent, both of us lost in our own heads. I’m terrified of what they are about to tell us. I can’t help but automatically think the worse, and it makes me feel like complete shit. I should be focusing on the positive, telling myself it’s most likely something small that can be taken care of easily, but all I can think about his how my wife is going to die. Reaching across the seat, I take her hand in mine and give it a reassuring squeeze. No matter what we hear today, I need to make sure I’m strong for her. My feelings don’t matter. This is all about her and making this as easy for her as I can, no matter the outcome.

As I ease the car into the parking lot, my heart begins to pound. My palms are suddenly clammy and the bile rising in my throat threatens to escape. I glance over at Taryn and immediately wish I hadn’t. Her eyes are squeezed shut, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks as she twists her hands together in her lap.

“Are you okay, sweetness?” I ask. Slowly, she turns to face me and the look on her face tells me she’s anything but.

“Seriously? Of all the things you could say to me right now, that’s what you ask?” she snaps. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth and a horrified looks crosses her face. I don’t say a word, because honestly, I’m speechless. Taryn doesn’t normally have a short fuse. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t mean to bite your head off like that. I’m just scared and really nervous.” The fact that she’s apologizing bothers me more than her snapping at me. There’s nothing for her to be sorry for. She’s stressed; it’s perfectly understandable. How could she not be? Hell, I’m about to lose my mind. I grab her hand and bring it to my lips.

“Don’t ever apologize for how you feel. Scream at me. Hit me. Kick me. Do anything you need to if it makes you feel better. That’s what I’m here for—sicker or poorer, better or worse, remember?” She smiles. It’s small, but still a smile. And just like that, the tightness in my chest eases.

W
alking through the doors of the doctor’s office has me on the edge of a panic attack. My chest is tight and breathing has become difficult. I don’t know if I can do this. Deep in my gut, I know whatever they are going to tell me is bad—really bad. Part of me thinks if I don’t hear it, then it won’t be happening. It won’t be real. The second the doctor says it out loud, it can’t be taken back and my life will forever be changed.

Marcus guides me through the doorway. My legs feel as if they’re made from stone. They don’t want to move. They don’t want to carry me to what lies ahead. I don’t want them to carry me. I’m terrified—more terrified than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I want to be thinking positive, but I can’t seem to get there. The only thing I can think is people die from cancer. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave my family behind. I try to remember anyone I’ve known with cancer who has beaten it and survived, but no one comes to mind. Every single person in my family lost their battles.

“Sweetness, they’re calling us,” Marcus says, breaking me from my thoughts. I look up and see Theresa standing in the doorway with a chart, a smile on her face. I can’t help but smile back at her. She just has one of those personalities that can brighten everything around her. She motions for us to follow her down the hallway. When the door closes behind us, I jump, ready to tear out of my skin. It feels like a jail door slamming behind me.

“Dr. Bryant is waiting in his office,” Theresa says as she swings the door open and steps back, allowing us to go in. The doctor is sitting behind his desk reading some papers in a file. I try to see if his face shows any hint of what’s to come, but his features are smooth, his face statuesque. As I sit in one of the leather chairs across from Dr. Bryant, he looks up, the picture of calm. I have no fucking clue what is going through his mind.

“Thank you both for coming in so quickly,” he says in a cheerful voice that sounds forced. My stomach turns. He has one hell of a poker face, but his voice just gave him away. I can feel the tears beginning to build. Marcus reaches over and places his hand over mine, bringing my attention to how bad I’m shaking. My eyes remain glued on the doctor’s lips. I need to know why we had to come down here, and if he doesn’t spit it out soon, I might just explode.

“I’m sure you’re anxious to find out why you’re here,” he says, looking between Marcus and me. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I assume Marcus does the same. I can’t look at him, I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep it together. I hate what this is doing to him, to me, to our family. Dr. Bryant’s voice brings me back to the here and now. “I’m just going to get right to the point.” Folding his hands together and resting them on the desk in front of him, he takes a deep breath. “The tests show you have neuroendocrine small cell carcinoma of the cervix.”

My stomach clenches and my skins starts to feel hot as the air gets knocked from my lungs. He keeps speaking, but his voice sounds like the adults on
Charlie Brown
. My heart beats so hard, it threatens to break out of my chest. Within a matter of seconds, my whole world has fallen apart. Marcus grabs my face and turns me to look at him. Putting his finger under my chin, he lifts it so I meet his eyes. The pain and pure agony swimming in his eyes is like a knife to my heart. He mouths, “I love you,” but I look away, unable to bear seeing how much this is hurting him.

“Doc, can you explain this like you would to a five-year-old? I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Marcus says, frustrated. “What I want to know is....” he trails off, running his hands down his face. “Can this be cured? Will Taryn be okay?” He’s staring at the doctor, his eyes pleading for the answer he wants. I look over to Dr. Bryant and he lifts his head to look at me, his eyes filled with sadness and regret. Just like that, I know I’m going to die. I squeeze Marcus’ hand.

When the words, “There’s no cure,” and, “Chemo may help prolong her life by a few months,” leave the doctor’s mouth, Marcus loses it. Jumping up from his chair, he begins pacing back and forth throughout the office, his hands frantically pulling at his hair. When he stops the pacing, he slides down the wall and begins sobbing. The sounds of his cries gut me. They’re full of sadness, anger, and pain...so much pain. Each cry rips apart my heart a little more.

Dr. Bryant quietly slips from the office to give us some privacy. I make my way over to Marcus and kneel down in front of him. He pulls me onto his lap and we sit there, holding onto each other for dear life.

“We’re gonna get through this, Marcus. I promise it will all be okay,” I whisper against his ear. He squeezes me tighter.

“Sweetness, nothing will ever be okay again,” Marcus replies. He’s right. His and Chase’s life will change after today. How do I deal with knowing I’m leaving them behind all alone and broken?

T
he last couple days have been a roller coaster of emotions. Taryn wants to discuss our options, but I can’t bring myself to begin planning her death. My head is a jumbled mess. One minute, I’m angry, and the next, I’m scared. The thought of how sick she is going to get tears me apart. I’m not sure I can stand by and watch her deteriorate into nothing knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I’m terrified I won’t be able to take care of Chase on my own. I don’t know if I can be all he needs me to be, especially if I’m trying to keep myself from falling apart.

When the anger takes over, it’s blinding. I’m so fucking pissed off at everything. I’m mad at God. At life. At every healthy person. I’m angry our son will have to lose his mother and feel a pain a child his age should never have to feel. I find myself wanting to scream at the top of my lungs until I can’t scream any more.

One thing we have decided and actually agree on is the fact that we need to tell our friends. They are going to be devastated, but we need them more than ever right now. Plus, this isn’t something either of us feel right keeping from them. I wish we were as ready to tell Chase. We still have no clue how we’ll do that and are avoiding the conversation for as long as we possibly can. Just the idea of breaking my son’s heart into a million pieces makes me want to hurl.