No Time to Cry (2 page)

J
AKE Macka!
Memories of the past tumbled through her mind like scenes from an old movie. “Is it really you?”
Dumb question
! she told herself. Her heart thudded, and her knees felt weak. “But you moved away almost two years ago.” She instantly recalled how disappointed she’d felt when his family had left Columbus. It was just before her relapse.

“Well, a year and a half ago, actually. But my dad’s company moved him back last month. We’ve got a house over on Claremont Avenue. I’m going to Hardy High. You, too?”

“Yes.”

“Hop in. I’ll drive you.” He reached over and opened the passenger side door.

Dawn thought for just a second about what her parents would say. But they knew Jake and his family, so she figured it was okay to accept his offer of a ride. She climbed into the car, still numb with the shock of seeing him. She’d had a crush on Jake in the fifth grade that had lasted until he moved. Now, seeing him again after more than a year, she could hardly think straight. He was taller, more muscular, and his shoulders were broader, but he had the same heart-melting smile and warm brown eyes that had always sent chills through her.

“When I saw you walking along the sidewalk, I couldn’t believe it was you,” Jake said. “I told myself, ‘It’s just someone who looks like Dawn.’ But the longer I looked, the more I was sure it was you. It’s the hair. I always thought you had the prettiest color hair.” She touched her shoulder-length hair self-consciously. “You look great,” Jake said, easing the car into traffic. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

He pulled, up at a stoplight and studied her carefully.

“No, I mean how are you,
really
?”

Of course, Jake would remember her first hospitalization and diagnosis. Her entire class had sent her get-well cards, including an unsigned one with an adorable teddy bear on the front, which she’d always suspected was from him.

“I heard you had a bone marrow transplant.”

“You did?”

“One of your friends called and left a message about it. I called you, but I guess someone forgot to tell you.”

Dawn vaguely recalled an entry Rob had made in her diary, when she was too sick to write in it herself, about calls from lots of friends. Jake had been one of them.

She felt a warm tingling sensation all the way down to her toes. Still, the last thing she wanted to discuss with him now was her health.

“The doctors think I’m cured,” she said breezily, hoping to end the discussion.

His face broke into a smile. “That’s terrific! I’d never known anyone with cancer and I thought you were brave—a real hero.”

“Not me,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. “You were the hero.”

“When?”

“When you ran for the touchdown and Adams beat Harrison.”

Jake laughed. “Talk about ancient history.”

“Do you still play football?”

“I switched to soccer when we moved to Cincinnati. Soccer’s a spring sport, but I’m the extra point kicker for Hardy’s football squad this season.” He glanced over at her. “You coming to Friday night’s game?”

“I plan to go. Do you remember Rhonda? We’re going together.”

“You’re the person I remember best,” Jake said.

Dawn’s heart tripped, and she could feel a blush creeping up her neck.

“Remember the school carnival?” Jake asked with a smile.

“Of course! You dressed up like a clown and sat in the dunk tank to help us cheerleaders raise money,” she replied.

“I almost drowned.”

“You were a lifesaver.” He groaned at her little joke. “Is this your car?” she asked.

“My parents got it for me when I turned sixteen this summer. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

She patted the worn seat. “I hope I can get a car when I turn sixteen.”

He swung into the school parking lot, which was teeming with morning traffic. In the distance she saw school buses pulling in and was glad she hadn’t had to ride one that morning. “Thanks for the lift,” she said when he’d found his assigned parking slot and turned off the engine.

“Maybe we can do it again.” He walked with her toward the entrance, and she couldn’t help noticing that some of the girls were giving them curious looks.

“That would be fun.” Because he was on the football team, and because he was so good looking, everybody would soon know who Jake Macka was, Dawn thought to herself. But this one morning, he was walking with her. In some ways, she felt like a thirteen-year-old again—like she had before she’d gotten cancer, when nothing was more important than being seen with one special person by all your friends.

“If you can hang around until I wrap up football practice, I’ll take you home.”

The urge to shout “yes!” was on her tongue when she remembered that her mother was picking her up for a clinic appointment that afternoon. “I . . . um . . . can’t today. I have someplace I have to go.”

“Okay,” he said.

She felt very disappointed. Once again, her stupid cancer had interfered with her life. If only she could be free of it forever. “It was really good to see you,” she said, stopping beside her locker.

“You, too. I’d better go,” he said. “I’ve got a bear for a geometry teacher. Rumor has it he gives detentions for tardies.”

“Sounds mean.”

He grinned, gave her a nod, and started off down the hall. She watched him disappear into the crowd and felt a bittersweet longing. Seeing Jake had stirred memories from a time when things were simple and life was uncomplicated. She sighed, wondering if life could ever be that way for her again.

* * * * *

“All finished?” Katie asked when Dawn walked up to her at the nurse’s desk on the fourth floor.

“The blood-letting is over,” Dawn replied, holding out her arm to show off the Snoopy Band-Aid in the crook of her elbow. “Since I was a big girl and didn’t cry, the lab tech gave me a special reward.”

She and Katie laughed together. “I guess you get used to it after you’ve been through it as much as you have,” Katie said.

Dawn shook her head. “Over the past three years, I’ll bet they’ve withdrawn a small ocean of blood from me. Believe me, I never get used to it!”

Katie flashed her a look of sympathy. “Well, when the report comes back and you’re given a clean bill of health, you’ll be glad.”

“Until the next time. And speaking of that, I’ll have to have a bone marrow aspiration next time.” She made a face. “I hate when they stick needles into my bones. It hurts.”

“But it’s necessary,” Katie said.

“I still hate it.” Dawn said with a shrug. “So what do you want to show me?”

“It’s upstairs.”

“Not on the oncology floor, I hope,” Dawn said. “You know how I feel about going back up there, Katie.” She hated going to the cancer floor where she’d spent so much time in isolation when she’d almost died.

“It isn’t.” Katie took Dawn’s hand.

They rode up to the tenth floor and stepped off the elevator. Dawn could see that it was a floor full of offices. Because it was after five, most of the workers had gone home. A few doctors were still inside their cubicles, doing paperwork or talking on the phone. A janitor was emptying wastebaskets. “Have they given you your own office?” Dawn asked, intrigued.

Katie laughed. “No—I’m still only a nurse. Here we are,” she said, turning a corner to face a long wall. On it, a tree was painted. The trunk was thick and sturdy looking, and its branches sprawled down the wall as if it were actually growing there. Each branch held plump, green leaves. Every leaf bore a person’s name.

“What is it?” Dawn asked.

“It’s the Tree of Life,” Katie explained. “It’s dedicated to cancer survivors. Like you, Dawn Rochelle.”

D
AWN stepped forward and examined the painted tree more closely. Several of the large green leaves were only outlines, as if waiting for names to be filled in. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“It’s a new program we’ve started,” Katie said eagerly, her blue eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “It’s a survivor support group, and it meets right inside this room.” She gestured toward a closed door beside the trunk of the tree. “All the members of the group have their names painted on the leaves to announce that they’re survivors. Think of it, Dawn. Before bone marrow transplants came into being, less than a third of all kids with leukemia were cured. Today, more than half can expect a normal life span. Kids with other kinds of cancers are living longer, too.”

“That’s great, but why have a support group? I mean, support groups are super when you’ve just been diagnosed. It really helps to be able to talk about treatments and feelings and stuff like that when it’s happening to you. But if you’re doing fine, why keep bringing it up?”

“Discussion groups are helpful no matter what the problem. And just because something’s over doesn’t mean it’s one hundred percent behind you. Don’t you ever wish that you could talk to someone who’s been through what you’ve been through?” Katie asked.

Dawn wasn’t sure how to answer. A part of her was curious about other cancer patients’ experiences. But a part of her was also glad that much of the ordeal was behind her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to dredge up the past and all its heart-rending memories of treatments and pain and uncertainty.

Then there was the heartache of losing her friends to cancer. She’d worked long and hard to get over the feelings of loss she had when Sandy died. Then the feelings had all rushed back when she’d watched helplessly as Marlee died. What good would it do to discuss it with a bunch of strangers?

“I’ve just started high school, and I’m pretty busy with my studies. I want to make good grades and be involved with school stuff. I’m not sure I’ll have time to come to some support group.” She stepped away from the mural of the tree.

“They only meet once a month. There are doctors and nurses who help guide the discussions and answer questions. A lot of kids your age attend. You might enjoy getting to know them.”

“I hardly have time to get to know the kids at my school,” Dawn said with a nervous laugh.

“You don’t have to come regularly unless you want to.” Katie put her hand on Dawn’s arm. “There’re a lot of things pent up inside you about your experiences. Things that need to be talked about.”

“But I feel fine,” Dawn protested, beginning to feel pressured. Why didn’t Katie drop it?

“Do you?”

Katie’s question added to Dawn’s discomfort. Of course, she did. Hadn’t she faced her reluctance to be involved with other patients that summer when she agreed to be a counselor at the cancer camp? It had been hard to go back and perform the same rituals she had during her very first summer. But she’d gone anyway, and she ended up actually having a good time.

“Look, Katie, I know you only want to help me, but right now I don’t want to do anything that isn’t connected with school. I want to have fun this year, you know, like a regular person.”

“I understand. But will you just think about it? Just give it some thought?”

Dawn couldn’t tell Katie no. She liked her too much. And she didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But she didn’t want to be forced into some cancer memory sessions either. “I’ll think about it.”

Katie smiled. “Good.” She tucked her arm around Dawn’s shoulders. “Now that that’s settled, we’d better get you home. I’m starved for some of your mom’s good cooking.”

Dawn sneaked one final peek at the mural, at the leaves decorated with various names, and wished that Sandy and Marlee’s names could be listed.

But that was impossible. They weren’t survivors. Sandy had leukemia, just like Dawn. Marlee had non-Hodgkins lymphoma, which causes tumors to grow on internal organs. Both had fought a tough battle with cancer, and both had lost. Dawn shook her head, trying to shake off the feeling of sadness that crept over her whenever she thought about Marlee and Sandy.

* * * * *

“Of course, I remember Jake Macka! He was so cute! And he’s here at Hardy? And he remembers you? Awesome!” Rhonda’s voice bubbled. “Why didn’t you
tell
me?”

“Calm down. It’s not
me
he remembers. It’s my cancer. I really didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”

Dawn and Rhonda were sitting in the stands. The football team had just jogged onto the field amid the cheers of the packed stadium.

“Where is he?” Rhonda craned her neck toward the field.

“That’s him—number six.” Dawn had seen Jake instantly. It was as if her eyes had radar for him.

“Do you suppose he’ll be at the dance?”

“How should I know?”

“You have all the luck,” Rhonda grumbled. “First a college guy, and now Jake.”

Dawn didn’t remind Rhonda that her luck also included leukemia. “He was glad to see a familiar face. We had two years of information to catch up on, you know.” Quickly, Dawn filled Rhonda in on what Jake had told her. “Once he gets popular at Hardy, he won’t remember my name,” she finished.

“We’ll see,” Rhonda declared.

After the game, Dawn and Rhonda worked their way through the crowd in the gym. “Let’s grab a seat over there.” Rhonda pointed to a section of bleachers reserved for general seating.

The center of the gym floor was jammed with dancers and a DJ was stationed at one end of the room. Colored spotlights reflected off the crowd. Music blared, and Dawn had to shout to be heard. “Are we having fun yet?”

“Don’t be a party pooper. We just got here.” Rhonda grabbed Dawn’s arm. “Maybe someone cool will notice us.”

“Who? The janitor?” Even though she was giving Rhonda a hard time, Dawn was enjoying herself. She liked watching the dancers and feeling like she was part of things. The DJ announced “a blast from the past” and the mellow voice of Elvis Presley filled the gym. Couples glided together and swayed slowly to an old Fifties love song.

The song jolted Dawn’s memory, and suddenly she was back at camp, at the Fifties dance with Brent. Brent had dressed as Elvis, and every female camper had flocked around him. She remembered walking in the moonlight with him, the feel of her hand in his. He’d pulled her into his arms and would have kissed her, but the girls from her cabin, hiding in the bushes, had begun heckling them.

All at once, she missed Brent terribly. She missed his easy and open personality and his low, Southern drawl. But what she missed most of all were the talks they’d had about Sandy. It had helped take away some of the pain of losing her.

“How about a dance?”

The voice above her jerked Dawn back to the present. But it wasn’t Brent who was holding out his hand to her. It was Jake.

“She’d
love
to,” Rhonda said, giving Dawn a shove.

Dawn was on her feet and in Jake’s arms, still shaken by the powerful memories that had come upon her so unexpectedly. One minute she’d been having the time of her life, and the next, at the sound of a song, she’d dropped into a pit. What was wrong with her, anyway?

“Great game,” she said, trying to cheer herself up. “I’m glad we won.”

“Thanks.” His arms tightened around her. “Is everything all right?”

“Just fine.” She offered him a breathless smile. His dark, chocolate brown eyes gazed down at her, and she felt an odd melting sensation going through her.
This is Jake!
she reminded herself. Someone she never thought she’d see again, and now, here they were dancing.

From the loudspeakers, Elvis’s voice crooned, “Two different worlds, we live in two different worlds . . .” The words made perfect sense to her. Brent Chandler represented one of her worlds and Jake, another. Why did she feel as if she were caught between both of those worlds, but didn’t fully belong to either?