Present Perfect (43 page)

I wanted to tell him that. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. I wanted him to know he is my first and only love. I wanted to say all of that, but I didn’t. I wish I hadn’t wasted all this time trying not to love him, but I did, and now it’s too late. I won’t saddle him with me the way I am. He needs to live his life and not spend it being a nurse to me. I kept my mouth shut and look down at the beautiful gift he gave me.

“Dinner’s ready,” we heard my mom say from the kitchen.

“Listen, I have to get going,” Noah said.

“You’re not staying to eat?”

“I’m going to go eat with Brooke’s family.” He looked away from me, as if he were embarrassed. I guess I just got my answer about what was going on with them. They’re still together.

A wave of self-pity and disappointment flowed through me. I had spent the past few weeks being with Noah almost constantly, especially since my surgery, and it still wasn’t enough time with him. I was used to him being by my side and I didn’t want him to go. I would have to face the phantom pain by myself tonight. I already felt alone and he was sitting right in front of me.

I looked up with tears streaming down my face. “Why are you crying?” he asked.

I shook my head and lied. “I’m just tired and the holidays make me sentimental.” I forced a smile.

Cupping my face, he ran his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping away my tears. “You want me to push you to the table?”

“No. I’ll do it in a minute.”

Standing he said, “You call me if you need me.” I just nodded. “Merry Christmas, Tweet.”

“Merry Christmas, Noah.”

He said his goodbyes to the others and walked out the door.

“You need some help, princess?” my dad asked as he entered the room.

I shook my head. “I’ll be right there, Daddy.”

I rolled into my bedroom as quickly as possible and closed the door. Grabbing a pillow off my bed, I hugged it to my chest, and cried into it. There was a gnawing ache in the pit of my stomach. I felt all alone. I was glad Noah was spending Christmas with his girlfriend. That’s how it should be. He was going back to his normal life. Soon everyone would be going back to their normal lives except me. I’ll be adjusting to my new normal.

Quality versus quantity? Most people would pick quality. I’d rather have one really nice car than five crappy cars’. Although, M&Ms are tasty, a piece of Godiva chocolate is more delicious and decadent.

When you’re dealing with a potentially fatal illness, what’s more important then? Should you live out your life, doing what you want, feeling good until you’re close to the end or should you take advantage of every medical advancement available?

Cancerous limbs can be sawed off, cancerous skin can be scooped out, organs removed, and toxic chemicals can be pumped into your body, all in hopes of giving you quantity. Is it all worth it? Is the fear of death greater than the fear of living with and fighting cancer?

Today, the answer is yes.

Chemo was going to start right after the New Year. I had to go through ten cycles, alternating chemo weeks and off weeks. This would be a part of my life for at least four months, longer if needed. With everything associated with my cancer, I was most afraid of having chemo. I didn’t know if I would lose my hair, be throwing up all the time, or have ulcers all in my mouth. Chemo doesn’t only attack the cancer cells, it also hinders your body from making good cells so infection was a high probability. I had to be extremely careful around other people. A common cold could put me in the hospital for weeks or kill me.

Mom and I pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. I was confused because I was supposed to have the chemo at the clinic. Mom parked the car. Before getting out to get my wheelchair she turned to me, guilt written across her face.

“Amanda, you’re not having chemo today. You’re having a portacath put in today.”

“I don’t understand. What is that?”

“It’s a catheter that they’re going to put right here in your chest.” She pointed to the area just below her shoulder. “You’ll be asleep while they put it in. It’s so when you do get chemo or they need to draw blood, they won’t have to stick you. They’ll just put the medicine through the catheter,” she explained.

“So I’m going to have this thing sticking out of my chest all the time?” I felt the tears prick my eyes. God, I was so done with crying.

“For a little while.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t want you to worry about it over the holidays and have it ruin your Christmas.”

“Cause the cancer and amputation made Christmas just a little more special and fun.”

Mom looked away from me and out the windshield. Her chin started to quiver and a tear trickled down her face. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I just thought it would be one less thing you needed to deal with over the holidays.”

“I know. I’m sorry I was being a smartass.”

“I would do anything to take this away from you.”

Mom grabbed my hand and brought it to her cheek. I felt her warm tears fall on to it. We sat there crying for as long as possible before heading inside for the procedure.

The first chemo was a few days after they placed the catheter in me. I hated having something sticking out of me. I couldn’t look at it.

Mom and I entered a room with recliners lining the walls. Each had its own IV pole. There were only a couple of chairs open. This cancer was trying to mow down everybody. I picked one of the two recliners available and sat. Once the nurse came in she wiped the end of my catheter with an alcohol swab before she drew my blood from it. She wiped it again with another alcohol swab, hung a couple of bags filled with saline and steroids, and told me they were waiting for the chemo drugs to come from the pharmacy.

Mom read a magazine while I snuck glances at the faces surrounding me. There were two grandmother age ladies, a granddaddy age man, a guy that looked to be my age, who was pretty cute, and a young girl, who couldn’t have been more than 10 years old.

My nurse returned carrying bright green baggies that I soon found out contained the chemo drugs. I put in my ear buds, closed my eyes and turned Lifehouse up as high as I could without disturbing the other people, while the toxic concoction was pumped into my bloodstream.

Forty-five minutes into chemo, I still felt okay. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. I opened my eyes and removed my ear buds when Mom tapped me on the shoulder. “Sweetheart, will you be okay if I go get a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Do you want anything?” she asked.

“No thanks.”

As she walked out the room, I noticed that most of the chairs were empty. The patients who had been there when Mom and I arrived had all gone, except for the cute guy. I placed the ear buds back in and closed my eyes.

Soon after, I felt a tap on my arm. I turned my head and opened my eyes thinking Mom had forgotten something. I was met by the deepest dark blue eyes I had ever seen. It was the cute guy from across the room, only up close he was more than just cute. His hair was light brown, cut short and looked like he had just gotten out of bed. His chiseled jawline was speckled with a light beard and I would kill for his cheekbones and nose. Both were perfect. He was leaning over the arm of the chair slightly, staring and smiling at me. He was a hottie.

“Can I help you?” I asked removing my ear buds.

“Nah, I’m good.” He stayed like that for a few more seconds. Oddly enough, it didn’t bother me to have a cute sexy stranger this close.

Then he grabbed my iPod, sat back in his chair, and started flipping through it. “Let’s see what we have here. Lifehouse,” he said, nodding his approval. “Snow Patrol, nice. Green Day, awesome. Tracey Chapman, cool. Coldplay and Linkin Park, excellent taste. Oh, oh, oh…wait a sec…what’s this?” Shaking his head he said, “I thought for a minute, you were the love of my life.”

“Really? What changed your mind?”

“N’Sync. Breaks my heart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with them. They gave us JT.”

Arching one eyebrow, he said, “True. They also gave us Joey Fatone.” I returned the smile he flashed at me. “Dalton Connor.” We shook hands.

“Amanda Kelly.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Amanda Kelly. I wish we could have worked something out.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” I said, as he handed my iPod back.

I noticed he had picked his up. I snatched it from him and started flipping through songs.

“Let’s see what we have here. The Police…hmmm. The Stones, Eric Clapton, You’re an old schooler.” I flipped through a few more songs. “Now what do we have here?
The Bodyguard
soundtrack
, Whitney Houston-The Ultimate Collection, Just
Whitney
, and of course, no collection would be complete without
I’m Your Baby Tonight.
” Smirking with satisfaction, I glanced over at him. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m a romantic.” I tossed his iPod back to him.

“So, what’s a hot girl with one leg doing in a place like this?”

“Um…I have the cancer.”

“That’s pretty obvious, smartass. What kind?” he asked.

“Osteosarcoma.”

“Stage?” I looked at him in obvious confusion. “What stage is your cancer? One through four, four being the worst or the best depending on your perspective.”

“I have no idea.”

“You’re such a newb. I have stage four brain cancer. It’s full throttle for me, baby.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stared at him. “Don’t worry, though. I will guide you through the treacherous waters of the cancer ocean and teach you my ways, young grasshopper.”

“I appreciate that Mr. Miyagi.”

He shook his head. “Not only are you mixing TV with movie characters, but Kung Fu and The Karate Kid are like a decade apart.”

“Your point?”

Slowly the corners of his mouth curled up into a mischevious grin. He leaned in close to me like he had a secret. “Amanda Kelly, are you legal?”

“What?”

“Are you legal age?”

“Why?”

“Because when you finally give into your desires, rip my clothes off, and have your way with me, I don’t want to be arrested, and end up the girlfriend of inmate 25043.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to be your girl because of my poor choice in music.”

“True, but you’re hot and I’d still fuck you.”

If anyone else, on our first meeting, had said that to me, I would have been completely offended, but coming from this boy I just met, it made me smile.

“You’re disgusting,” I teased.

“I’m also adorable as hell. All the girls think so,” he said, winking at me.

“Apparently, they’re not the only ones who think that.”

“I like you, Amanda Kelly, and I want you to be my friend.”

“I like you too, Dalton Connor, and I’d be proud to be your friend.” We shook hands sealing our new found friendship.

“So, the lady with you is your mom?”

“Yeah. Who’s here with you?” I asked.

“I’m ridin’ solo.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“Let’s see, today is Wednesday…she’s probably on her third margarita while she sits with my dad on the cruise ship.”