Last Chance

by Lauren Runow

  Mackenzie

  Mackenzie,

  Things have been quiet since we woke up this morning. We laid in each other’s arms until I finally had to give in and use the bathroom and get some water.

  I sit at the breakfast bar, looking at the research Connor accumulated last night, and it feels like my heart is going to break all over again.

  He sits next to me while reaching for my hand. After a few minutes he wraps his arm around me and holds me close to him. There's not much to be said but his touch says it all. There’s no doubt he'll be there for me every step of the way, and that thought gives me more hope than I've ever had in the past.

  "So this list?" he says, breaking the silence.

  "What list?"

  He gives me the cutest grin. "The list that has banging me as one of your to-do's."

  I laugh. "It does not say ‘bang Connor.’"

  He nudges me with his leg. "Don't lie. It definitely says ‘bang Connor.’ That's why you came after me."

  "I'll give you that, but it is definitely worded differently. And how in the hell do you know about my list?"

  "Tracy told me. But I only know that I was on it. What else is?"

  I hide my face, embarrassed about the list I made of things I want to do before I die. It's totally cliché so I have different things other than the normal jump out of a plane or climb Mt. Everest.

  My list has silly things, like experience a Brazilian wax or sing in the rain. I wanted to do the normal things that people experience that I won't have the opportunity to do.

  Even though Tracy knows about it and even helped check off the box with our audition, that we never got a call back for, I’ve never actually showed anyone. “It’s stupid. Just forget about it.”

  “Not a chance. Remember, you’re the one who named yourself Last Chance. I’m here to make sure you live life to the fullest.”

  I sigh, defeated. “Fine. I’ll go get it.”

  The entire way down to my place, I fight an internal battle. On one hand I want to share my life with him, but on the other this is so personal.

  The girls are either already gone or still asleep, so I’m able to sneak in and out without having to explain what I’m doing or why my eyes are puffy from crying.

  I return to his place not feeling any better about sharing this part of me with him. "You can't laugh. Promise?" I state, holding a notebook. Everything in my world is different from when I first made this list. It was more of an if I die versus knowing I will, and sooner than I thought.

  I look at it line by line. Only a few boxes are checked, including the ones I've added since my time with Connor.

  I finally hand it over and instantly play nervously with my bottom lip.

  "So this," he says, pointing to Brazilian wax. "I fully support. We can get that done super quick."

  I hit his arm but smile, thankful he's made a joke about this.

  "Seriously though. I'd be honored if I can help you with the list."

  I kiss him. "I'd like that."

  The next weekend Connor has me packing for colder weather, but he won't tell me where we're going. I know it has something to do with my list, but I never mentioned a particular place, so I don't have a clue what's going on. He says he wants it to be a surprise, and the excitement is killing me.

  We meet at his car, and he loads my bag alongside sleeping bags and a tent.

  He notices me eyeing the camping gear. “I plan on checking off a lot of things tonight." He winks and chills run down my spine. Just the thought of anything with him sounds amazing.

  We drive for what seems like hours and when I notice we’re heading toward Lake Tahoe a bit of excitement comes over me. "Are we going camping in Tahoe?"

  His face says it all, and I reach over to grab his hand. Sleeping under the stars is something on my list, and being at such a high elevation in Tahoe means they will be amazing.

  We don't make it completely into South Lake Tahoe, instead he turns off on Highway 89.

  "What's out here?" I ask.

  "The most remote place you'll ever go. You'll truly feel like you're the only person on earth. Well, I guess we will, considering we’ll be together." He brings my hand up to his lips to kiss the back.

  We pull off on a back road, and after a few very bumpy minutes, he turns into what looks like a makeshift campsite.

  "You want me to sleep here?" I ask teasingly.

  "Don't worry, I'll make it fit for a queen."

  Sleeping under the stars is on my list, but I envisioned it in my backyard, not in the middle of the forest, with no one else around.

  He looks so cute in his designer jeans, scoping out the best place for us to set up our tent. I know he used to come here a lot, but that was always in the winter when it snowed. A Boy Scout he is not, and I'm glad I'm alone when I chuckle at the thought of him setting up camp.

  I'm slightly scared of his plan for tonight, but that's what this whole list is about. I did it to force me to try new things and camping, in the middle of nowhere, is definitely something new to me.

  Within minutes he's got a spot picked out, and he's walking back to the car.

  "Don't be scared," he teases, drawing out the word scared. "I know what I'm doing. I've done this many times."

  "You have?" I get out of the car.

  He gives me a silly look.

  I hold up my hands in truce. “Hey, sorry I questioned you. But you do know how long I’ve known you for, right?”

  “Yes, that’s my favorite thing about you, knowing you’ve loved me for almost your entire life. I forgot how much you used to stalk me.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha,” I deadpan.

  He pulls the tent out of the trunk before leaning over to kiss my cheek. “During college I came here a lot to escape, study, and just be alone. This is my spot, and I’m excited to share it with you.”

  He sets me up with a chair and a beer while he builds our campsite. Watching him work warms my heart.

  He starts a fire and produces hotdogs and a couple of long metal sticks. He hands me one and I look at him, confused.

  “Yes, we’re having hotdogs, and you’re going to cook it over the fire,” he says, answering my unasked question.

  “You can do that?” I laugh.

  “Oh man, you’re too much. Yes, you can cook over an open fire. What do you think people did before kitchens?”

  “They weren’t cooking hotdogs from a package, I can guarantee you that.”

  He punches the stick through a hotdog and hands it to me. “Touché.” We each hold one over the fire, rotating it every few minutes.

  Surprisingly, cooking them over the flame made them taste good. I was amazed at the difference. Or maybe it’s just the entire experience, yet another first that I never even thought to put on my list.

  After dinner the skies turn dark quickly, and Connor lays blankets in front of the fire so we can curl up together. Lying on his chest, I stare into the fire for what seems like hours. The dancing flames mesmerize me with the blue to orange to red hues.

  My mind clears as the wood continues to burn. Every worry, every heartbreak I’ve felt in the last few months seems to burn right along with it. This is life, this fire. Building slowly until it slowly fades away, releasing into the air.

  Suddenly I’m not afraid to speak my mind any more. This is my slow burn; my build of pressure until my own release comes, and I need to take full advantage, knowing my peak is just around the corner.

  I open his hand while I open my heart. “There was one thing I didn’t put on my list, because I knew it would never be possible,” I barely whisper, breaking the comfortable silence.

  He holds me a little tighter. “What’s that?”

  “I want to be a mom. I want to experience the unconditional love that only a mother and their child have.”

  He doesn’t tense or flinch, but he stays silent, so I continue, hoping I didn’t just ruin our night together.

  “I’m not saying I want you to get me
pregnant or anything. That’s crazy, knowing I won’t be around. I’m just letting you in on my thoughts, that’s all.” I turn around to face him when he stays silent. “I’m serious. I’m not asking you for that. I’m just sharing what’s going on inside of my head. Please don’t freak out.”

  “I’m not freaked out,” he says. “I’m sad, that’s all. It’s not fair you won’t be able to experience everything life has to offer.”

  I let out a sigh of relief and lay down again. “I’m getting used to it. I have you. This. It’s making the sting a little more easy to bear.”

  My gaze turns back to the fire, while my head falls against his chest. A single tear slips from my eye that I let fall freely.

  18

  Dear Diary,

  How come no one realizes that even if I die early, I don’t want to spend my last months sick? Is that really such a bizarre thought? What kind of life is it, undergoing radiation and chemo, and feeling like crap for months, when you know there’s no cure? If I had a fighting chance, sure, why not, but I don’t. I just want people to realize that too, so they stop holding out hope when there is none. I hate to be so blunt but it is what it is. I want to be happy as long as I can. Is that too much to ask?

  Mackenzie

  Mackenzie

  “Thank you for going with me,” I say, holding Connor’s hand as we enter the doctor’s office.

  Since the trial is over, they wanted to meet with me to go over my options. Really this appointment is to tell me how much longer until I’m going to die.

  “How are you, my dear?” Doctor Shaw says.

  “I’m good. This is my boyfriend, Connor.” I introduce them and they shake hands.

  “Please have a seat.” He sits down behind a dark brown desk covered in family photos. “I know you heard about the study. We’re heartbroken as well. I looked at your last scans, and so far things seemed to be working well for you.”

  “But?” I blurt, not in the mood for sugarcoating.

  “Yes, there’s always a but. I’m so sorry, Mackenzie. I really think you should try radiation and chemo. That will—”

  “Make me super sick, and I’ll still die.”

  “Yes, but it could give you more time,” he argues.

  “How much more?” Connor asks.

  “A few months to a few years, if we’re lucky.”

  Connor straightens, almost excited.

  I point out, “But the way it’s wrapped around my brain, those few months could be awful for me, making me someone else completely, right?”

  My doctor nods. “That is true. It’s unknown how those pieces we couldn’t get during surgery will react with your brain.”

  “Then it’s not worth the risk to me,” I say, jaw trembling.

  “But, baby, if we get a few more months….” Connor reaches for my hand, trying to convince me.

  “I’m not going through chemo and radiation, leaving me so sick I can’t enjoy these last few months of my life. I won’t do it.” I hate seeing the sadness he’s trying to hide, but it would be even worse if he had to sit next to my hospital bed day and night watching me struggle.

  “So what’s our timeline then, Doc?” Connor says.

  He sits back in his chair, defeated. “It all depends on the growth. Thankfully, there’s been none since your surgery. It makes me sick to think the study might have been working, keeping the tumor from growing. The laser might have bought you a few months. But until we know if it was your body fighting it or the laser, I won’t be able to give you a better timeframe. For now though, I’ll stick with the original year to fifteen months.”

  “Okay then, let’s make this one kick-ass year,” Connor says, looking at me and smiling through the heart I can visibly see crushed on his sleeve.

  Connor

  I dropped Mackenzie off at home before heading back to work. I felt bad leaving her, but I needed to re-group, even though it left a tinge of guilt in my gut. I don’t want her to see my emotions and how I’m handling it all.

  Everything is happening so fast and knowing it will end brings an awful uncertainty to my stomach.

  Sitting at my desk, my mind is everywhere but on my work. After an hour of staring at the same briefing, I finally pick up my phone, calling the one person who will understand my thoughts. The one person I had to listen to when his girlfriend left him.

  “What’s up, bro?” Alan says, like we’re right back to our friendship and nothing ever happened.

  “Life. How did I become you?” I hope he gets that this phone call is about Mackenzie again.

  He laughs. “Paybacks are a bitch, maybe?”

  “Very funny, asshole,” I spit back, knowing he’s just teasing me.

  “Meet me for drinks after work. I’ll hold your hand,” he taunts me again.

  “I was never this mean to you.”

  “Um, yes, actually you were. I’ll see you then.”

  He hangs up, and for the next few hours, I attempt to read three fucking pages.

  When I enter the bar, Alan’s already there. I take the empty seat next to him and he tilts his head to the drink sitting there.

  “Thanks.” I say, taking a big gulp.

  “How is she doing?” he asks, getting right down to business.

  I shake my head and I tell him about the study along with the pulled funding.

  “Yeah, I heard about that study and wondered if she was in it. I’m sorry. What happens now?”

  “She won’t do chemo or radiation. She doesn’t want the end of her life to be spent in a hospital.”

  Alan isn’t as affected as other people might be. He deals with cancer every day, but I’ve never known how emotional his job could be until right now.

  I remember the days he’d beat the hell out of the baseball when we went to the batting cages or do twice the reps at the gym because he had to blow off steam.

  “I don’t understand how you deal with this, day in and day out, and with kids too,” I say, looking down at the beer in my hands.

  “It’s hard. Shit, you’ve seen me firsthand at my worst, but there are a lot of people I help, and that makes it all worth it.”

  We both stare off to space, drinking our beers.

  “So what’s the next—”

  “She wants kids,” I bluntly state.

  “Okay…” he replies, confused by my outburst.

  “Is it possible? I mean, in her condition?”

  “Whoa, are you serious right now? You’re considering having a child with this woman?”

  “She’s not just any woman. I’ve known her my whole life. There’s this connection, this, I don’t know—”

  “I get it. Believe me, I do. Once it’s there, it’s there. Shit, you were by my side when I lost my shit with Amy, so yeah, tell me about it.”

  “But?”

  “Do you even want kids? Up until a few months ago, you didn’t even want a girlfriend.”

  “I know, right? Am I insane for even considering this?”

  “Yes,” he says, without thinking twice. “Did she really ask you to do this?”

  “Not in so many words. She has this list of things she wants to do before she dies. Having kids isn’t on there, but she mentioned that’s the one thing she didn’t put on the list that she wishes were possible.”

  “And you want to sweep in, be the hero, and get her pregnant? Come on, bro. That’s a little much.”

  “Is it?”

  He sighs. “You know I would do it in a heartbeat for Amy if she were in this situation, but”—he shakes his head—“it’s a lifetime commitment. Something you can’t go back on, especially when it’s guaranteed you’ll be doing it alone.”

  “But is it possible? In her condition?” I plead, wanting his professional opinion more than anything.

  “If she’s not on any medications, then yeah, it’s possible. Advisable, I’m not sure. I’d have to see her films and dig a little more.”

  “What would be the reasons not to?”

 
“Connor, she’s going to die. Do you not comprehend what that means? Her body is fighting a foreign invader. The pregnancy could escalate things and fuck, man, she won’t be there to raise it with you,” he almost shouts, drawing attention from other patrons.

  My head drops, defeated. “I just want to make her happy. Give her the best life she can possibly have while I still can.”

  Alan pats my back. “Please think about this long and hard. That's a child you’re talking about. A child who will have no mother and a father who works full time. Who will make their dinners and take them to school and change their diapers when they shit? Just think about it, okay?”

  I nod, but I know there is only one answer.

  19

  Dear Diary,

  I feel like I'm living in a pretend world. Connor and I don’t talk about my cancer, but it’s there, poking its head out when I don't want it to. He acts fairly normal for the most part, but I know it’s constantly in his head. Or maybe it’s always in mine, and I’m projecting. Who knows?

  Mackenzie

  Connor

  It’s been a few weeks since Mackenzie’s last doctor appointment. Even though we hang out every day, and things are seemingly back to normal, a black cloud follows us around. No matter how much we pretend, we can’t get rid of it. So tonight I’m taking her out to check another thing off her list.

  I’ve been practicing all week for this, and nervousness has been eating away at my stomach. This is something I swore I would never do, yet here I am, opening the door to a bar that offers karaoke.

  The look on her face is priceless once she realizes where she is. I thought she would be excited, but the ghost-like paleness creeping up her face makes me laugh.

  “We’re only here because this is on your list.” I open my arms wide, tilting my head to the side and daring her to move forward.