“That’s nice.” Her mother toyed with her jewelry. “I want you to have a good time during your senior year, Jory. I want you to continue your friendship with Melissa. But I also want you to realize how much you have and how much more you can have if you’ll only take it.”
Her mother had shrugged off Melissa’s Merit semifinalist status as if it were nothing. To Jory, the gulf between herself and her mother had never seemed wider. “I’m going to start planning my beach party right away. It’ll cost money.”
“Money is no problem.”
“Right.” Jory turned and crossed to her bedroom window, where she lowered the miniblinds against the glare of the sun. To the Delaneys, money never was.
Chapter Five
“Hey, Delaney! Great party.”
Jory flashed a smile at the anonymous shout coming from a group of classmates, and shielded her eyes from the glare of sunlight off the bright green water of the gulf. The sun hadn’t even set and already the party was in full tilt. She hadn’t expected such a huge turnout, but news of the party had spread like wildfire and half the senior class had shown up. The weather had cooperated, still balmy with a dry tropical breeze and only a hint of autumn in the November air.
Jory was making her way through the warm sand toward the food tables when Lyle Vargas fell into step beside her. “How you doing, Jory?”
She glanced up at the thick brown hair that always seemed to be hanging over Lyle’s forehead. His eyes were almost amber in the waning light. “Fine.”
“Haven’t seen much of you since school started.”
“Been busy.” She recalled telling Melissa that she thought he was boring. Actually, she didn’t know him at all, except that he had a reputation for being smart and friendly. He played on the varsity basketball team, although he was never a starter, and he’d been on the Brain Bowl team with Melissa the year before. Jory had actually caught him staring at her a few times in the halls at school or at parties.
“It was good news about Melissa’s making the National Merit semis, huh?”
Lyle’s comment both surprised and touched her. Jory doubted that anyone there even cared that the party was for Melissa’s achievements. “I thought so.” They passed through a pickup volleyball game and dodged the ball as it smacked the sand in front of them. She stopped at the food tables long enough to grab a cola out of a washtub of ice. “Have you seen Melissa?” She asked a group of girls.
“I saw her heading down the beach with Tony Perez,” someone answered.
Jory strained to see down the shoreline in the fading light. She searched vainly for the familiar sight of her friend, but saw only gentle waves lapping the hard white sand.
“Looking for Melissa?”
With a start, Jory realized that Lyle had spoken. She’d almost forgotten that he’d walked with her. Slightly embarrassed, Jory said, “Melissa’s seemed out of it ever since I picked her up this afternoon and brought her to the party.”
“Yeah. I noticed that too.”
“I can’t figure out what’s got her down.”
“She’ll probably be back in a few minutes,” Lyle offered in a way that made Jory suspect that he understood Jory’s concern about her friend’s absence better than the average person.
Before she could comment, Pam Hughes interrupted. “Jory, some of the guys are building the bonfire. Where’re the hot dogs?”
“I’ll get them.” Jory turned to Lyle. “Catch you later. Okay?”
His expression fell, but he agreed and wandered off toward the volleyball match. She rummaged through the ice chests shoved beneath the tables. By the time she’d dragged the Styrofoam box to the hollowed-out pit in the sand, the heaped-up firewood was glowing brightly. Several guys were toasting their accomplishment with beer.
Jory frowned, wishing they’d left the beer behind, but knowing it appeared at every party even though no one was of legal age. Except Michael. Where had that thought come from? Michael Austin was miles away, and she’d done everything she could to keep from thinking about him for months. Jory sighed and wondered again where Melissa had disappeared to. When she saw Tony Perez dancing with Felicia Garton, she grew concerned. “Tony, have you seen Melissa?”
“Not since we got here.”
“I thought you two went for a walk.”
“We did, but she told me to go on back, that she’d rather be by herself for a while.”
This doesn’t sound right, Jory thought. Melissa had been looking forward to the party and had even helped shop for the food. “Which way did she head?”
The dark-haired boy offered an annoyed shrug. “Lighten up, Jory. She’ll be back.”
“Which way?”
He pointed southward and Jory headed down the beach in an easy jog. Her bare feet slapped the sand, the gentle wash of salt water occasionally brushing over her toes. The sounds of the party receded in the night, and soon all she saw when she looked behind her was the glow of the bonfire. Jory tugged her windbreaker to her, grateful that she’d taken the time to put it on.
The moon came out, only half full, but bright enough to cast an eerie light on the sand. Scattered seashells caught the moonlight and glittered, moist and cool. Jory felt her pulse quicken and her tension evaporate when she saw Melissa sitting alone in the sand, her knees pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on them. Her waist-length hair fluttered in the breeze.
Slowing, pausing for breath, Jory approached her friend. “Is this seat taken?”
Melissa turned slowly and gazed upward. If she was surprised to see Jory, she didn’t show it. “No. Sit next to me.”
Jory obliged, plopping down with a long exhalation and crossing her legs. Questions crowded her mind. She resisted the urge to be irritated with Melissa for going off without a word. Instead she stared out at the swells and whitecaps, and the lull of the surf calmed her.
Melissa asked, “Why does the ocean always make you feel small and insignificant?”
“Maybe because we are,” Jory answered with a shrug. She wasn’t in the mood to delve into the mysteries of the universe. “You’re missing a good party,” she ventured cautiously.
“I’ll head back in a few minutes.”
They fell silent. Jory sensed that something was wrong, but couldn’t bring herself to ask what just yet. “Tony Perez is cute. You took a walk with him?”
“A short walk.” There was silence. “Do you ever wonder where God is, Jory?”
“He’s in heaven,” Jory said matter-of-factly. “What does it matter?”
“I’ve been thinking about Him lately. I wonder what part He plays in our lives. Do you think He knows us by name? And if He does know each of our names—does that give Him the right to pull us around like we’re puppets on strings?”
“I hadn’t ever thought about it. It seems to me that He’d be too busy with things like world hunger and world peace and stuff like that to have time for plain old me.” Jory picked up a shell and scooped out a hollow in the sand. Loose grains immediately filled the hole and she abandoned the project as hopeless. “Let’s see.… Does God have a long list with everybody’s name on it and check us off one by one?” Jory attempted to lighten Melissa’s mood.
“You’ve got God mixed up with Santa Claus, Jory. No, I think God plans what’s going to happen to us even before we’re born.”
Jory wrinkled her nose in dissatisfaction. “Doesn’t sound like we get much of a chance to make decisions about our lives, huh?”
“No. Therefore, I guess it doesn’t really matter if we’re good or bad, does it? God’s already decided what’s going to happen to us.”
“Now you’re making Him sound like Santa Claus.” Jory poked Melissa’s arm playfully. “I don’t know why you’re thinking such heavy thoughts, but personally, I think everybody gets a choice about how he wants to manage his own life. You either do what’s right or you do what’s wrong. But I’ll bet God knows what choice you’re gonna make before you do. That makes sense to me. How about you?”
“But what about the things that just happen to people. Things you don’t get a choice about? Does God decide those things for you in advance?”
Like getting cancer, Jory thought, the conversation weighing her down. A fiddler crab ventured out of his burrow and scampered to the waterline. A wave broke offshore, sending a rush of water toward him. He attempted a retreat, but the water caught him, tumbled him wildly, and pulled him out to the sea. “So what did God decide about us?” Jory asked lightly, wanting to chase away the unanswerable and the unfathomable. “You’re the National Merit scholar.”
Melissa turned her face toward Jory. Her eyes were dark hollows and her skin looked pale, ethereal. “God decided that you’re going to be rich and famous.”
“No kidding? And I just thought I had to figure out what to do over the rest of the school year.” She smiled nervously and pushed her hair behind her ear. “What did He decide for you?”
A wry smile hovered on Melissa’s lips. She leaned sideways and whispered from the corner of her mouth, “That I’ll go to my grave a virgin.”
Jory laughed at Melissa’s sudden turn to humor. “Not if Tony Perez has anything to say about it, you won’t.”
Melissa sobered and pulled the luxurious length of hair over her shoulder and stroked it. “Last spring, when Ric asked me to go to bed with him, it was the funniest feeling. I mean, I wanted to. I really did. I wanted to know what it felt like. To be with a guy that way.” Jory squirmed in the sand. She’d seen enough movies and read enough books to have wondered the same thing. “But in the end, I decided I wanted more than to just satisfy my curiosity. I wanted to be in love.”
Bewildered, Jory still couldn’t figure out where the conversation was leading. “I guess we all want to be in love before we try making love. I know I do.” Sometimes she thought she was in love with Michael, but he’d never even so much as held her. “So maybe when you get to college, you’ll fall in love. I have to agree that it’s slim pickings in our senior class.”
Melissa leaned back on her palms and let her head drop back. In the moonlight Jory could see she looked troubled, and she realized that Melissa still hadn’t touched on what was really bothering her. “So we’ve talked about God and love. What else? We need to get back to the party before they send out a search party.”
“Do you think they’ve even missed us? Do you think anyone even cares?”
“Of course,” Jory volunteered. “In fact, Lyle Vargas was asking about you. He seems more sensitive than most of the clods in our crowd.”
Melissa smiled. “If he asked about me, it was just an excuse to have a conversation with you.”
Jory waved her hand. “Sure. All the guys like Jory but the right one.”
“You’re a good friend, Jory, and the party’s super.”
“How would you know? You’ve missed practically the whole thing.”
“I got a call from the clinic today.”
Jory started. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart began to hammer. A call from the clinic. “And?”
“And they said that my blood work showed signs of an elevated white count again.”
Jory licked her lips nervously but her mouth was dry. “An infection?”
Melissa faced her, and immediately she was hidden in shadows. “It means I’m out of remission. It means my leukemia has come back.”
Chapter Six
“There must be some mistake,” Jory said. “They must have gotten your lab work mixed up with someone else’s. Why, I saw a story on TV just the other day about a woman whose baby got mixed up with another woman’s in a hospital nursery. I mean, if they can get a real live baby mixed up, what chance do they have with a blood sample?” Jory knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop.
“There’s no mistake, Jory.”
“Well then, they’ve just misinterpreted the results. Maybe you really do have an infection. Infections can cause white blood counts to go up. I know for a fact …”
Melissa laid her hand on Jory’s arm. “It’s not an infection. It’s a relapse.”
Jory struggled to her feet, agitated, restless. Her legs had cramped from sitting so long and she stumbled when she tried to pace. “Well, I don’t believe it. You’ve been feeling great for ages. You look terrific too. They’ve made a mistake.” She was angry at the nameless, faceless doctors who were ruining Melissa’s life.
Melissa stood and dusted off the seat of her jeans. “It’s all right, Jory. You don’t have to be so upset about it.”
Jory whirled. “No it isn’t all right. Now you’ve got to start that stinking chemo stuff again. You’ll lose your hair. You’ll be sick all the time.”
“No chemo this time, Jory.”
Jory halted her tirade and stared at Melissa’s face. She realized that she was seeing Melissa through a mist of tears. “The chemo worked the first time. Why won’t they do it again?”
“Because achieving second remissions with chemo is difficult.”
“Then what will they do?”
“Dr. Rowan says they want to try a bone marrow transplant.”
Jory had heard the term when Melissa had first been diagnosed a year before, but she couldn’t remember what the treatment involved. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s when they take healthy bone marrow from a donor and put it into my cancerous bone marrow. The theory is that the new marrow will begin to grow and take over from the bad marrow, and I’ll be cured.”
“Why didn’t they do that to begin with?”
Jory watched Melissa shove a seashell around with her big toe. “It’s risky.”
“How risky?”
“Fifty-fifty chance of its working.”
The implications of Melissa’s words momentarily tied Jory’s tongue. Finally she said, “Sounds like they’re calling a coin toss. Heads, they win. Tails, you lose.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“And if they don’t do the transplant at all? What are the odds then of your being cured?”
“Twenty percent.”
“Stinking odds.” She took a long, shuddering breath and faced Melissa fully, crossing her arms as if to ward off the impracticality of the math equation. “So where do you get this marrow?”
“Dr. Rowan says that anyone’s best chance comes when the marrow is received from a biologically compatible donor.”
“Meaning?”
“Michael.”
Jory’s heart lurched. Double jeopardy. What if they both lost? “Is it dangerous?”
“More for Michael than for me. For him, it means an operation to remove the marrow and a recovery period. There’s a risk whenever anyone goes under general anesthesia. It’s uncomfortable for the donor because they put a needle into his hipbone to extract the marrow.”
Jory trembled and for a second felt queasy. “Then what happens?”
“Once they remove it, they bring the marrow to me in IV bags and let it drip into me, just like the chemo. I’m awake the whole time and won’t feel anything. Mom can even sit with me. We can read or play Monopoly. ‘Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200’ … ” Her attempt at humor didn’t help Jory.
“How does Michael feel about donating his marrow?”
“You know Michael.… Bring on the lions.”
Jory smiled wistfully, thinking of Michael. “You said there were risks,” she said.
“Well, its more complicated than just dumping Michael’s marrow into my body. It has to do with genetic compatibility.”
“I thought you said you and Michael were compatible.”
“We are. Mostly. But there’s always the threat of rejection. And complications.”
“You could reject his marrow?”
“Our cells’ genetic codes are different. My body will attack his marrow the minute it gets inside.”
“But I’ll bet the doctors have a solution for that problem too.” Jory knew she sounded sarcastic, but she didn’t care.
“How’d you gue
ss?” Melissa stooped and picked up the shell and ran her fingers over the smooth, sea-worn surface. “They put me in the hospital and do testing to see if I’m a candidate for the operation in the first place. If so, they put me into isolation, in a germ-free room, and start me on massive doses of autoimmune suppressant drugs. They destroy my body’s ability to fight germs, and it’s ability to fight off Michael’s bone marrow. Then they do the transplant. Then we have to wait to see if it takes, and hope there aren’t any complications, like a secondary infection. As I understand it, even a common cold could kill me because I’ll have no resistance to fight it.”
“And if it does take?”
“I get to go home and go on a different kind of maintenance program. Ultimately, I can be cured.”
She cleared her throat. “So how long will all this testing and suppressing and operating take?”
“Six to eight weeks.”
“So if you go in now, you could be out by January.”
“I haven’t said I’d do it.”
“What?” Jory leaned forward, as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “I don’t understand.”
Melissa flung the shell far into the sea. It shattered the path the moonlight made on the water. “It’s my body and my treatment, and I haven’t decided to go ahead with it.”
“But … you have to!” Jory’s eyes grew wide, her palms clammy. “The odds … ”
“Screw the odds.” Melissa’s voice had gone calm and steely. “I’m not sure I want to be part of some grand experiment.”
“But they must do this operation all the time. I read where they transplant whole hearts and livers. Surely a little bone marrow—”
Melissa interrupted. “But this time it’s me, Jory. It’s not some stranger in the newspaper.”
“What are you gonna do?” Jory couldn’t keep her voice from wavering as she asked the question.
“I don’t know … Which brings us back to our original discussion, doesn’t it? Maybe God’s already decided what I’m going to do. Just like He decided that I was going to have leukemia.”
Always and Forever Page 17