Fix You

by Mari Carr

  She’d exhausted the past few weeks listening to the doctors as they explained everything to her. She’d spent hours with the wine girls as they told her story after story of women they knew who’d overcome cancer to lead fuller, richer lives. She’d sat beside Robbie as he researched on the Internet, reading every positive thing he could find in regards to her cancer, while breezing over the bad stuff like it didn’t exist. She’d pretended not to see it too. He’d put them on that damn positive-thoughts diet and she’d gone along with it. She’d played the role of loving daughter, good patient, brave friend and strong woman because she sensed it was what the others needed from her.

  In reality, she was none of those things. It was taking all the strength in her body not to rip out the goddamn IV, scream at the top of her lungs for all of them to leave her the fuck alone and to run away. Far far away.

  She closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t do any of those things. She was trapped. Her chest constricted and she fought to center herself, to find one lousy happy place where she could retreat. She’d always considered herself so smart about stress management. When others freaked out, she was able to remain calm, cool and collected. She couldn’t find that ability now.

  Robbie’s finger stroked the top of her clenched fist. It startled her. She’d forgotten he was there.

  “You don’t have to stay the whole time.” The words were pulled from her almost painfully. Truth was she’d lose it if he tried to leave.

  He grinned. “I’m not going anywhere so save your breath.”

  “Four hours is a long time.”

  “I don’t have anywhere else to be. I brought my computer and headphones. Figure I can write my lyrics here as easily as at home.”

  “That chair looks uncomfortable.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Next time, I’ll bring a pillow.” He flipped her hand over and pried her fingers open as he laid his palm flat against hers. “Tell me what you need, Zoey.”

  She frowned. “I’m fine.”

  He scoffed and gave her a sad smile. “No, you’re not. You’re sitting there trying not to freak out. So tell me what you need. A pep talk? Peace and quiet? A quickie?”

  She laughed. “The quickie sounds tempting.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I’d put that goddamn IV in my own chest if I could.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “I know you would.”

  For the first time, she imagined how she’d feel if the roles were reversed. What if it was Robbie who’d been diagnosed with cancer? What if she was sitting in that horrible hard chair while he lay here in the recliner having the chemo pumped into his body? She’d hate it. Hate the helplessness, the worry. God, just the idea of him suffering put an unbearable ache in her gut. Both chairs in this room sucked.

  Her eyelids began to feel heavy. “The nurse said the medicine would make me drowsy.”

  “You sleepy?”

  She nodded. “A little. Robbie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Will you sing to me?” When he was first learning how to play guitar, he’d drag her into the garage or his bedroom or to a quiet place in the park and perform for her. Asking for her opinion of his voice or the lyrics to a song he’d written or just to show off. She’d loved every minute of it, always enjoying those quiet moments with him strumming the guitar, his voice soothing all the rough spots inside her away.

  Her happy place.

  “Here?”

  She looked around. They were the only two people in the small room, separated from the others by thin walls and a curtained door. Even if his voice carried, she didn’t think there was a person in this place who wouldn’t be comforted by Robbie’s singing.

  “Please.”

  “I play the guitar better than I sing. You know that.”

  “Liar. Mooching for compliments?”

  He squeezed her hand. “Yeah. And as always, you play hard to get. Fine. Let me think of something to sing.”

  He was quiet for a moment and she could imagine him filing through the thousands of songs in his head, trying to find the perfect one. She had no doubt whatever he chose, it would be the exact one she needed to hear.

  “Okay. I know you like this one. Wish I had my guitar.” He sang softly at first. Zoey recognized the song the second he started. She’d been right. He’d found the perfect song to calm her down. He sang “Something in the Way She Moves” so beautifully James Taylor would have been proud. His eyes never left her face. For the first time ever, she truly listened to the words and she was touched. Robbie left no doubt in her mind he meant them.

  As he finished the song, the nurse pulled back the curtain.

  Robbie glanced up. “I’m sorry. Was I too loud?”

  Jenna shook her head and smiled. “Not at all. In fact, a few of the patients would like you to sing the next one a little louder, so they can all hear. And the man next door has requested ‘Sweet Baby James’.”

  Zoey grinned as the nurse walked away. “My rock star,” she whispered.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “I call you a rock star all the time.”

  He kissed her hand. “Not that part, silly. I like the idea of being yours. Finally.”

  Her breath caught. She couldn’t find the words to say she’d considered him hers since she was ten years old and that he’d owned her heart just as long.

  Instead, she sidestepped. “I think your audience is waiting.”

  He grinned and started to sing again, a little louder this time. When he finished, applause came from the surrounding rooms. Zoey laughed when the woman across the hall requested “Carolina on my Mind”, while another voice down the hall shouted out “You’ve Got a Friend”.

  “Do you think they all believe James Taylor is in this room?” she teased.

  “God. See what you’ve started?”

  “I think it’s nice. This place needed some music.” She yawned.

  “Maybe so, but for now, I think it needs quiet. Try to get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me.” Robbie turned to his laptop and clicked a few buttons before putting on his headphones. He’d recorded several tracks last night so that he could spend today working on lyrics to fit the tunes he’d created. She’d watched him write at least a hundred songs over the years and she never ceased to be amazed by his talent.

  She blinked slowly, her eyes too heavy to hold open. She was just about to drift to sleep when she realized she wasn’t afraid anymore.

  She smiled, closing her eyes to dream of another time when Robbie had found the perfect song.

  Eighteen years earlier

  “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Robbie ducked beneath the limbs of one of the huge pines. “What are you doing here? You missed dinner and your mom is having a shit fit. She’s got your dad and me and half the neighborhood looking for you.”

  Zoey didn’t look up, didn’t reply.

  “Zoey? What’s wrong?” Robbie dropped to the ground, sitting beside her.

  “I missed my period.”

  She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, drop the bomb she’d been carrying around for the past three days on him, but she was scared sick and she needed to talk to somebody.

  “I don’t understand. You can’t be pregnant. You’re on the pill, right?”

  She closed her eyes, cursing her stupidity. She’d had sex one time. One fucking time. “Remember how I had bronchitis last month?”

  He nodded.

  “Apparently antibiotics sort of make the pill useless.” When she realized she’d missed her period, she’d done some research. The information she’d uncovered had obviously been too little, too late.

  Robbie’s jaw tightened. He’d been acting funny ever since she’d told him about her rather reckless, not entirely thought-out adventure in the backseat of Reese Carper’s car. She’d been dating Reese for almost two months and she genuinely liked him. When things started to get a little hot and heavy, she’d decided why not go
all the way? Why not have sex? Why not get rid of her pesky virginity? Reese was good-looking and sweet and…

  Fuck. It had been a mistake. The sex had been awkward and uncomfortable. The condom—some antique Reese had been carrying around in his wallet since middle school—had broken. They’d tried to carry on the next day as if the sex had never happened, neither of them in any hurry to repeat the experience, but it created a strain. Finally, only a week after they’d done the deed, they’d decided to call it quits.

  One mistake. She’d made one mistake and it looked as if she was about to spend a lifetime paying for it.

  “You need to get a pregnancy test.”

  She nodded. “I know, but, God, Harrisburg’s not exactly a big town. If I buy one of those at the drugstore, my mother will know about it before I get out of the parking lot.”

  “Yeah. I guess so. I’ll drive you to Drexler tomorrow after school. You can tell your mom you have to stay late to work on a project or something.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  “I think that’s what I’m thankful for. You haven’t freaked out or yelled at me or called me an idiot.”

  Robbie picked up a pinecone, twisting it in his hands. “I considered it,” he teased. They laughed quietly, then he sobered up. “What are you going to do if you are pregnant?”

  “Keep it. We graduate in a few months. I guess I’ll skip the community college classes, get a job and try to find a way to make it work.”

  “You think your folks wouldn’t help you?”

  She shrugged. “I hope they would, but…” She was terrified of finding out how they’d respond. Zoey suspected her mother would cry, her father would look at her with disappointment in his eyes. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to face either of those reactions.

  “They’d help, Zoey. I’m sure of it. And I will too.”

  Her heart warmed with his offer. “Does this mean you’ll change all the poopie diapers?”

  He feigned a shudder. “Don’t get carried away. I just meant I’ll marry you. Make an honest woman of you.”

  She burst out laughing. “Oh my God. Can you imagine the two of us married? We’d kill each other within a year.”

  Robbie’s grin grew. “What? No way. Once you get down that obey part, we’ll be fine.”

  She punched him in the arm. “Hell would freeze over before I obeyed you or any man.”

  Robbie shook his head and pretended to be saddened by her answer. “Now, now. That’s no way for my little woman to talk.”

  “Ugh. You are insane.”

  “Maybe, but I mean it, Zoey. I’ll help you anyway you need. Money, babysitting, writing lullabies. You name it. It’s yours. And for what it’s worth, I think you’d make an awesome mother.”

  She was touched by his sweet gesture. Somehow the world didn’t seem as bleak as it had a few minutes earlier. “Thanks.”

  “So we have a date at the drugstore tomorrow?”

  She nodded. She’d been terrified by the prospect of buying the pregnancy test. Knowing Robbie would be with her made that trip easier to face.

  “Ready to go home?”

  Rather than respond, she stood, then reached down to help him up. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  He held her hand as they left the park, making her laugh the whole way back to her house with his cheesy, over-the-top Paul Anka impersonation, singing “Having My Baby”.

  She opened her eyes and looked at Robbie’s profile. He wore his headphones and his lips moved silently in time with the music only he could hear. Every now and then, he’d type something. She smiled softly. He was in what he called “the zone”. She loved watching when he got lost in his music. While she knew he loved performing, she never saw him happier than at moments like this, when it was just him and a new tune begging for words. He’d claimed to be a better guitar player than singer, but she felt like his true talent lay in writing the songs. He was a poet and composer rolled into one beautiful package.

  She sighed as the rest of her memory returned. They’d never made the trip to the drugstore. Her period had come during the night. Secretly Zoey credited Robbie for that miracle. She’d been so stressed out, wound up so tightly, she’d obviously fucked up her own system. Robbie had relieved the anxiety and made her laugh.

  Maybe lightning would strike twice. Maybe he’d save her again. Despite her fears and anxieties, she felt stronger when he was around. There was something in the way he moved that made her feel fine.

  Chapter Five

  Zoey dashed by him the second he took two steps inside the townhouse. He listened as she darted up the stairs, the bathroom door slamming behind her. Loud gagging followed. Rob closed the door and tried to block out the sound. Zoey had endured her first two chemo treatments with poise, grace, courage, even humor. He’d sensed only a few moments of fear at the beginning and then, in true Zoey form, she’d beaten back the monster and tolerated what needed to be done.

  Meanwhile he’d felt like a deer in the headlights as he sat beside her watching them insert the IV into the port she’d had implanted near her breastbone a month earlier. Jesus. Every single thing about cancer fucking sucked. He’d gone to all of Zoey’s doctor’s appointments, staying with her as much as he could while she had blood drawn, attending a chemo class with her and receiving instructions regarding her diet.

  Through everything, Zoey kept a stiff upper lip, accepting her fate with a positive attitude. She’d only cried once since the night she’d told him about her cancer. During the chemo class, they’d been given a brochure about sex drive during the treatments. The pamphlet warned that it would be difficult for her to achieve an orgasm. He recalled her face as Zoey squeezed her eyes closed to hold back angry tears.

  “Goddammit,” she said through gritted teeth. “Does this fucking disease have to take away everything?”

  Rob had tugged her close, wrapping her in his embrace. He’d whispered softly, “Don’t worry, Zoey. I’ve got moves you haven’t seen yet.”

  He’d been relieved when her tears evaporated, giving way to her beautiful laughter. God, please let him be able to follow-through on that particular promise. They hadn’t had sex since she’d started chemotherapy. She’d been too sick or tired and he’d been too terrified of hurting her. He knew the port was bothering her as she struggled each night to find a comfortable sleep position.

  More retching reached his ears and he swallowed heavily. He’d vowed they’d get through this, but there were days—like today—when he felt like punching someone until they ached as much as he did.

  Zoey had been warned this particular type of chemo could make her nauseous. The nurses had given her some medicine that was supposed to alleviate it, but from the sound of things, it wasn’t working.

  He climbed the stairs slowly until he reached the bathroom door. Knocking softly, he called out, “You okay, Zoey?”

  “Don’t come in here,” she said, the last word ending on a cough, a gag.

  He leaned against the door, sliding down until his ass hit the floor. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this shit was fair.

  Zoey continued to be sick as he sat in the hallway, feeling stupid, useless.

  Closing his eyes, he sought to find an escape. His mind landed on a memory of the night they’d graduated from high school. One of their fellow graduates decided to throw a field party. When he and Zoey got there, they discovered their friend had somehow managed to get a keg and there were lots of bottles of liquor floating around.

  Seventeen years earlier

  Rob wasn’t a stranger to alcohol. He’d attended more than his fair share of parties and had tried pretty much everything from beer to wine to liquor. He accepted the red plastic cup of beer from his friend and took a sip. It was warm and nasty. Since he was driving, he wasn’t looking to catch a buzz. He tipped out most of the beer and decided to walk around with the half-full cup the rest of the night to appease his friends. Knowing Jeff, he�
��d hound him relentlessly if he found out he wasn’t getting wasted.

  He’d lost Zoey to a couple of girls within minutes of arriving at the party, but he wasn’t surprised. She was pretty popular with their classmates. She was smart without being geeky, funny without being obnoxious, interesting without being a gossip. As a result, pretty much everyone liked her. He helped a couple of the other guys keep the big bonfire going by chopping up kindling and tossing it onto the flames. Jackie had driven his truck right into the center of the field and was blasting loud rap music from speakers set up in the bed.

  Rob found an empty beach chair someone had abandoned and stretched out next to the fire. He got a kick out of watching his friends get drunker and drunker as the night progressed. A few girls came over and tried to engage him in conversation. Sheila kept leaning closer, accidentally brushing her tits against his arm. She was flying pretty high, sucking down wine coolers like water. For a minute, he considered inviting her to join him in the backseat of his car. Why not? It wasn’t like he’d see her after tonight.

  Hell, he thought, as he glanced around, chances were good he’d never see most of these kids again. He’d spent the last thirteen years of his life growing up with them. They’d studied for exams together, pretended to read books for book reports, choked down disgusting school lunches, ditched classes, roughhoused in the local pool each summer, and he’d made out with more than a few of the girls. These kids had been his friends, his enemies, and some were still strangers.

  It was weird to think tomorrow they would start to disappear—one by one—to go off to college or join the military or move away to take a job in some far-off city. He wondered if he should be more depressed about that fact. Strangely, he wasn’t upset at all.

  There was only one person from this class he never wanted to lose contact with and that was Zoey. They’d discussed their plans for after graduation at length. Both of them intended to remain home a bit longer. Zoey had signed up to take paralegal courses at the community college near their town. It was a two-year program. Meanwhile, Rob was switching his status at the grocery store from part-time to full-time, working to save money for his own place. He was determined to make a career of his music, something his father was finally starting to accept…begrudgingly. He’d stay at home as long as he could, then he and Zoey were going to get a place together. She’d be the perfect roommate.