All of a sudden all this stuff I didn’t even know I had inside me burst out. “I feel cheated,” I blurted out. “I feel alone sometimes, even though he’s there with me.” I burst into tears. “And I feel so selfish for thinking of myself.”
“You don’t deserve to be thought of?”
“I’m not the one who’s— No, I guess I don’t.”
“Doesn’t Jesse think of you?”
I saw a box of tissues on his bookcase and headed for them, snatching one. “Yes.” I sat back down and blew my nose.
“If you’re worthy of him, why aren’t you worthy of yourself?”
“It’s wrong to worry about me.” I got up again. This time I took the whole box back to my seat; it was a tan marble color. He’d bought tissues to match the office. “Jesse’s the one suffering.”
“Sam, you’re suffering, too. You can’t hold everything inside. Your mother called me about what happened today.”
“Wonderful.”
“You’re grieving the loss of your father and the potential loss of your boyfriend. You need to let your grief out, willingly or otherwise.”
“You see me crying here, don’t you, goddamn it?”
“Who are you crying for?”
I stared at him, stricken. That question hurt so much, but I didn’t know why. I jumped out of my seat, flung open the door, and ran into Jesse’s arms.
“What, what?” he asked, gripping me as I sobbed into his shirt.
“Sam, please come back in,” I heard Dr. Chadwick say behind me. I shook my head no. “Jesse, you come, too. We’ll tell Mrs. Everfield it was my idea.”
I wheezed from the effort of crying. I’d gathered a fistful of Jess’s shirt with one hand, and my other one rested on his head. It had a slightly gritty feeling—hair follicles were starting to push their way out. They wouldn’t get far; the chemo drugs had cleared out of him, but those doctors were just gonna put him through it again. And I pushed him to let them.
“C’mon, Sam. Let’s go back in.” Jesse’s voice was a lullaby.
I released his shirt, got off of him, reached for his hand as he got up.
***
“Sam,” Dr. Chadwick said when we were seated back inside, “you’re feeling guilty about the pain you’re in. You seem to think that it takes away from Jesse. Can you see that?”
I looked into the lamplight and didn’t answer.
“You’re caring for him, but you need to take care of yourself, too. It’s like when you’re on an airplane and they give the emergency instructions. Have you ever paid attention to them?”
Again I said nothing. Jesse took my hand, pressed warmth into it. But still I faced the light.
“They say that when the oxygen masks drop, you have to secure yours first, and then place it on someone needing assistance. You’re no good to someone else—someone depending on you—if you don’t help yourself.”
True, I had to admit.
“If you lose consciousness, what will happen to Jesse?”
I looked at Jess, looked into his beautiful eyes. I so didn’t want anything to happen to him.
“But I can’t help him anyway—”
“Sam.” Now Jess was crying. “You do help me. That’s what I was trying to say earlier. I couldn’t get through this without you. I was lost in my anger; you brought me back.” I didn’t know what I’d done with the tissues, so I wiped at his eyes with my fingers.
“I’m here for you, too. I love you,” he said. He kissed my cheek.
Dr. Chadwick leaned forward in his chair. “The important thing, Sam, is not to deny your emotions. Let the sorrow out and it’ll go. Hold it in, and you’ll choke on it.”
That was easy to say, just let it out. But I was afraid I’d be destroyed by what I’d be unleashing.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I could try, I guess.”
“Okay, Sam. That’s a good start. And I’m going to help you help yourself.” Dr. Chadwick smiled. He really was an all right guy, for a shrink. “I just can’t do it unless you’re willing. Does that make sense to you?”
“Yeah,” I said. I shifted my feet; they kicked against the tissue box. I picked it up, plucked a tissue, and blew hard.
***
We talked a while longer, about how I felt when Jesse had his treatments, when he was in intense pain, when I was away from him in school. I answered all kinds of questions about me. Then the doctor asked me how I saw the future.
I knew the answer, but I wasn’t sure I should say it; I was afraid I’d get committed or something. But then, I did.
I said, “I don’t want to live without Jess.”
Chapter Fifteen
Dr. Chadwick didn’t send for the guys in white coats. He said he wasn’t even gonna tell my mom. Our session was confidential, and nobody except Jesse knew. He looked a lot more upset than Dr. Chadwick, but he didn’t say a word. Dr. Chadwick said we’d cross that bridge if we came to it, and he thanked me for my honesty.
Opening up like that felt pretty good. I felt lighter. Jess, however, looked like he was weighted down with an anvil.
Jess and I held hands when we left. We didn’t talk in the elevator or in the lobby, and not even on the sidewalk until we were half a block away. He stopped short just as we reached the corner curb, and pedestrians brushed past on both sides. He leaned into me and his lips against my ear.
“Sam, you’ve got to knock all this suicide crap out of your head. I’ve got so much to worry about as it is… .”
I didn’t say anything, just watched the flashing red words: don’t walk. don’t walk.
He pulled away now, staring. He took my other hand and squeezed them both. “What about all that stuff you said about me not being gone … about me being in your heart? Was that just bs?” His fingers pressed hard into my hands, just below the point of inflicting pain. I looked away again, at the solid red sign: don’t walk. Fine with me; with every step I took, I was avoiding a hidden land mine.
I wanted so badly to rest. To stop walking.
I turned back to Jess—faced the burden in his eyes. “No, of course it wasn’t bullshit,” I said in a whisper, not afraid of the people passing by hearing me, but of hearing the words myself. More burden.
“But you don’t want to do it anymore, is that it?” he said. “You’re just going to cop out on both of us?”
By now my hands were red from the pressure; numbed.
The sign flashed to green. walk.
“Sam, promise me you’ll stop thinking all this crazy shit.” He squeezed into my palms deeper. A throbbing broke through the numbness. “Promise me.”
Words teetered at my lips, unwilling to go further, even though I wanted so badly to make Jess feel better. I tried getting them out, tried to make them go. “I—” How can I swear to something I don’t know I can do? “I promise I’ll try, okay?”
He stared into me for what seemed like forever. Finally he nodded slowly, dropping my hands. “I guess.” His lips trembled. He looked away now, toward the park. Green leaves shifted back and forth in the wind.
I wiggled my fingers, felt warm sensation creeping back into them. Is it better to be numb, to feel none of the pain we’re in? Would I want to live like that, if I could? Would that be living? Or is it better to just stop walking?
Jess still stared at the trees. What is he feeling, really? I couldn’t have a clue, couldn’t know what it was like to start treatments over and over, with almost no hope… .
Treatments. Shit!
It was then that I remembered. Jess’s new experimental treatment was starting, and with all that had happened in the past two days, we hadn’t even talked about it. I reached for Jess’s hands, fit my fingers around his. He looked back at me, his face filled with sorrow and fear.
“You’re nervous about tomorrow, aren’t you,” I said.
Jess was scheduled to go in the next day for the preliminary work on his new stem cell treatment. He was going to be in the hospital for six days. It’d be
en in my mind, but it got pushed back by what had happened last night.
A lot was riding on that treatment. It wasn’t Jesse’s “last hope”—the doctors had a bunch of experimental treatments to try—but they’d made it clear it was probably his best hope by far.
Jesse sighed and clutched my hands tightly. “I feel all jittery again, like I’m back to the beginning.”
“It’ll be okay.”
“I hate the hospital. I hate the smell of it… .”
“I’ll stay with you as much as possible—you know that. And I’ll make sure you get a great send-off tonight.”
He smiled now. “Who would’ve thought that a priss like you could degenerate so quickly?”
“You knocked the priss right out of me,” I said, leaning against him, enjoying the feel of his heartbeat. I loosened one hand from his and stroked his back. “Let’s get a room.”
“How? We need ID, don’t we?” He released my other hand, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“I heard a couple of girls talking about a hotel on Fourteenth near Eighth Avenue that doesn’t ask for anything except cash. It was popular on prom night.”
“Fourteenth and Eighth?” His warmth breath tickled the inside of my ear. “Not the best neighborhood… . ”
“Not the worst, either,” I said, sliding my hand down to his butt and squeezing.
“True.” He held me tight, so tight. “Call your mom. Let her know we’re going out.”
***
“Mom?” I could barely hear her through the static. I’d never had luck with cells, which was why I rarely used my phone. Jess was sitting on a hydrant, talking to his mom. I paced, trying to find clear airwaves.
“Sam? Where are you?”
“I’m down the block from Dr. Chadwick’s.”
“How was your session?” I could hardly understand her through the “ssshhh” sound, which didn’t stop no matter how much I shifted my position.
“Good.” The don’t walk sign again flashed red: an endless cycle.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“That’s wonderful, baby.” She didn’t press for more and I didn’t offer it.
“Listen … I just wanted to let you know … Jess and me—we’re going out. In case you checked his apartment later and got worried.”
The static was enough to make me scream. I marched around the corner, and finally the line was clear. “What did you say, Mom?” It had sounded like “Don’t go on a Boeing.”
“I said, ‘Where are you going?’ ”
That’s what I was afraid she’d said. I paused. “Do you really want to know?” A guy in a suit walking by stopped for a second, thinking I was asking him.
Now she paused. “Sam … just come home. I’ll give you guys privacy, okay? I don’t want you out there, in some seedy dive. … ”
I imagined my bed creaking away. “Mom, I can’t do that. I just can’t. We’ll be okay.”
“I’m not stupid, Sam. The Hilton’s not going to let two underage kids check in.”
“We’ll be fine.” There was a squealing of tires, then a car horn honked long and loud.
Mom sighed. “Is this my punishment for writing smut all these years? If I switch to Christian writing, will things be different?”
“Only with your royalty checks.”
She laughed. “Amen to that.” There was another long pause. “Be careful, baby. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
I went back around the corner; Jess was just hanging up with his mom. A bus roared by with a big ad on its side for ABC’s newest hit comedy.
“Your mom okay with it?” he asked, rising from his perch. Grey smoke billowed from the bus’s rear in great puffs.
“Sort of… . What about yours?”
“I told her we were going to dinner and a movie or something. She asked what time we need to be at the hospital tomorrow. She’s coming.”
“Huh … what do you make of that?”
“I’m thinking maybe there’s a bunch of elves slaving away up at the North Pole, and some reindeer taking flight practice, too.”
Jess settled his arms around me and nibbled on my ear.
If only Saint Nick could drop ship a miracle our way.
***
The hotel’s neighborhood leaned more toward the worst than the best. The hotel itself seemed days from closure by building inspectors: chunks were missing from the brick facade, and the rusted fire escape looked none too sturdy. But we were there, we were horny, and we were going in.
As expected, Jesse had no problem renting a room. While he checked in using two bullshit names, I took in what was supposed to be a lobby: a dimly lit narrow hallway with one rickety wooden folding chair. Fly strips were hanging from the ceiling—at least, I guessed that’s what they were; they looked like unraveled rolls of film, but flies were stuck to them. The speckled linoleum floor had probably been black and white at some point, but it was now black and brown from the layers of filth caked on it. But the most alarming thing about the place was the desk clerk’s distinct resemblance to Norman Bates. I hoped he wouldn’t mention his mother.
Jesse finished checking in, the clerk gave me this seriously creepy smile, and we got on the elevator, which barely held the two of us. Not too many people must have checked in with luggage in this place. After a shaky elevator ride that tossed us like salad, we got off on the fourth floor. The lighting in the hallway made the lobby look like Times Square; I would’ve been scared, but anticipation was the stronger emotion at the moment.
Jess flicked on the light in our room, and I could’ve sworn things were scampering into corners. The bed was more like a prison cot, the lamp had no shade, and the hotel’s hourly rates red neon sign flashed incessantly outside our window.
“Paradise it’s not,” I told him.
Jess took me in his arms, kissed me, stroked me, and nudged me toward the bed. We fell on it with a squeak of springs and a thud, practically sinking to the floor. The blanket felt rough. The pillows were flat. But we were alone, together.
And Jesse was strong, the strongest he’d ever been with me. He took charge, and it was damn thrilling. What a rush—to be loved with such force.
Where is all this energy coming from?
As if he he’d heard my thought, Jesse whispered in my ear, “Tonight, while I can, I want to show you how much I love you.”
That boy loved me a lot.
Chapter Sixteen
Jesse was going to be part of a clinical trial, which meant they were going to try an experimental treatment on him and see if it worked. Put like that, it didn’t sound too hopeful—Jess being a human guinea pig so the doctors could try some unproven technique. But the proven techniques weren’t working for Jess—they’d never worked for anyone with his kind of cancer—and clinical trials were his only hope.
Dr. Raab had found a few he thought had promise, that would give Jesse a chance. He recommended one protocol combining high doses of chemotherapy and total body radiation, followed by a stem cell transplant. He believed that because the treatment was so aggressive and combined these three factors, it was Jesse’s best shot.
When Jess first told me about the new treatment, I looked for information about it online. The stem cell transplant at the end of the treatment was supposed to heal the bone marrow destroyed by the large doses of chemo and radiation. The doctors were using Jesse’s own stem cells for the transplant, so they had to remove them first. That’s what he was going into the hospital for now—they were giving Jesse medicine for five days to increase his stem cell production. Then they’d draw blood and pass it through a machine to remove the cells. Then the stem cells would be treated with drugs to destroy any cancer that might be there. They’d be frozen while Jess underwent the chemo and radiation.
They were keeping him in the hospital for the five days, plus the day they were taking the blood; then he could come home. He had two weeks off, and then for three weeks, he’d go in e
very three days for his chemo treatments. Once they did the radiation, he’d be back in the hospital for at least three weeks because his immune system would be too weak to be exposed to the outside world.
***
Jess stopped short in the doorway of his hospital room; I was right behind and banged into him.
“Sorry!” I waited for him to move or at least say something, but he didn’t. “Jess?”
“Jesse, what’s the matter?” Gwen—the new, compassionate Gwen—said, coming around me.
But he just stood there, his hands gripping the door frame. After a few moments he turned to us.
“I don’t think I want to do this.”
“What?” Gwen and I asked in unison.
“If chemo and radiation are supposed to be helping me, why am I in such worse shape when I’m getting them? Since I’ve been off treatment, I feel so much better.” His eyes were sad, so sad. “I’m going to be worse, aren’t I? With higher doses of chemo, I might not be able to walk.” I could see he was holding back tears. He hated that damned wheelchair more than anything. He hadn’t needed it in so long… .
“You don’t know that, Jess. I’m sure—,” I began.
“Jesse, you need to do this,” Gwen said, cutting me off. “The regular treatments weren’t working.”
His tears were falling now, and Jesse clung to the door frame like we were going to try and force him into the room.
I hung back, trying to let Gwen do the mom thing, but why didn’t she hug him or something? She looked like she wanted to, actually—to hug him. She raised her arms like she was going to, but then just left them in the air, frozen, until she dropped them again. I felt kind of bad for her. It had to suck, being like that. Trapped by the barriers she’d created.
“Jesse, go in,” Gwen said. It sounded more like a plea. But he was so wrapped up in himself, I’m not sure he heard her.
“Excuse me, Gwen,” I said finally, brushing past her. I couldn’t stand watching any longer; at the moment, he needed more than she could give him.
He fell into my arms. “C’mon, Jess. Let’s go sit on the bench in the hall.” I guided Jess past Gwen, who said nothing.
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