The Last First Game

by Gina Azzi

  Cade walks into the waiting room, smiling at us. “Li?” he asks, holding out his hand. “We’ve got a few minutes. Take a walk with me?”

  “Sure,” I agree, standing up.

  “You can leave your stuff, dear. I’ll be here,” Mrs. Wilkins says, gesturing to my shoulder bag and the snacks I’ve procured.

  “Thanks.”

  I take Cade’s hand and allow him to lead me from the waiting room, down the corridor, outside to a little patio. Despite the sunshine, the wind is cool and I shiver, snuggling deeper into my sweater. Cade walks to the edge of the patio, his hands rest on the railing, he breathes in deep and smiles. The sunlight washes over him and he looks genuinely happy.

  “Whatever happens today—”

  “Cade—”

  “No, please, Lila, let me say it.” He pauses for a moment.

  I nod. Emotion clots my throat and my eyes fill with moisture, but I keep my feelings in check. It’s not fair to Cade if I start crying, especially when he clearly has things he wants to say.

  “Whatever happens today, whatever the outcome, thank you for getting me through this.”

  My mouth falls open. “I didn’t. I—”

  “You were my rock. You are my rock. Your strength and courage has been a comfort and a motivator for me. Your love and support has kept me going. You’ve given me a future to hope for and dream about.” He chuckles lightly. “It’s definitely not the future I ever thought about before or cared about having, but now that I met you, I want it with you Lila. And I’m grateful for that alone, regardless of what happens today and tomorrow and all this …” He gestures to his leg. “I love you,” he says it so simply, his shoulders rising and falling lightly, his smile lighting up his face.

  His honesty astounds me, but also fills me with a security, a safety, a reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed. “I love you too.”

  “I’m glad.” He chuckles again. “This is for you.” He hands me a small box, wrapped neatly in gold paper and tied with a purple bow. “It reminded me of you. Beautiful and unique.”

  “Thank you.” I reach out, taking the box.

  “Well don’t thank me yet. Open it.”

  “Okay.” I laugh, ripping into the package like a child. When I lift the top of the box, my breath catches in my throat. It’s stunning, elegant, and so me: a thin white gold chain with a diamond snowflake pendant hanging delicately. I finger the pendant, tracing the pattern of the snowflake. “I love it.”

  “Good. Will you wear it? Be my good luck charm?”

  “Of course.”

  Cade takes the necklace from my hands and sweeps my hair to one side. I feel his fingers fumble on my neck as he releases the clasp and settles the necklace around my neck. He kisses the back of my neck lightly. “Thank you.”

  I close my eyes and breathe him in, memorize the moment. The weight of Cade’s hands on my shoulders, the warmth he presses into my back, the brush of his lips across my neck. And the love that he has for me.

  Cade loves me.

  * * *

  Cade’s surgery is estimated to last about four hours. Four long, agonizing hours. My shoulder bag is filled with games—Scrabble, Uno, Jenga—a deck of cards, beef jerky, chocolate bars, and cans of Diet Coke. Kristen, Sam, Miers, and Hendrix stop by after an hour. Kristen, Sam, and I disappear to the cafeteria where we munch on chocolate muffins and take a minute to have a tearful good-bye. This is it. Kristen and Sam are leaving campus today. Although the timing isn’t ideal, I’m grateful to them for stopping by the hospital to have one last Three Amigos moment.

  “I’m going to miss you guys,” Kristen says truthfully.

  “Samesies,” Sam agrees, biting into his muffin.

  “Sam, how did you even book flights that quickly for St Barts?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “Called my dad.”

  “Naturally.” I roll my eyes.

  After another moment, we all stand awkwardly, placing our muffin wrappers on the plastic tray and walking slowly to the garbage can. At the entrance to the cafeteria, we all stop abruptly, stare at each other, and burst out laughing.

  “Okay…” Kristen fixes me with a look “…I’m dropping Sam at the airport. Then I’ll be back to pick up Joe. He wants to wait for Cade to finish surgery before we hit the road. I can’t believe I’m spending Christmas with him.”

  “So this is good-bye?” I ask them, looking around at our dismal surroundings. The cafeteria of the hospital.

  Sam shrugs. “At least it’s decorated.” He points to the Christmas tree in the corner and the sadly hanging tinsel on the walls.

  Kristen laughs. “I think it’s appropriate. After all, the medical internship brought us all together. And we have spent an absurd amount of time here…” she gestures to the cafeteria “…this semester.”

  I laugh. “That’s true. And sad.”

  Kristen leans forward and envelopes me in a hug. “I’m proud of you, Lila. Hang in there and this will all get easier.”

  I’m momentarily choked up by her honesty, her ability to say exactly what she’s thinking out loud and with confidence. “Thank you, Kristen.”

  “Thank you for being my favorite roommate ever.”

  I laugh. “You too.”

  “Alright, ladies, stop being so dramatic and let me in!” Sam says, putting an arm around both of us. He kisses both of our heads lightly, and we walk to the main entrance.

  “Reunion in New York next year?” I ask hopefully.

  “Promise,” Sam agrees.

  Sam and Kristen each kiss my cheek good-bye and wave as they walk out the main sliding doors into the sunshine and turn toward the parking lot. I watch them go and feel a sinking sensation in my stomach.

  I’m really going to miss them.

  * * *

  We’re three hours into Cade’s surgery. Mr. Wilkins, Hendrix, and Miers went down to the cafeteria about twenty minutes ago to buy sandwiches for lunch. For now, it’s just Mrs. Wilkins and me.

  Well, us and another family sitting across the waiting room. I watch the rise and fall of a little girl’s chest as she naps in her mother’s arms. She’s sucking her thumb. Her mother brushes her hair back from her forehead absently, staring at the floor. Her husband sits next to her, his right knee bouncing jauntily. They’re seven-year-old son is also in surgery. I watch them momentarily, distracted by the grief etched in the folds of their skin, the uncertainty clouding their eyes, the doubt that flows through their jerky movements.

  “What made you want to pursue social work?” Mrs. Wilkin’s asks me suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Sorry?”

  “What made you want to work with young girls? Have you always been interested in working with adolescents?” She eyes me, recalling our conversation from last night. Her hands knit at a rapid pace, the bundle of yarn in her lap bouncing as she shifts her weight.

  “No, uh, not really. It was a recent decision.” I avert my gaze, watch as my Converse sneaker traces a path in the carpet.

  “Hmm,” Mrs. Wilkin’s comments. “Did it have something to do with what happened to you this semester?” she asks boldly.

  My mouth drops open and I feel the rush of heat traveling up my neck and flooding my face. “Did Cade tell you?”

  “Relax, love. I’m sorry I startled you.” She leans forward, placing her knitting on the chair beside her. “Cade didn’t tell me anything. He would never betray your trust like that.” Her eyes pierce mine, serious and truthful.

  I relax slightly, shifting in my chair.

  “I know Cade. Something must have spurred him to make that announcement on ESPN the way he did.” She smiles lightly. “Then when I saw him with you last night, the way he watches over you, always glancing over to check that you’re okay…” she shakes her head “…I’ve never seen him so aware of someone else, their presence, their mood, their feelings. He’s in love with you.”

  I swallow thickly, my throat suddenly dry. I take a sip of my now cold coffee, gra
teful for something to do with my hands. “I love him too,” I whisper.

  Mrs. Wilkins waves her hand at me. “I know you do, love. It’s written all over your face.”

  I flush.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s beautiful. Love, love is the most important thing by far. It’s something I always regretted that Jared didn’t experience before he died.” She smiles at me weakly. “He … Jared … he would have made an incredible husband to the woman who would have finally captured his heart.” She shakes her head softly. “I never thought Cade would fall so soon, but I’m so glad he found you. And I’m so happy for him that he did. I’m truly sorry for what happened to you. There are no words I can say to try and understand or console you. But just as you have been mending the soul and spirit of Cade, I think he is doing the same for you. And if you two can get through what you have overcome in the past few months, I think you can withstand anything.” She pats my hand gently. “Be happy. Follow your heart. Choose the path that will help you heal and everything else will fall into place. If you think pursuing a career in social work will bring you personal peace and happiness and professional satisfaction, then do that. Don’t look back Lila. Don’t try and justify your decision to anyone. Only you know how to make yourself whole. And I know Cade will support you through all of it.” She leans back in her chair and resumes her knitting.

  I stare at her for several moments, digesting her words, realizing that in one day she was able to understand me, read me, better than my own parents. I check my watch. Cade has one hour of surgery left.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Wilkins. Will you excuse me for a moment?”

  She waves her hand, offering me a knowing smile. “Of course, dear.”

  And now, it’s time for me to be brave too.

  * * *

  He answers on the first ring. “Lila. I’m so happy you called, sweetheart.”

  I lean against the blue ribbon on the wall, awkwardly comforted by its presence. “Hi, Dad.”

  “How are you, Lila?” He sounds different, as if his air of self-assurance has deflated.

  “I’m doing okay. How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  Several moments of silence. Awkward.

  Dad clears his throat. “How’s Cade?”

  Hmm, Brandon must have filled him in. “He’s in surgery right now. But he’s going to be okay.”

  “Good,” Dad grunts.

  “I’ve decided what I want to do after graduation.”

  He doesn’t say anything, so I continue.

  “I want to become a therapist. I’m going to apply for a master’s program in social work. I want to work primarily with adolescent girls who have experienced sexual assault, abuse, and violence.” I swallow, closing my eyes as I rest my head against the wall. “I still want to help people, Dad. I just don’t want to do it as a doctor.”

  A measured pause, followed by, “Oh, well, hmm, good for you, Lila. It’s good that you have sorted out your next steps.”

  Huh? This coming from the man that was adamant that I pursue medical school.

  “Are you sure?” I blurt out.

  He laughs, but it’s strained. “Yes. I’m sure if you are. I didn’t realize how much pressure I was putting on you. How much pressure I put on Brandon to be something he’s not. After everything that happened to you this semester, after everything that’s happened with your mother …” He sighs. “I’m not explaining this well. I guess I’m just realizing I didn’t handle a lot of things well, did I?”

  Is that a rhetorical question?

  “Um.”

  “It’s okay.” He laughs again. It sounds like wind through a cracked window. “I know I’ve messed up. I don’t want to keep pushing you away, Lila. If this is what you’ve decided to pursue, well let me know if I can assist in anyway. I have a lot of contacts in the mental health field.”

  I laugh, in awe of his response and also a mixture of frustration and gratefulness that he wants to be involved. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Well then, you let me know how Cade pulls through. Brandon says you’re spending Christmas in California?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to spend the holiday with Cade.”

  “Okay. Well, when you come back home, it would be nice to go to dinner. Just the two of us. If you want,” he adds hastily.

  “I’d like that, Dad. Thanks.”

  “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you soon then.”

  “Bye.”

  After ending the call, I slide down the wall, along the blue ribbon, until I am sitting cross-legged at the end of the corridor. That was unexpected. I was ready to battle Dad’s disappointment, or frustration, or at the very least some condescending remarks. But his support?

  A smile curls my lips upwards.

  Maybe being brave has its advantages.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Cade

  My last coherent thought as I breathe in anesthesia and watch the calm eyes of the anesthesiologist crinkle in a smile above his blue mask is of Lila. Lila wearing the snowflake necklace I bought her. The way the diamonds caught in the sunlight, throwing facets of shimmer into the air.

  Lila’s golden hair and blue eyes.

  Lila.

  Snowflakes.

  Good luck charm.

  Victory is ours.

  * * *

  When I wake, Dr. Somers claps my forearm warmly. “Surgery went well, Cade. We were able to remove the entire tumor. The edges will be tested for remnants of the cancer. Rest now. You can visit with your family in a little while.”

  My eyes flutter closed and I go back to my dreaming. Evergreen Christmas trees, snow-covered mountains, cherry ice. And a blond halo hovering over an angel’s face. She has blue eyes and a warm smile.

  * * *

  “Close your eyes and dream of sleep,

  Of clouds and rainbows and ocean deep,

  Of love that shelters and angels that keep,

  You safe in dreams of a great big sleep.”

  Mamma’s soft voice flows into my consciousness, but my eyelids are too heavy to open. She’s singing a song she used to hum while rocking Jared and me to sleep. The click of her knitting needles intersperse her moments of silence. Her presence is an immediate comfort to me. I breathe out deeply, feeling my throat constrict with soreness. My fingers clench in reflex.

  “Cade?” Mamma whispers near my ear. Her breath feels cool against my cheek.

  My right eye opens slowly, followed by my left.

  “Hi, Cade,” Mamma says softly. “You’re in the hospital. You’re surgery went well. Don’t try to talk, love,” she says, noticing how my mouth opens and closes but no words come out.

  Moments later, the nurse, my favorite nurse Michelle, walks through the door. “Welcome back, Cade.” She smiles brightly, checking the machines that beep in the background. “You did wonderfully.”

  At that reassurance and Mamma’s smiling face, I fall back into a peaceful sleep.

  * * *

  I’m dimly aware of Miers’s hand squeezing my shoulder gently. “See you in the New Year, brother.”

  * * *

  The smell of lavender and vanilla wakes me again. Lila is sitting next to my bed, her fingers brushing up and down my wrist in small circles.

  “Hi,” I croak, the words sticking in my throat.

  “Hey there,” she whispers. Her eyes are big and shiny, unshed tears collected in the corners.

  “I’m happy to see you.”

  “I’m happy to be here. How do you feel? Don’t try to talk if it hurts.”

  I shake my head slightly and take a few breaths, gesturing toward the bottle of water on the bedside table. Lila twists off the cap and pours some of the water into a glass. She places a straw in the glass and holds it to my lips. The cool water is soothing on my throat.

  “I feel okay. I don’t feel too bad, so I’m guessing the pain meds are still in full effect?”

  Lila laughs and nods, indicating the IV drip inserted into my arm.
>
  “How did everything go?”

  “Very well. Dr. Somers is pleased with the surgery. They were able to remove the entire tumor and insert the prosthesis without any problem. Now they want to make sure you don’t develop any type of infection. Otherwise, you should be able to get out of here in a week or so.”

  I smile. I survived the surgery. I can go home in a week.

  “Good timing. Want to have Christmas with me?”

  “That sounds perfect.” Lila leans forward and kisses me lightly on the lips. She tastes like cherry ice and snow.

  * * *

  Two day’s after surgery, I’m sitting in the hospital bed, watching reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, when a light tap sounds on the door.

  “Come in,” I say, surprised, since no one ever knocks on the door. People barge in and out at all hours of the day and night, checking my IV, taking my blood pressure, temperature, etc.

  “Wilkins.” Coach nods at me, entering the room. His frame fills up the doorway, his signature Astor zip-up pulled up at the sleeves. He’s holding a tan backpack, swinging it lightly by his side.

  “Hey, Coach.”

  “How’s it going, ten?” He sits down on the chair by my bedside, crossing his right foot over his left knee. He leans to the side and places the backpack next to the chair.

  “It’s going. Surgery was successful. I start chemo again in about three weeks. In the meantime, I’m ready to get out of here.” I gesture to the hospital room.

  “I bet. How’s the pain?”

  “Manageable.” I hold up my arm with the IV drip attached.

  Coach laughs. “I see that.”

  “How are you? Are you heading home for Christmas?” I ask hesitantly. Coach never discusses his personal life, but I feel like we are way past that now.

  He nods. “Yep. Going to see my niece and nephew in Michigan. My sister’s kids.”

  “That’s nice.”