Beautiful Together

by Andrea Wolfe

  It couldn't be.

  ***

  Soon after the first hour passed by, Donna showed up. She was still in her dirty work clothes and reeked of cigarettes and beer, the byproduct of Friday night in the bar.

  "Oh, Naomi," she said, "what happened to my Mason?"

  I stood up and hugged her, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I don't know. He just fell. He was playing and then he wasn't."

  Donna went to the counter to check in, and I watched her body language. She was visibly stressed, exactly as I would have expected. She pleaded for information.

  "They're doing blood tests right now, Mrs. Ross. We won't know anything concrete until they're done."

  I sat and watched in disbelief, hoping and praying that somehow she'd get the information we both needed to assuage our worst nightmares—but it never came.

  I found my phone in my purse and called my mom. She sounded grumpy when she answered.

  "Hello?"

  "Mom!" I said. "Something happened to Mason. I'm staying here at the hospital with him. With his mom."

  "During the game? He got hurt?"

  "Yeah," I said quietly. "Kind of. We don't know what happened. He just collapsed." My dad was out of town this weekend; otherwise he would have been at the game to watch it all unfold. It was odd that this was the week he was away.

  "I'll keep him in my prayers," she said.

  I hung up on an okay note. Shortly after, the principal, Mr. Brown, showed up, clad in a windbreaker and jeans. It was odd to see him not in a suit and tie.

  "Hi, Mr. Brown," I said politely, shocked to see him. I hadn't ever really interacted with him before—I guess that was good because it meant I hadn't gotten into trouble—but I still felt comforted by his unexpected appearance.

  "Hi, Naomi," he said, approaching me. "How is Mason?"

  I jumped up and hugged him. "Oh, I don't know Mr. Brown!" I said between choked sobs. I lost it and quickly drenched his windbreaker with a stream of tears.

  He sat down with us, speaking privately with Donna for a few minutes. She was still just as distraught as I was, and that made my own grief feel a bit incongruent. I mean, here she was, totally uncertain about the fate of her own son, her own flesh and blood, the boy that she raised from birth.

  Obviously, Mason and I had been close—but it was never as close as mother and son.

  Mr. Brown stayed with us until his wife called around midnight. "Please, let me know when you hear something," he told Donna, handing her his card. "I'm sure everything will be all right."

  He disappeared down the hallway, and once again, it was just Donna and me. "Has he been okay lately, Naomi?" she asked. "I haven't seen him much. I've... been at Carl's a lot when I'm not working."

  I gulped hard, realizing that she obviously didn't know about his recent issues. As much as I didn't want to feel irresponsible, I needed to tell her the truth.

  "He didn't say anything to you?"

  She shook her head. "He looked a little tired the few times I saw him, but that was all."

  "He's been sick, Donna. He went to the doctor. They told him he would get over it soon, but he's just been getting worse. And he was too stubborn to go back."

  Tears welled up in her eyes. "Just like me," she said softly. "He learned it from me. I wish I would have known about all of this." She started sobbing and I hugged her.

  "Donna, it's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault." I felt my soul being crushed by a thousand tons of sadness. I wanted to reassure her, but I knew my words were worthless. Stupid, childish, obligatory. "I should have told you, but I thought he was gonna be fine."

  "He was too scared of being a burden," she said. "He was too scared to help himself."

  We sat huddled together, silent, waiting. Hospital employees passed by. People were probably dying in other parts of the building. I hadn't ever really been in a hospital. It was so numb, so sterile in so many ways.

  Suddenly a nurse peeked around the corner. "Donna Ross?" she asked.

  Donna jumped up, the action almost spring-loaded. "Yes? What is it? Can I see Mason?"

  "Ma'am, could you please take a seat?"

  Repulsive, odious sickness crept through my veins, polluting my body and mind as I stayed put, watching Donna lowering back into the chair. She nodded continuously during the descent.

  She wants us to be sitting down when she delivers the news.

  "We've finished doing the blood tests," the nurse said, swallowing hard. I could see her Adam's apple shifting in her throat. She took Donna's hand, gazing straight into her eyes with utmost professionalism.

  "What is it? Just tell me," Donna said intensely.

  "Your son has an abnormally low red blood cell count. Critically low."

  Neither of us responded because frankly, we didn't know what that meant other than that it must be bad news. We stared at her like two deer caught in the headlights, crossing the widest, most dangerous road in the world.

  The nurse remained steadfast, unfazed by our horrified expressions. "And his white blood cell count is abnormally high. I don't want to speak prematurely because this still warrants additional testing, but he might be dealing with leukemia."

  "Leukemia?" we both said.

  The nurse nodded. "Yes."

  "But he's so young," Donna pleaded.

  "It can still happen," she said. "But we don't know for sure. We're still running tests."

  "Well, what the hell do we do?" Donna asked.

  While I listened, I ran my fingers over each other, trying to feel something. But they were numb. Nothing there. Nerves that weren't firing. Dull, dry skin, no sensation.

  "We need to do a bone marrow examination to look for signs of leukemic myeloblasts." She noticed immediately that we didn't understand the medical jargon. "Leukemic cells, basically. I need your consent to go forward. Do you have insurance?" she asked.

  "Medicaid," she said. "But I want you to do it, even if it's not covered. I can't lose my son. Whatever it takes, I'll figure out a way."

  "We'll take a small portion of bone marrow out of his hipbone using a needle and then test it. He'll probably be sore for a couple of days, but that's all. We'll know shortly after that. We have a doctor in the building right now who can do the procedure."

  "Go ahead," Donna whispered. "He needs you."

  The nurse rose to her feet. "We'll do everything we can Mrs. Ross, I promise." She turned and disappeared down the long hall.

  The news had changed everything. Simple words that meant more than anything.

  We stayed there together all night, waiting for something.

  Waiting for anything.

  12

  Three months later...

  School had just gotten out. Christmas break had officially begun and well, Mason still had leukemia. Acute myeloid leukemia, more specifically. I read up on it after the diagnosis. I could barely bring myself to believe that the human body could malfunction so far as to cause something so utterly horrifying.

  But it could, and Mason was living proof. Well, barely living proof.

  After that fateful night, the bone marrow examination had confirmed our worst fears. The supposition was true—he was gravely ill.

  We were talking on the phone as I walked to my mom's car. Christmas was only a couple of days away. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it to the hospital that night, so I called him right after school.

  "I'm so pissed that the recruiters aren't even gonna consider me now," Mason said, venting. "Once I beat this, I'm going to be even better than I was before. I swear it."

  "I believe you, Mason. It's their loss, right?" I wanted to believe him, but, honestly, I really didn't.

  "Yeah, totally. I'll go to any school I want. I've already outlived the initial prognosis, right?"

  He loved to bring that up.

  "Yeah, you're doing awesome."

  Although he had grown more determined than ever, nobody knew how long he would live, or if he'd be receptive to treatment. Some peop
le made it through fine while others passed on within months. Sometimes even within weeks if it was bad enough. It had already been three months.

  My life had become a living hell, one plagued with constant morose emotions and weakness, faulty ups and consistent downs.

  The leukemia had been in remission several times. We silently cheered during those moments, knowing that we shouldn't get carried away. And that was a good decision, because the cancer was back once again, carrying out its familiar attack against his frail body.

  I felt like a sponge, constantly soaked and squeezed out, again and again.

  Our conversation eventually dwindled. That was normal when all your boyfriend ever did was fight for his life.

  "I'll try to make it there soon, okay? My mom wants me to help her with Christmas shopping tonight."

  "Yeah, sure. That's fine. My mom will be here later, too."

  I actually had plans to surprise him on Christmas Eve with Donna and Dennis. So even if I couldn't make it until then, it would be okay.

  Well, as okay as it ever was.

  ***

  Just as planned, Donna, Dennis, and I went to the hospital to surprise Mason on Christmas Eve. He had just finished a particularly rough batch of chemotherapy and didn't have much of an appetite. Dennis had just gotten into town the previous night and hadn't seen Mason in over two months.

  "Dennis!" Mason said, grinning. "I didn't expect to see you here."

  I could tell Dennis was surprised by Mason's gaunt appearance as he walked in, but he hid it well. "You look really good, bro," he said. "I got the week off from the pet store."

  Donna brought along Mason's favorite Christmas sugar cookies, chilled so the frosting was crunchy. "I brought your favorite cookies," she said excitedly.

  "Mom! Thanks so much," he said, smiling from his bed. "Naomi, you have to try some of these."

  "I had two of them on the way over," I confessed, trying hard to smile.

  Mason slowly started eating one. "It's so good," he said, stopping after one very tiny bite, holding the cookie like it was too heavy to lift to his mouth again. I looked away.

  Later, Donna informed me that he normally ate several dozen of them himself in a single sitting—that night he couldn't finish one.

  "It's just my gums," he complained. "They've been using the feeding tube lately. But I'll eat more later, I promise."

  "Don't worry, Mason," Donna said playfully, taking the cookie from his hand. "I'll take care of it for you." She quickly made it disappear.

  Mason's gorgeous hair was no more, a victim of the chemo. Just smooth, bare skin remained. He still smiled a lot, but he didn't have much to say. He seemed older, weathered, like he had rushed through the rest of his life in the past few months while held prisoner in a hospital bed.

  "I'm so sorry for doing this to all of you," he said, a phrase he uttered at least once every time we visited. It made me cry when I thought about it in my room at night. Hell, it made me cry when he said it, too. "I'm going to get better though, I know it."

  "Maybe we should do the presents now," I said to Donna, hoping to change the mood.

  "Yeah, you're gonna love what I got for you, Mason," Dennis announced proudly.

  We all brought him presents, along with a hulking stack of get-well cards from people at school. I had become the de facto mediator between the student body and him, a role I reluctantly accepted. The constant inquires about Mason really wore me down. I wanted to hide, but I also didn't want to cut him off from his peers.

  He loved to hear anything I could tell him about school. But with his compromised immune system, the doctors needed to severely limit outside visitors. The principal, along with his wife, came to visit numerous times. Outside of that, it was usually just Donna and me, sometimes together, sometimes not.

  Donna went first. She brought him a vintage Texas A&M sweatshirt that she found on eBay. "You'll go there someday," she said after he saw what it was.

  Mason smiled and lifted it cautiously, carefully, observing it in the dull light of the room. "Thank you so much! I love it."

  "Check this out," Dennis said, handing Mason a box.

  Mason turned it over in his hands. "What could it be? A guinea pig? A bearded dragon?"

  "Very funny, Mason," Dennis said sarcastically. "Open it and see."

  Dennis had somehow done better than anyone could have ever expected.

  "Oh my God, seriously?" Mason asked as he stared at the autographed football. He looked so shocked that I feared he might die right then and there from overwhelming happiness, which I guess wouldn't have been a bad thing given his condition. "Does that say what I think it does? Peyton Manning?"

  "Yep," Dennis said, grinning huge. "It's real, too. I emailed his agent and sure enough, that came in the mail. I'm still in shock about it."

  "That's so crazy," Mason said shaking his head. "I just... can't believe it. Thank you, Dennis." For just a moment, he looked so happy, like maybe he had forgotten how ill he was.

  I wish we had thought to film it.

  "It's so awesome," Mason finally said before moving on to my present.

  "I guess I'm last," I said, weakly smiling. "I hope you like it."

  "Of course I will," he said.

  I left the bag of cards by his bed and handed him my loosely wrapped gift. He slowly wriggled it out of the paper and curiously eyed what he found. It was a framed picture of us at the homecoming dance. A girl from yearbook class had discovered it on one of her old memory cards and sent it to me.

  "It's from our first date," I reminded him.

  He smiled and gazed up to me. "Yeah, you were beautiful. But you're even more beautiful now."

  I sat there and cried, feeling my guts turning into mush. It was so bittersweet I feared I might die. And I kind of wanted to die, actually. I just didn't feel strong enough anymore.

  ***

  Not long after Christmas, my dad, along with the Chamber of Commerce, arranged a spaghetti benefit dinner to raise money for Mason's family. Although Medicaid was covering most of the treatment, Donna was still dealing with the financial burden of having her whole life turned upside down.

  People came together to help in our little town, and they managed to raise seven-thousand dollars. It was awe-inspiring.

  And then, only a week after the dinner, we got the unsettling news that Mason only had a few months left. For real that time. Although he had been fighting so hard, the cancer was still winning. They could only subject him to so much chemo.

  Donna bought him a laptop with a portion of the money and someone from school loaded it up with all the video recordings of the football games he missed. He was overjoyed when we brought it to him. It made me upset that we hadn't thought of doing it sooner.

  Time definitely wasn't on our side, so any missed opportunity could quickly become a serious regret.

  Mason watched the games over and over again, grinning non-stop, his eyes glued to the tiny screen, living vicariously through the images. We eventually got him some movies so he could actually watch something other than the football games, although he would have been totally content with them alone.

  The more Mason deteriorated, the more my role as mediator started to drive me insane. Once I knew that he was actually going to die before graduation, it popped into my mind every time anyone asked. I often blatantly lied and said he was doing better.

  But the lie couldn't keep me from thinking the truth—and that was enough to bring me to tears. I usually had to turn away. I had to leave mid-sentence as they asked me for additional details.

  Most people understood, but still, I hated it.

  My stress continued to build, consuming my insides like colonies of flesh-eating bacteria. I forgot about college altogether. My grades began to plummet.

  I needed to be strong for Mason, but it just wasn't happening. And he knew it, too.

  Every time I showed up, he always had that look—no, I really want to see you, but I don't want you to have to see
me like this.

  And every time I saw it, it crushed me.

  ***

  My misery reached a climax around February.

  "I worked so hard for it," Mason said, complaining, staring up at the ceiling tiles. "But what the hell is the point?" Although he had been optimistic for the first few months, he was starting to have negative episodes.

  It was a cold, dreary Sunday afternoon, and I had skipped church to go see Mason because I had a ton of homework to catch up on the rest of the day.

  I hadn't left on good terms that morning—things had been extra tense around my house after I got the most recent news about Mason—but in that heightened sense of stress, I really didn't care about the consequences.

  "Mason, you enjoyed playing football," I pleaded. "You cared about it. That's enough, right?"

  He looked down from the ceiling and made eye contact. I saw sadness like I'd never seen before. "Naomi, what's the point of my life? I didn't get to accomplish anything. I was just here until the exact moment when I could actually go out into the world do something, and then, boom, I'm gone. Seriously, what was the point?"

  "You know that's wrong, Mason," I said, shaking my head, tears welling up in my eyes. "You're an incredible person. Your family loves you. Look at all those cards I brought you!" I pointed to the bag on the floor. "People care about you."

  Mason noticed my tears. "I'm sorry, Naomi. I don't want you to cry. I shouldn't be so negative, but sometimes I—"

  "It's just... life isn't so black and white, Mason," I said, cutting him off. "It's not like you don't matter just because of... this. You're still a human being and I love you."

  "And I love you, too," he said. The words brought me to a full sob.

  The nurses kicked me out shortly after that, so we didn't end on the happiest note. And sometimes, given the awful situation, that happened. I drove home in silence, momentarily calm, my mind numb.

  But after I parked the car in the driveway, his words of pessimism began echoing in my brain. I started crying and I couldn't stop for a long time. Sobbing wave after sobbing wave. The cold eventually got to me, so I did my best to put myself back together so I could actually go inside.