SOMETHING SO SERIES

by Madison, Natasha

  She turns her head toward me, her hair flying. “What are you talking about?” she asks, and I shake my head and look at her. In the dark, you can’t see her green eyes that well, but lucky for me, I’ve spent a good deal of time memorizing them.

  “I came to hang my jacket up,” I start telling her, “and I heard Vivienne asking how to spell my name.”

  “Um.” She hesitates, and I can see she’s nervous, so I lean over Jack’s car seat to touch her closed hand. But it was the wrong move, totally wrong, because her hand is soft, warm, and so small. The shock of her touch runs through me. My hand covers her fist.

  “Trust me, I’ve heard about the website. My wife, or my soon-to-be ex-wife, used to troll it regularly.”

  “What?” she whispers, and I realize that her fist is now open, facing up, and my hand is in hers.

  “Chantal had trust issues, I guess you could say,” I say with a laugh. “Which is amazing, considering she was the one who cheated on me.”

  “She cheated on you?” she asks me, and this time, her hand squeezes mine. Almost as if she is giving me strength.

  “Yeah, I walked in on her and my best friend,” I tell her. “The week before I moved here, I got home earlier than planned, not a day or so, but just four hours earlier.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” she tells me, and I smile at her.

  “I know that I don’t.” I look at her, thinking how I would like to touch her cheek while I say this. “But I want to.”

  “Okay,” she says softly.

  “I mean, I guess I should have known she was cheating; it’d been over a year since she’d touched me.”

  “What?” she says, shocked. “She didn’t touch you in over a year?”

  “Yup, the day before we found out that Jack had cancer was the last time we were together,” I tell her. “Every time I would try, she would tell me that her head wasn’t in it.” I wait for her to say something, anything, but she doesn’t. She just holds my hand while I pour out the big secret I’ve been keeping. “Then she started to change the way she would do things with Jack. She wouldn’t hold him or come to the doctor visits with us. And at that point, I didn’t want to touch her or be with her either, but”—I shrug—“he was going through so much. He didn’t need to go through his parents getting divorced on top of that.”

  “So who helped you?” she asks almost silently. “Who held you when you cried over your son?”

  “No one,” I answer honestly. “My parents came down as much as they could, but Chantal wasn’t the warmest or most welcoming person at that point.”

  “I would have,” she says so quietly, it’s like she didn’t say anything.

  “What?” I ask her again to make sure I heard what I did. When the car comes to a stop, I see we are in front of her loft.

  “I would have,” she says louder. “I would have held you while you cried over your son. I would have held your hand through every single test, through every single letdown or good day.” She blinks her eyes, and I feel a tear drop on our hands. “Good night, Zack,” she says, and the door opens for her with Marco standing there.

  I don’t have a chance to say anything. I don’t have a chance to process anything; all I have is the sight of her walking into her building and the door shutting behind her. Marco gets back into the car and heads toward our house. I look out the window, my hand still wet from her tear, her touch still on me.

  I watch the night zoom by until we get home, and then I undress Jack and tuck him in. I slide under the cold sheets, my eyes landing on the one star I can see through the open curtain. I watch the star blink, my mind racing all over the place. What a difference it would have made to have a woman hold my hand through this whole thing. A loving woman who would put the need of her child first. It’s the last thought I have before my eyes finally close for the night.

  Denise comes to me in my dreams—her smile, the light in her eyes, the loving way she looks at Jack—and the whole time, she holds my hand never once letting it go.

  Chapter Eleven

  Denise

  “Thank you so much for meeting with me.” I shake Melissa’s hand. It’s been three days since I’ve spoken with Zack. Three days since I held his hand while he bared his soul to me or at least part of his soul. Three days and I can still feel his hand on mine.

  That night when I got home, I cried for the man who has to be strong for his boy, a man who had no one to hold his own hand. I cried and did something I’ve never done in a long time; I prayed for him. I prayed for Jack. I’m a doctor, so it’s all clinical for me, and I’m not sure God has all the answers, but at that one moment, I wanted God to just make him better. For it to be a miracle. For the past three days, all I’ve done besides work nonstop was read up on the new meds coming to market. Now I’m sitting in front of Melissa, the woman who holds the key to the drug that can make Jack better. I have to be honest; I would sell my soul to the devil for him.

  “No problem,” she says, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of her. “I’ve read the chart, and I’ve shown it to the medical directors, and they agree he’s a great candidate.”

  My heart is beating, and I’m trying not to show my hand right away. “When can we start?” I ask her, failing miserably.

  “We can send you everything by Monday. It would take twenty-two days for the turnaround. Then it’s a waiting game.”

  “That works,” I tell her, my heart beating so hard I think it’s going to burst out of my chest. I’m so excited I feel like Tom Cruise did when he went on Oprah and jumped on her couch.

  “The cost is high,” she starts, and I just shake my head.

  “Cost isn’t an issue,” I tell her, knowing Zack would sell everything he owned for Jack.

  “Perfect. Now, let’s eat. I’m starved,” she says. My legs start bouncing, and I pick up my phone to send a text to Steve with one word.

  Monday

  I turn my phone down and actually have lunch, or at least I try to, but I speed through it, and Melissa just smiles at me.

  “How hard was it for you not to pick up the phone and call your patient?”

  I look at her. We have been colleagues since I first started at the hospital. She’s been with me through some dark days, and in the end, we held hands through some of our toughest breaks. Losing a patient is always hard, the worst, and I hold them with me forever, and she knows it.

  “My hands got twitchy, and my heart was beating out of my chest.”

  “You wear your heart on your sleeve.” She folds her hands over her chest.

  “Touché, Melissa. Touché,” I say, raising my hand for the waiter and motioning for the bill.

  “Go and make your phone calls. I got this,” she says. I put my napkin on the table, smiling at her while calling Zack. He answers after two rings.

  “Hello,” he says, huffing and puffing.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?” I ask him as I hear him gulp water.

  “No,” he says, “I just got done on the treadmill. What’s up?”

  “Are you in town?” I ask him.

  “I am. I’m headed home in about five minutes. Sarah isn’t feeling well, and I don’t want her around Jack, so I’m sending her home.”

  “Good idea. I have some news I think you’ll want to hear,” I tell him and try to remain calm.

  “Do you want me to come in and see you or,” he starts saying, and I hear rustling in the background, “you can come by the house. Jack has done nothing but ask about you for the past three days. If I gave the kid your number, he would have blown up your phone,” he tells me, laughing.

  “I’ve always wanted a stalker,” I tell him and then put my hand up to hail a nearby cab. “What’s your address?” I ask him, getting into the cab and giving the guy the address. “I’m on my way. I hope that’s okay. I’m excited,” I tell him.

  “I’m on my way now, but Sarah is home,” he tells me, and I hang up the phone with him and call Steve.

  �
�Miracle worker,” he says when he answers the phone.

  “I’m on my way over to Zack’s now,” I tell him, and he whistles.

  “A house call now?” he asks, laughing.

  “Sarah feels sick, and I can’t wait till tomorrow. I’m bursting at the seams to tell him the good news.”

  “Any chance we could get Evie into this one?” he asks quietly. “Her numbers aren’t looking so good today.”

  “Shit,” I say, closing my eyes. “I’ll have to check with Melissa and see if she can do it free or if the foundation can contribute.”

  “I don’t think she’ll make it without it,” he says quietly.

  “Okay, I’m just getting to Zack’s. I’ll call you when I leave,” I tell him as I pay the driver and jog up to the front door, ringing the doorbell. Sarah comes to the door with her jacket already on.

  “Thank god, you’re here,” she tells me, and I see that her eyes are red.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask her, walking in.

  “My throat is starting to get scratchy, my bones ache, and I think I feel a fever coming on,” she says, and I reach out, touching her forehead.

  “Shit,” I say. Going from her forehead to the side of her neck, I feel her glands. “Your glands are swollen.” I ask her to open her mouth, and it’s dark, but I see small white spots on the back of her throat. “It might be strep. Can you swing by the hospital? Steve is there, and he can check you out,” I tell her, and she nods. I take my phone out and text Steve. “Here is his number. Text him when you get to the hospital, and he will come down and see you.”

  “Thank you so, so much,” she says, grabbing her purse and walking out of the door, slamming it.

  “Daddy, are you home?” I hear Jack from somewhere in the house.

  “Nope, it isn’t Daddy!” I yell and hear little steps running through the house. I spot him running around the corner down the long hallway and open my arms just in time for him to run in them.

  “Dr. Denise,” he says, wrapping his arms around my neck and burying his face in my neck. “Sarah is sick,” he says, pulling away from my neck but leaving his hands buried in my hair. “She made me wear a mask, and she wore one too.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I tell him, walking into the living room and sitting down with him on my lap. “Your dad should be home any minute, and I have some awesome news for you guys.”

  “Is it going to make me all better?” he asks, his eyes big and blue.

  “Is it going to make my hair grow back?” he asks me, and I’m about to answer him when I hear Zack’s voice booming from the front door.

  “I’m home!” he shouts, and then I hear the keys hit the table by the door as he walks in. From my position on the couch, I look over, and I stop to stare. He’s wearing the team track suit, and he unzips the jacket and throws it off as he smiles at me. His t-shirt pulls across his shoulders, and he smiles at us and sits on the couch, facing us.

  “How is everything?” I turn to him and ask.

  “It was a gloomy day, but it’s suddenly looking up.” I look down at Jack and then look back over at his father.

  “I can’t wait anymore,” I finally say. “I’ve been sitting on this since last week, and I got confirmation at lunch.”

  Zack sits up now, propping his forearms on his thighs and letting his hands hang between his knees.

  “Is it bad?” he says, and his eyes fill with tears. The need to pick up Jack and go to Zack overtakes me, and I get up, going to sit next to him, my own tears now stinging at my eyes. Jack looks at his father and then at me.

  “It’s so not bad,” I say, smiling at him. “They just came out with a new drug; the FDA just approved it to go on the market, but the thing is each patient has to be approved and meet certain guidelines in order to use it.”

  “What does that mean?” Zack looks at me, and this time, I reach my hand out and take his, our fingers intertwining.

  “It means that Jack is going to be one of the first patients to receive this medication procedure.”

  “Oh my god,” he whispers.

  “It’s still not guaranteed, but,” I tell him, “it’s a shot.”

  “What do we need to do?” he asks me, and I tell him.

  “Monday morning, Jack will come in, and we will draw blood to send to their labs to process. This medication alters his white T cells to include a new gene that directs the T cells to target and kill the leukemia cells. So when the processed blood is returned, we’ll infuse it back into him. So it’s almost like we are tricking it.”

  “And then I won’t be sick anymore?” Jack asks, and I nod.

  “If all goes well,” I say, looking at him, and I can’t help the tears that fall, “you will be a healthy little boy. There are side effects, of course, but we can only hope for the best.”

  “We have to try it,” Zack says. “Whatever the effects are in the end, if he’s okay, that is what we want.”

  “There is also the cost that I have to bring up.”

  “Not an issue,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll eat ramen noodles for the rest of my life if I have to.”

  I laugh at him this time as his thumb rubs mine. “Thank you,” he says quietly, “for taking us on.”

  I turn from his stare to his son’s; whose eyes are just like his father. “For him, anything,” I say, kissing his neck.

  “Are we having dinner together?” Jack asks. “I want spaghetti.”

  “Will you stay?” I turn to Zack when he asks, meeting his eyes. “Will you stay and have dinner with us?”

  I shouldn’t stay. I should say no, put Jack down, and walk out the door. Leave and go home to my loft, alone. But I don’t say no. I can’t say no. Instead, I just nod my head. “There is no place I’d rather be,” I say, and it’s one hundred percent true.

  Zack gets up. “I need a shower. I ran out as soon as Sarah called.”

  “Go ahead,” I tell him, getting up with Jack. “Jack and I are going to go get a snack while I start dinner, if that is okay?” I ask him, and he just nods his head. I’m expecting him to walk away from me. What I’m not expecting is his hand to come up and cup my face.

  “You really are everything everyone says about you,” he says softly. I get lost in his voice.

  “I just do what I can,” I answer him honestly. He looks down and then up again, turning to walk out of the room and up the stairs. “So what do you say?” I ask Jack. “Want to help me cook dinner?”

  “Yes, please,” he says, smiling. We walk to the kitchen where I start to make dinner with him by my side.

  Chapter Twelve

  Zack

  “That was the best spaghetti I’ve had in a while,” I tell her after I finish my second plate.

  “Roasted garlic,” she says, taking a sip of her bubbly water. “I swear by it,” she says, smiling, and then Jack slurps his last noodle.

  “Is there more for tomorrow?” he asks, looking at Denise.

  She leans into him and whispers in his ear, but it’s loud enough for me to hear. “I put two plates aside for you.”

  He claps his hands and yells out, “Yippee!”

  “You need a bath,” I tell him, wiping the stain of sauce all around his mouth.

  “Why don’t you go and get him in the bath, and I’ll clean up before I go,” she tells me, but I’m not ready for her to leave just yet.

  “You cooked; you don’t get to clean up,” I tell her.

  “Dr. Denise can do the bath,” Jack says, getting the picture, “then she can tuck me in.”

  “Really?” She gives him a sideways glance, and I know in my heart she would do anything for him. She throws up her hand like she gives up. “Fine. Twist a girl’s arm,” she tells him and then gets up and grabs him.

  “Does he know where everything is?” she asks me. Standing in my kitchen, with regular blue jeans on, a white t-shirt with splashes of sauce, her hair tied on her head and her bare feet, it feels like she belongs here, like she is a part of us. Ev
en if we just met.

  She didn’t get pissed off when her shirt got dirty; she didn’t even bat an eye when Jack sneezed and sauce went flying everywhere. He stood there in shock and wasn’t sure what to say; he looked scared that she would freak out, but she did the complete opposite. In fact, she threw her head back and laughed. It means everything.

  “Yeah, he knows where everything is,” I tell her. “The tub is in my bathroom.”

  “Um, would you rather do it then?’ she asks me, and I just shake my head.

  “Let’s go, Dr. Denise.” Jack pulls her by the hands, and I hear him talking to her. “He has purple bubbles we aren’t allowed to touch because they help him exfoliate.”

  I hear her laughter all the way from the kitchen, so I yell back, “That stuff really works.” I shake my head, grabbing the plates and putting them in the dishwasher. My phone rings, and I see it’s the lawyer.

  “Hello?” I say, holding the phone against my ear with my shoulder since my hands are wet.

  “Mr. Morrow,” she starts off, “I’m calling with news.”

  “Give it to me,” I tell her, and I turn to wipe my hands and sit down while I wait for her to drop the ax.

  “Good news first or bad news first?” she asks me, and I’m almost tempted to laugh because where Chantal is concerned, nothing good can come from it.

  “Bad news and then good,” I tell her and brace myself.

  “Bad news is she is fighting the prenup; good news is she doesn’t have a leg to stand on,” she says. “Now I kind of sugarcoated things.” She clears her throat. “She wants joint custody.”

  My blood runs cold. “Fuck that.” I close my eyes.

  “I offered her a flat five million if she would sign over rights to him,” she says, and I wait for it. “Not surprisingly, she jumped on it.”

  “Fucking bitch,” I say out loud, and then I don’t have time to think anything else when she continues.

  “I didn’t get to the best part yet. If you do any interviews about or with Jack, she needs to be involved.”

  “What the fuck does she think? I’m going to do a spread in People?” I ask, closing my eyes.