1
Piper
Coffee jostles as I hum Justin Timberlake’s song, Can’t Stop The Feeling, skipping out of the dinging elevator. Brightly painted walls of the pediatric oncology floor don’t change the seriousness of why I’m here. The eagerness to see Maisy’s smiling face and her Troll movie inspired hair keeps me going. There’s nothing magical about my goddaughter having cancer, it’s down right awful, but we find ways to manage.
Sniffles from inside the doorway stop me in my tracks. My chest constricts with a sharp pang. I hold back a wave of emotion bracing myself for the unexpected inside Maisy’s hospital room. It isn’t unusual for Diana to be weepy. This has been a hard road getting Maisy into the right hospital for treatment. To say there have been ups and downs is an understatement.
“Diana?” Peering inside the room, Maisy is sound asleep. Her little body wrapped in blankets and her mouth a relaxed cupid’s bow buffered by rosy cheeks. A tuft of pink hair peeks out from her pillows. I smile and then frown thinking that the chemo will steal every strand of her baby fine locks before this is over. We dyed it pink in the sink a week ago as a kind nurse hunted the staff locker room for a blow dryer to help us finish her hair.
She looks like any other four year old ready to wake up and cause mischief despite the wires and tubes that hold her rebel heart hostage. My best friend holds back tears and my heart drops when the sniffles become a long muted sob she’s been holding back. Panicking I almost drop the large coffees juggled between my hands. Scalding the corner of soft skin between my thumb and palm I put them on the nightstand. Kneeling in front of her clutching her icy hands I speak.
“Di what’s going on?”
“Piper, thank goodness you’re here.” I scan her pinched features wondering if she’s left the hospital since Maisy started this new treatment. Construction at the gym I co-owned kept me from getting here sooner. Unkempt hair that looks like three days’ worth of dry shampoo sticks up. Her files from work spread out on a tray table. This room has become a makeshift office and home the past few months.
Swallowing the lump in my throat attempting to keep it together I ask, “What is it honey? Is it–”
She interrupts my thoughts as we look over the sweet angelic face that looks like a mini-Diana. She brushes back tears from her face speaking.
“No. Maisy is doing well. We’re so hopeful, and Dr. Milo is great. He’s talking about remission.”
“But?” She doesn’t fool me with her glances darting around the room.
“Dr. Milo is having issues. The nurses have been chatting.” I bet they’ve been chatting. Some of them are great, and I love those, but others are catty wenches looking for a hook up.
“What kind of issues?” When Diana confided in me at Christmas that Maisy was sick I dropped everything in Austin to come home. We took her to countless doctors and specialists before coming here. I gave up my job, moved into my parents’ house to save money, and opened a new gym location with my friend Jax that gave me flexible hours to help Diana and Maisy. If she asked me to move to Alaska tomorrow, I would.
Diana exhales with exhaustion. “Dr. Milo might have to leave.” Maisy’s doctor is a huge part of her path to remission utilizing a combination of treatments through his reseach.
“Leave the hospital?” I inquire but Diana shakes her head.
Except for the few run ins since Maisy’s diagnosis I don’t know the doctor that well. Diana tells me he has an amazing bedside manner with kids and best of all he seems to be the only one able to calm Diana down when she’s feeling anxious. I wish I could do more, but in a way I rely on him too when I can’t be here for her.
Things I do know about him run toward the more questionable such as he’s got a tight ass in his dress pants that I have shamelessly admired from afar. Those white coats he wears over his neatly buttoned dress shirts cover some pretty broad shoulders. The feisty side of me wonders how the coat would look rumpled up on my bedroom floor, except for the whole temporarily living at my parents’ house thing. I know those strong shoulders have a lot of parents in the children’s ward leaning on him which makes him a hundred times sexier to me. It would be a shame for him to have to leave the hospital.
A flash of heat courses through my body thinking about him that has no relation to the coffee I chugged on my way here. Last time I saw the doctor, he was on his phone. A phone he slipped in his pocket that did nothing to hide the ridge of his package any woman could appreciate. Thank god he also carried a clipboard to cover it walking down the hallway.
“Piper?” Diana is looking at me oddly and guilt replaces the daydream.
I cough. “Is he getting a new job?”
I hope it’s not a job.
Diana’s eyes flutter shut before opening with a pained expression. “It’s not a job.”
“He’s not the only one at the hospi
tal though. There are some pretty awesome doctors on the team right?” I try reassuring her but it makes things worse. Way to go Piper.
Her face scrunches into a tearful frown. “He has to leave in a few weeks.” We glance in Maisy’s direction.
“Why?” I urge her to drink the coffee. I can’t get an answer out of a distraught uncaffinated Diana. She takes a sip coughing into her hand and waving me away.
“I heard the other doctor in the department wants to do a different treatment, but this one works. It finally works and I don’t want to change anything right now.” Her hand clenches.
“What? Why would they change a treatment that works?” I’m confused. Maisy’s condition was initially hard to diagnose. Diana used her paralegal skills and hours of reseach doing a mother’s due diligence to find out what was making her baby sick. She could talk about it better than most doctors.
She mumbles things about work Visas and immigration, but all I can hear is that Maisy, sweet Maisy might lose her doctor and the best chance for a cure. I love this incredible little girl like my own and would do anything for her.
“We’ll do anything to make her better. I’ll do anything I can to help.” I solemly promise.
Diana stands pacing the room. “I’m going to have to marry him to keep him here.”
The pounding worry in my heart skips a beat. Did she? What did she? When I said do anything that wasn’t what I meant.
“Wait, whoa! Hold on a second here.” I put my hand up to stop her but she continues pacing the room in shaking steps between the steady beep of monitors. I hand her a new tissue from the already decimated tissue box to replace the rumpled one in her hands.
“Pip it’s the only way. I asked Natalie and it’s legal.” Natalie Croix is her boss and our mutual friend who works as a successful lawyer for a large firm in Baltimore. I can’t imagine Natalie was okay with this at all.
“I don’t care about legal, I care about you.” Imploring I watch her cry in earnest. I know how fearful Diana is of getting into a relationship. Her ex-husband is an abusive prick and had I known in the beginning I would have never left for Austin. I would have stayed and kicked Allen’s ass prior to her divorce last year. Heck, even a fake relationship is making her panic. It makes me panic equally as much.
“You can’t marry him Diana.” I help her sit back down and stick the coffee cup under her nose encouraging her to drink. I resume pacing of the room back and forth making tread marks with my sneakers on the tile.
“Yes.” She shakes her head.
“No,” I shake back and she bites her fist, eyes squeezed shut.
She whimpers. “I have to.”
“There’s gotta be another way.” But I can’t think of one.
My stomach knots impossibly tight thinking of the little girl I love more than anything laying helpless in the bed. I hope she’s resting and not listening to her mother and TeeTee Piper discussing grownup things. This kid slept through a tropical storm last summer on our impromptu girls’ vacation to North Carolina. Still we shouldn’t be in here talking about this.
“Come on.” I take her hand and guide her just outside the door.
“I can do it, Piper.” She says between trembles. I give her a side eye that asks her how the last date worked out. Not so well considering she had a major freak out when the police detective moved in for a kiss goodnight and she slugged him in the eye. He took it in stride, but he didn’t call her back for a second date. Her unused online dating profile has since been reneamed Slugger and probably explains why no one messages her.
I chide her. “Diana.”
“I can do anything for my daughter.” I know she can. I also know she’s stubborn enough to work through her fear despite how it might affect her.
My hands rest on her shoulders rubbing down her arms.