"Not even," he grumbles. "It kills me that you're going to be sick and I'm stuck out here. I should be there with you."
"No, you should be right where you are, doing your job," I tell him adamantly. "I'll be fine. Stevie's going to stay with me, and Dr. Yoffman even said that each round will get easier. I might not even get sick."
I can hear him blow out a gust of frustrated air, and he says something to me, but my attention is immediately diverted to entrance of the treatment room.
"What the hell?" I say into the phone, my jaw dropping low.
"What?" Garrett demands. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, you are not going to believe this. Hold on," I tell him as I put him on speakerphone and immediately pull up my camera app. Holding it out in front of me, I take a picture of the freak show that is walking my way and text it to Garrett. "I just texted you a picture. And now, all of a sudden, I am really wishing you were here instead of Stevie."
I wait a moment, then I hear Garrett laughing on the other end as he pulls up my texted photo. "Holy shit. Why in the hell is he carrying that?"
"I have no clue, but let me find out. Talk to you tonight after the game?"
"Sure thing, baby. Rest up and be well. Miss you."
"Miss you too," I say distractedly, then I disconnect.
And I stare up at Stevie standing there with a huge smile on his face and holding a six-foot inflatable palm tree. He's slightly out of breath and his face is red, but what stands out the most is that he's changed into a white tank top, a red sarong with palm trees patterned over it, and flip-flops. He has several leis around his neck made from what looks to be plumeria.
"What are you doing?" I ask, incredulous.
"Just hold tight," he says vaguely as he puts the palm tree right beside my IV stand. "I'm not done yet."
Glancing around the room, I see everyone is looking our way...some with curiosity, others with full-blown smiles. A little girl who sits two chairs over with a bright pink scarf covering her bald head watches with large eyes and a tiny tilt to her lips. There are a total of five other people in treatment with me today, and it's quite boring just sitting here watching liquid fall droplet by droplet into your body. I'm sure this is the most interesting thing they've ever seen while getting their chemo.
Stevie walks back out, and within just moments comes back in pulling a large cooler with wheels and a huge beach bag over his shoulder. I watch in stunned awe as he lugs everything right up to my recliner.
"You're going to get us thrown out of here," I hiss at him, my eyes darting over to the nurse's station, which is empty right now. There's not much that goes on in the treatment room, and usually a nurse will come by every hour and check on everyone's progress.
Stevie doesn't say a word, but plops the huge beach bag on the floor and starts rummaging through it. Out comes a beach towel that he unfolds and lays on the floor a few feet from my chair. Next...an iPod docking station, which he places under the palm tree. He never looks at me, but takes his iPod and connects it. With a few swipes of his finger over the screen, the sounds of ocean waves and seagulls crying out fill the air around me. His gaze cuts to me and he gives me a smirk before reaching back in his bag, pulling out another docking station that he sits on the other side of my chair. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and connects it. Within moments, the soft strains of Hawaiian music can be heard.
"You are unbelievable," I say in awe.
"I'm not through yet," he says, and I suppress a groan. Diving back into his beach bag, he pulls out two plastic cups shaped like halved coconut shells. Stevie opens the cooler, dips in for some ice, and then cracks open a can of ginger ale. He pours some for me and then places a straw and a freakin' little paper umbrella on the side.
"Your cocktail, madame," he says with flourish as he presents my cup to me. As soon as I take it, he whips one of the leis off and places it over my head.
"Un-freakin'-believable," I say as my fingers absently stroke the soft flower petals.
Stevie pours himself a drink and then sits down on the beach towel in front of my chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and making sure his sarong stays demurely tucked in. "Today's chemo theme is Tropical Paradise. Do you like?"
"I love," I whisper to him. "But I'm not sure the nurses are going to like this."
Stevie shrugs. "I'll take it out if they want me to, but it's not hurting anything. Besides, this place can be a drag. I wanted to liven it up for you a bit."
Taking another sip of ginger ale, I just smile down at my best friend and marvel at his thoughtfulness. Stevie gives me a wink and then looks to his right. The little girl is still staring at us.
"You want to get in on some of this beach action?" he asks her, and she lowers her eyes shyly. Her mom, who is sitting with her, smiles at Stevie and then leans in toward her daughter to whisper in her ear.
Stevie pops up from the floor, brushing nonexistent wrinkles out of his sarong, and walks up to the girl and her mother. "Come on. Come hang out on my beach with me and my friend Olivia. I've got coconut cups for you and your mom. We'll drink ginger ale and I might even perform a special Hawaiian dance for you."
The little girl looks up at Stevie with big, unblinking eyes but doesn't say a word. He turns to her mother and asks, "You two want to come hang with us?"
"Sure," the mom says, and she sticks her hand out to Stevie. "I'm Amelia, and this is my daughter, Ruby."
"I'm delighted and honored," Stevie says as he shakes Amelia's hand and then holds his hand out to Ruby. She looks to be about seven or eight years old, and although she hesitates for a moment, she finally sticks her hand out.
He picks it up and gives it a gentle shake. "You may possibly be the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen in my life," he tells her, and she lowers her eyes again.
I watch in quiet disbelief but with absolute pride in my friend as Stevie squats down to the wheels at the bottom of Ruby's recliner and unlocks the brakes. While he rolls her chair over closer to me, just on the other side of the palm tree, her mom pushes the IV stand behind. When he gets her situated, he locks the brakes and then brings her mom's chair over.
When everyone is settled, Stevie reaches back into his goodie bag and pulls out some more coconut cups, filling them with ice and ginger ale for Amelia and Ruby. He then proceeds to hand out coconut cups of ginger ale to the rest of the patients before returning to his beach towel and plopping down.
Stevie and Amelia keep up a running chatter while Ruby and I relax and absorb our drugs. She's very quiet, but every time she looks at Stevie her eyes light up and her lips curve into a shy smile. One of the nurses makes her rounds, taking in our beach setup with a smirk, but she doesn't say a word.
After about an hour, I'm drowsy, so I shut my eyes and let the ocean waves and strumming ukulele lull me to sleep, and even though I sit here with a needle in my vein dripping poison into my body so that it can kill another poison in my body, I can't help but have a satisfied smile on my face.
--
"Damn, he looks hot out on the ice," Stevie says dreamily.
"That he does," I say with a sigh as we watch the Cold Fury--and in particular, Garrett--take on the L.A. Dragons. We're lying in my bed, both of us in our pajamas with the covers pulled up. It's not the first time Stevie has had a sleepover at my place. This is actually the third, the other two times occurring after Stevie suffered a broken heart and needed a pajama party at his bestie's.
"You all good?" he asks.
"Feeling okay," I tell him without taking my eyes off the hockey game. While I had some nausea throughout the afternoon, I never did throw up, and I count that as a win in my book. I do
feel way more tired than I did after the last treatment, but I'm sure a good night's sleep will help.
Except I'm not going to sleep until after the game is over. Any chance I can get to watch Garrett I'm going to take, because I miss him so much. He had texted me about an hour before the game started. I was already tucked into bed while Stevie sat out in the kitchen to eat his dinner. While I hadn't thrown up, the smell of food was increasing my nausea.
How is my girl feeling? He had texted.
Little nausea, no vomit. All good, I wrote back.
Thinking of you. Missing you. Will call you after the game.
I immediately texted back, Miss you too. Good luck tonight.
He didn't text back, but that didn't bother me. I know he was getting into game mode and had bigger things to focus on than me. When Stevie was done eating, he put on his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and then crawled into my bed so we could watch the game.
At the end of the second period, I throw the covers off and swing my legs out of the bed.
"Where are you going?" Stevie asks as he sits up. "I can get whatever you need."
"I need to pee. Think you can handle that for me?" I say with a laugh as I head toward the bathroom.
He calls out, "Smart ass," and I snicker to myself, but, damn, I love him. I'm so blessed to have the friends that I do.
Once I finish in the bathroom, I take some Tylenol because I started getting a headache about an hour ago that I'd hoped would go away by now. Looking in the mirror while I wash my hands, I note that my skin is a little paler than normal, but I just assume that's from the chemo. During my last treatment, I was too sick to even look in the mirror at myself.
By the time I get back to my bed, I'm a little out of breath, and Stevie notices. "Jesus...you're huffing like you just ran a marathon."
I suck in a lungful of oxygen before crawling back into bed and let it out slowly. "I'm just a little tired...that's all."
"How about we turn off the game and go to sleep? You got another treatment tomorrow and you need your rest."
"No way. I'm not missing one second of this. Besides...Garrett's going to call me after the game."
"Fine," Stevie says, holding his hands up, and then plops back down onto his pillows. "We'll finish watching the game, you can talk to your honey, then it's lights out. No arguments."