His Baby

“If I’m honest, Mel, I’ve never seen you so happy before. You’re focused at work, but the minute you get off, it’s all about Mace. You don’t even have to say anything. It’s the way you smile with contentment, and how little things that used to aggravate you don’t seem to matter anymore. Remember how Brenda got on your nerves whenever she hummed at the front desk? Last time, I heard you humming along with her. It’s crazy, Mel, you guys were practically doing a duet. It’s like you’re a changed person.”

My cheeks flush because Leonie’s words are true. With Mace by my side, I feel like a new woman. No more the slog of endless days at the office. No more the seven cups of coffee to get me through the day. Instead, I’m light on my feet and filled with energy and laughter, anticipating my return to my lover’s embrace. Except for the niggling doubts sometimes.

But my friend doesn’t know this and Leonie nods again, taking a sip of coffee.

“You’re in love,” she states with finality. “Absolutely. The two of you guys are ga-ga over one another. But Mel,” she says slowly before raising her eyes to mind. “How are you dealing with his illness?”

I take a deep breath because this is always a sensitive topic.

“Mace is on a homeopathic regimen,” I begin.

Leonie snorts.

“Please girl. I’m a doctor too. We run the clinic together, Melly, and I’ve seen his charts. That homeopathic stuff has never worked for anyone, and isn’t going to work for him either. You can’t take a dose of St. John’s Wort and chamomile, and expect the cancer to cure itself.”

Her proclamation is hard to hear, and my heart twinges with pain. Because what Leonie’s saying is true. We’re both MDs, and medical school taught us that there’s only one way to go about this, and that’s to attack. Attack, attack, and then attack some more. Treat aggressive growth with aggressive remedies, and that means chemo and radiation until the patient’s weak and vomiting, a mere shadow of who they once were.

“I know,” I say softly. “But Mace is set in his ways. He won’t listen.”

Leonie’s silent for a moment.

“Have you talked to him as his doctor? Not at his girlfriend but as his physician?”

My heart jumps at the word “girlfriend,” but I nod.

“I have,” are my slow words. “Multiple times. But he’s a hard-headed male and what can I do? I can’t tie him up and stick a needle in his arm. I can’t drag him to the hospital and sic the radiation machine on him. He’s a full-growl adult male who makes his own decisions, and I have to respect that.”

But Leonie has my back, and that’s one of the reasons why I love her.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” she says seriously, looking my way. “I’m your medical partner, so it makes sense. He knows I can reference his charts. Plus, a second opinion is always welcome, right?”

I shake my head.

“It won’t make a difference,” are my slow words. “He is who he is, and I have to respect that.”

My heart breaks a little more, the strain making my stomach churn even as tears spring to my eyes.

“Don’t!” cries my friend, immediately slinging an arm over my shoulders. “You’re gonna be okay.”

I raise my head, eyes still weepy.

“Have you seen that episode of Grey’s Anatomy where Katherine Heigl falls in love with her doomed patient? The one who’s really cute? I think his name was Dennis?”

Leonie laughs gently.

“Of course I have. I’ve seen every episode of that series, and it’s Denny, not Dennis.”

I stifle a noise that sounds like a half-laugh, half-sob.

“Well I feel like her,” is my torn reply. “I feel like I’m in love with a man who’s got a sword over his head, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’d do anything,” is my near-whisper. “But the only thing I can give him is love.”

And to my surprise, Leonie takes my hand then.

“Then that’s what you’ll do,” she says, her voice firm, fingers gripping mine tight. “We’ve been taught that there’s only one way to approach this as doctors, but that’s not right. Or more accurately, you’re not just his doctor. You’re also his girlfriend, his woman, his everything. And so you’ve got to do what’s best for him and you. For both of you,” she says, her voice fierce now. “Take care of yourself, Melissa, because you know how this is going to end.”

And I nod even as tears trickle down my cheeks unheeded now. They leave hot trails that drip off my chin, turning me into a sodden mess. But Leonie’s right. Because I have to do right by the man I love, but also, by myself. Because what happens when Mace is gone? What happens when I no longer have that broad chest to curl up against, his nimble fingers to make me moan? It was so easy to think about in the abstract, but as our time together draws to a close, my heart contracts with pain.