Chapter 91

Two weeks.

Fourteen days.

Three Hundred Thirty Six hours.

Twenty Thousand One Hundred Sixty minutes. All gone in the seeming blink of an eye.

Cilla smiled thinking back on the time they had spent at the beach. Jon had been good to his word and they had done his best to back off. She knew he had kept his eye on her, but that was okay. He hadn’t fussed over her, well no too much anyway, and they truly had enjoyed themselves.

They played with the kids, went to the beach, sat on the sun-warmed sand licking dripping ice cream cones, took long walks. Their nights, while not as amorous as they had once been, were still quietly romantic. They spent many evenings on the chaise watching the sunset, waiting for the moon and stars to brighten the night sky. It had become their favorite spot.

Now, here it was, Sunday morning and she was waiting for the nurse to poke her with another needle so a "cocktail" of poison could be dripped into her body, hopefully to kill the cancer that had decided her body was a nice place to live. She'd rather have a margarita thank you.

The nurse rolled her chair over to Cilla. “Ready?”

The door opened just then and Jon walked in, cell phone to his ear. “I gotta go. Just take care of it.” He sat down next to Cilla. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know you’ve got a lot of things coming up that you need to deal with.” He was going to be doing some stumping starting in a few weeks for the Democratic Presidential Candidate, Barack Obama, and he was going to host a fundraising dinner party in October. Giving him a quiet smile, she took his hand, “you got here just in time.”

He sat down and watched as the nurse swabbed Cilla’s arm and wrapped it with the rubber strap, tapping it trying to bring up a vein. When she picked up the needle he turned his eyes back on Cilla. After all the times on the New Jersey Tour that he had been shot up with steroids you’d think he’d be used to it. He wasn’t. Hell, Dorothea had been the one to take the kids for all their shots when they were little. He couldn’t stand the sight of needles.

Watching Cilla he saw her wince when she got stuck; her grip tightened on his and he thought he might lose his breakfast. Before he could say anything the nurse spoke. “Okay, that wasn’t so bad now was it?”

Cilla rolled her eyes at Jon. “Nope” she told the nurse. “Not at all.” She turned back to him, he looked a little pale. “Are you all right?”

He just nodded his head and swallowed heavily. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself by fleeing the room over a stupid little needle. If she could handle the needle stick and sitting here for six hours having this crap drip into her, he could certainly handle sitting her next to her holding her hand. “I’m fine.”

“Let’s try to keep that arm as still as possible” the nurse told her a she started the drip. She handed Cilla what looked like a small plastic dishpan. “If you start to feel sick, use this.”

Cilla set the ugly yellow pan on the floor next to the chair. She was not going to be sick. She hated being sick and refused to let this get the better of her.

The morning dragged on, two and half more hours to go. Cilla sighed, closed her book and pulled the light blanket over her. She had been going back and forth between warm and cold, so for now it was blanket on.

Easing the chair back she popped in her headphones and curled on her side as best she could. She had sent Jon to go get some coffee, have a cigarette, something. He had been pacing the room for the last half hour like a caged animal. She was glad he had come with her that morning, but she could really do this by herself.

Jon stood outside the room, damning himself a coward for not wanting to go back in there. He had jumped at the opportunity to get out of there for a bit and now, he could barely face walking back in there and watching her sit there knowing that what was dripping into her could not only save her but it could kill her as well. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. It shouldn’t be her in there. It shouldn’t be anyone.

He was just reaching for the door knob when his phone vibrated in his hand. He had a text message.

[11:15] How’s it going?

It was Richie.

[11:16] It’s going. Waiting fuckin’ sucks.

Richie nodded at the other end. He knew all about the horrors of waiting.

[11:17] I know man. Hang in there. Give her my best. Call me later.

He stepped back into the room, crossing to her quietly. She had dozed off and he didn’t want to wake her. Taking up his seat once again he took her hand in his. With his right hand he reached out and stroked her cheek, brushing back a stray lock of hair. With it or without it she would always be beautiful to him. He would have to remember to tell her that. Everyday.

Bringing her hand to his lips he kissed her fingers. He didn’t want to think about losing her, but it was times like these, quiet times, that the ‘what if’s’ snuck up on him. He tried to push them away. He stroked his fingers across her cheek. He didn’t want to think about his life without her in it.

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his and she pulled the buds from her ears. His were so sad and serious. She swallowed back the metallic taste that had started to creep up to the back of her throat. “You look so sad Jonny. What’s wrong?”

Closing his eyes he willed them to clear. Opening them again he found her watching him intently. "I'm fine baby. Just worried about you." He could see her trying valiently not to get sick. "Need the bucket?"

She swallowed again. Desperately trying to keep her breakfast in her stomach. "No."

The nurse came in just then. "How are we doing?" she asked as she checked on the IV bag. It was empty and she unhooked the tube from the needle in Cilla's arm. "You're all done for today Ms. Preston. Let me just take care of this needle and you can be on your way."

Cilla nodded and watched as the nurse found the gauze and tape all the while breathing deeply through her nose and out her mouth.

Waiting for the nurse to leave Cilla gathered her things and stood. "Ready?"

Jon took her hand and picked up the bucket, "need this yet?"

She started to say "no" then stopped, dropped her bag and grabbed it from him, emptying the contents of her stomach into it before her bag hit the floor.