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Carter turns the phone around and starts to press some buttons, and suddenly, I’m regretting giving him my password.
“You shouldn’t be reading my texts,” I shout, but there’s no real heat in my voice. I’m just acting like this because I know what’s coming next.
And based on the desperation level in this room, it’s not going to be pretty.
“‘Valentina, please call me. They still have a spot reserved for you for the surgery. Please reconsider,’” Carter reads. “Two days ago. Valentina, miracles happen every day. Please give yourself a chance. Three days ago…” he continues to read text message after text message, almost all of which I’ve ignored. If he checked my call log and email, he would see a million more attempts there as well.
“What is he talking about, Valentina?” Quaid asks desperately.
I sigh, closing my eyes, moving out of Quaid’s embrace, and stepping out of the bathtub. It’s a testament to how much things have changed since my revelation that none of their gazes dip to my naked, soapy body.
I walk past Carter, but he grabs my arm, stopping me from taking another step.
“What does this mean?” he growls.
It’s a growl of someone who is grasping at air to fix something that can’t be changed.
“I’m going to get dressed and then we can talk about this,” I say firmly, trying to pull away from him. He grips me for a second longer, his hands trembling as they hold onto me like I’m his very lifeline.
“Carter,” Logan barks. Carter holds my gaze, and then he finally lets go, a promise in his eyes that says he won’t be letting that go.
Quaid gets out of the tub, unabashed about his nudity in front of the other two as he grabs a towel and wraps it around his taut waist. He strides past me without looking at me as he disappears in his room.
I sigh again… It seems to be my go-to the last few days, and I go to my room and get changed into a pair of comfy sweats.
I walk to the couch and sit down. This time, none of them sit down with me. They’re all standing around the room, their arms crossed in identical poses of expectancy.
“Dr. Channing is the doctor who’s handled my treatment. He was my doctor as a girl as well. He was just starting then, he’s really come a long way since,” I say with a false grin.
No one smiles back at me.
“What does he fucking mean in his texts? What is he telling you to try? What is there still time left for you to do?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve decided I’m not doing it,” I try to argue. Obviously, that argument doesn’t work.
I stand up in frustration, annoyed that I’m having to explain this decision that was so fucking hard to come to in the first place. “I’ve done all the treatments they have available in the States. None of it has worked.”
“But?” Logan presses.
“There’s an exploratory surgery they’ve started trials on in Switzerland. Dr. Channing attended a conference a few months ago and talked to the doctors who were running the surgery. He came back after that, wanting me to try it. It’s some kind of new procedure for brain tumors that they’ve begun to use on terminal cases.”
“That’s great,” Quaid says excitedly, a smile returning to his face for the first time since the news. “Wait. Why aren’t we in Switzerland?” he asks, realization coming to his gaze.
Logan steps forward accusingly. “You promised me that this trip wasn’t keeping you from anything.”
I hold up my hands pleadingly. “It isn’t. I’m not doing the surgery,” I said quietly.
There’s silence, and then all three of them start trying to talk at once.
“Stop,” I yell out. “I’m not doing the surgery. There’s only a twenty percent success rate, and those odds don’t exactly have me jumping up and down for joy. If I don’t die on the table, then there is a good chance that I’ll end up a vegetable.” I start crying in frustration. “I would be here, but I wouldn’t be here. I would lay on that table until my body finally withered away, and then I’d die. What Dr. Channing considers a fighting chance, I see as stealing the rest of the good days I might still have left. I’m not taking that chance. I refuse to take that chance. I want to die with dignity. It’s my choice,” I plead with them.
All three of them look defeated. No, they are defeated.
Or at least, I hope they are and they’ll let this go.
I’m not changing my mind.
“I’m going for a fucking walk,” Quaid spits out as he strides towards the door.
