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“Iris?”
“Yes, you have my consent.”
She summons other people to the room, and they get busy prepping me for the procedure.
“We’ll numb you up, so it shouldn’t be painful, but you’re apt to experience a pinch or two, all right?”
“Um, okay.” I’m shaking so hard I wonder how they’ll be able to do anything to me without tying me down.
Everyone is very efficient, like this is no big deal to them when it’s the biggest of big deals to me. My whole life is riding on the results of these tests, and I can barely hold it together as they do the needle biopsies. The “pinch” is slightly more than that, but it’s not unbearable.
“We’re all done,” the woman in charge says after they’ve done both sides. “We’ve included markers to identify the sites so we’re able to get right back to them if need be.”
“When will I know?”
“A few days.”
“Ugh.” How will I survive waiting to hear that kind of news? How will I function? I can’t tell my parents because I don’t want them to be as upset as I am. As I put my bra and top back on, I try to summon some inner calm, but there’s none to be found, and there won’t be until I get those results.
I’m completely numb with fear, anxiety and despair, and I feel desperately alone without Gage to tell me everything is going to be okay.
GAGE
After the accident,I couldn’t stop crying. Tears for days and days, until my eyes ached as much as my heart did. There were times during that early darkness when I wondered if I was destined to cry for the rest of my life. Eventually, the tears dried up as I was forced to confront the fact that I had a lot of living left to do without my girls.
Since I left Iris’s last night, the tears have come back with the same intensity I experienced right after the accident. I miss Iris so much, I ache from wanting her, which is ridiculous because I chose to leave. And I feel like the biggest asshole for leaving when she’s stressed out and panicked over what that lump might turn out to be.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Right when I was putting my life back together and moving in such a positive direction with Iris and her kids, I lose my shit over a lump? I hate that I left. I hate that the stupid lump triggered such an enormous backslide. I hate that I’m so terrified of losing her that I ran from her. I hate everything about grief and the way it can bitch-slap you in the face right when you’re making a comeback from the lowest point in your life.
I hate everything about this situation, but more than anything, I hate myself for leaving when she needed me most.
My phone rings with a call from Christy. I stare at the screen, riddled with uncertainty, until I find the wherewithal to take the call.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
I can tell with those two words that she’s spoken to Iris and knows what a fucking coward I am.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“What can I do?”
“Tell me that Iris is fine and that she’ll forgive me for bailing when she needed me most?”
“I can’t do either of those things. Not yet anyway.”
“Have you heard anything from her today?”
“No, but she was scheduled to see her doctor this morning. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”
“I won’t hear from her. She’s probably done with me.”
“No, she isn’t.”
“I wouldn’t blame her if she was. All I could think about on that flight home was how I’d ever survive losing her, too.”
