Disclaimer: Don't own it. Nada, zilch, zero.
A/N: Okay, for anyone interested I finished outlining the entire story, and it looks like it will be 20 chapters exactly, not including the prologue or epilogue. So, 22 I guess. Enjoy! And a very huge thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Chapter 3- 'Hope'
Gabriella's POV
It takes me a few minutes to realize that I've been staring at the same spot on the wall, completely zoned out, for who knows how long. I've been doing that a lot these past few days. I run my hands through my daughter's hair, and rub her back soothingly as she sleeps. Lately she has been taking a habit to falling asleep in either my or Troy's arms.
I don't know how long I've been watching Leila sleep before I hear Ethan shout from upstairs, sprinting his way down the staircase, taking them two at a time "She's here! She's here!" I lift Leila off of me and rest her on the couch, draping a blanket over her.
As I reach my son in the foyer, I reprimand him for his screaming. "Ethan! Don't shout, okay? Leila needs her rest, we've told you that."
"I'm sorry, Mommy," he says looking down. And then I realize I haven't spent any time at all with just him since we got Leila's diagnosis. And that makes me feel like the world's official worst mother- one sick daughter and a neglected son. "It's okay, just try to remember," I whisper, smiling warmly at him, and he nods. "I love you, Eth, don't you ever forget,"
He giggles at this "I love you too Mommy," he says, anxiously peering out the door.
"Go on, you can meet her outside I say," And smile as he sprints out the door, shouting "Aunt Shar!", and as she runs over to him and spins him around.
His Aunt Shar, Sharpay Evans, is my best friend. We've been friends since the end of senior year in high school. She's also the only person other than Troy that could possibly make me feel slightly better at a time like this. I haven't seen her in almost a year, this is because we live in California, while Sharpay lives in New York. As soon as she releases Ethan, she turns to look at me, and I run over to her, flinging myself into her arms. And I begin to sob.
"Shhhh," she soothes, sounding as if she's about to cry herself. After a few minutes, I look up, wipe my eyes, and apologize. "I'm sorry," I say, "It's just…these last few days…I don't know," I sigh, wiping the tears that just won't stop.
"Gabriella, there's nothing to apologize for. It's amazing you've stayed in one piece this long," She soothes, as if I'm a toddler that fell and scraped their knee. "Where is she?" She asks, quieter.
"Sleeping," I say, "On the couch."
"Alright, well, I'll just have to say hi to her later. Let's go in," she says, and we enter the house, and it seems like a billion times before that I've welcomed her in, on birthdays, or holidays, or just a random visit. Only this time, it's different. She's not reminding me all that I could have done had I not given up my career as a lawyer once Ethan was born, but she's helping me cope with the fact my daughter is dying.
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A few hours later, we're all in the play room, Leila glued to her aunt's lap, as though she's known her forever, although I doubt she can remember the last time Sharpay was here because she was too young. Ethan is playing with blocks at my feet.
"So, when's the next appointment?" She asks me, after making sure Ethan was distracted.
"Tomorrow, at ten," I answer automatically. These last few days have revolved around appointments and test results.
She nods, and we watch in silence as Leila crawls off of Sharpay and joins her brother on the floor.
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"So, are you saying" I ask the doctor, once he's explained to me our possible options over what to do next "that, if we find a donor, Leila might get better?"
"She may, whether it be a permanent 'better', or just a momentary pause we aren't sure," he says. "Family is always best to be tested first for a genetic match," He says, and I nod.
"Troy and I of course will be tested," I insist, and he shakes his head.
"With parents the odds of all six proteins matching up to a child, is practically unheard of."
"It's worth a shot," I say.
"I suppose," he agrees. "Aunts, uncles?"
"Troy and I are both only children," I say softly, feeling as though our odds just decreased exponentially.
"And…Ethan?" He asks.
"He's just four," I say, not wanting him to go through anything.
"Siblings have the best chance of being perfect genetic matches, Mrs. Bolton," he informs me. "Ethan may be our only hope." And I find myself nodding.
"Ethan too," I say.
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A few days later Troy and I pack the kids into the car, Sharpay having gone home just that morning, and head to the hospital for the results.
Dr. Reese approaches us after we've been waiting for only a few minutes in the exam room.
"As expected, you and Troy weren't a match. Ethan matched Leila on four of the proteins. And, usually, that would be enough, but with her stage of acute promyelocytic leukemia, the match needs to be perfect. " He informs us, and I feel my heart crumble.
"Where does that leave us?" Troy asks, speaking what I cannot find the words for.
"We can talk in my office," he says, clearly not wanting the children to hear any of it. Troy stays in the room with them and I head to his office. He closes the door behind us.
"Mrs. Bolton," he starts, "There's always the chance an unrelated donor will be found on the national marrow registry," he tells me.
"Isn't there more of a risk in that?" I ask, racking my mind for everything he's told us.
"Yes, but sometimes it's all we have," He said, smiling sadly at me.
"And in the mean time?" I ask him
"Leila will start chemotherapy for around ten days, to hopefully kill some diseased cells and put her in remission. Common side-effects are vomiting and nausea, which we'll try to treat with antiemetics," He says, and I close my eyes, not sure how this could ever have happened to my little girl.
"Will she lose her hair?" I ask.
"Most likely, yes," he answers, and I feel a tear stream down my face. She has gotten a haircut three times in her life, and now who knows if she ever will again. Her sandy blonde hair that just became long enough to braid. Gone.
The doctor continues naming other side-effects, and consolidation chemotherapy, maintence therapy, and several other action plans. I find myself nodding, although all I want to do is wake up from this nightmare.
"And," he starts, "there's always another sibling." And I'm about to tell him that we only had these two, that Ethan had been our last hope. And that's when I realize he means one that hasn't yet been born.
Troy and I had always said our family was complete because we each had our mini-me. Mine was Ethan, both of us with the same curly dark hair and chocolate eyes, he and Leila both with wavy sandy blonde hair and brilliant sapphire blue eyes.
And now this. A new family. Now the idea of another child. One that was never intended, but one that could save the one I love so dearly.
I am lost for words, but it doesn't matter, because when I turn around, he simply says we ought to get back to Troy.
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Exactly twenty one days later, a full eight days after Leila's chemotherapy session ended, we head home from the hospital.
The experience was something I hope I never experience again, but know I will because in just a few weeks, another session is scheduled. I pull Leila out of her car seat, and kiss her head. Her hair fell out three days ago, and, surprisingly, she took it better than Troy and I did.
Ethan hops out of the car and runs to the front door, where Sharpay greets us. She came back a few days into Leila's chemo to help us take care of Ethan, for which I am extremely grateful. Troy walks over to me, and grabs the bag I have over my shoulder and carries it into the house before returning again to grab the rest of our bags.
A few hours later, Leila asks for a chocolate bar, which Troy quickly runs into the kitchen and pulls out of the fridge, walks back in, and hands it to her.
"Can I have one too?" Ethan asks, and I shake my head.
"You didn't finish dinner," Troy responds for me.
"I hate more than her!" Ethan shrieks, "That's not fair!"
"You're right that's not fair!" Troy screams. "It's not fair she's sick and you're healthy, either, is it? She never complained about that. You want fair, next time she has needle after needle stuck into her, you can too, next time—"
"Troy!" I cut him off. "Stop it," I whisper, hugging Ethan who has his head in the crook of my neck.
And, suddenly ,Troy realizes he lost it and looks at Ethan apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Eth, I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean that," he says quietly.
"It's okay…" Ethan whispers, not turning around.
"Mommy?" Ethan whispers to me.
"Yeah, Eth?" I ask, rubbing his back.
"Is Leila going to die?" I close my eyes at this. Troy and I haven't told Ethan much more than the fact that Leila is sick, and the doctors at the hospital are trying to make them better.
So, I think to myself how do I answer a question like this?
I wait a while before answering "We'll all be okay."
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That night, I sit on the floor by Leila's bed and watch her sleep.
Sometimes, while she sleeps, I almost forget she's sick for a moment.
I used to imagine how she would look on her wedding day, in a gorgeous white dress. When she was diagnosed, I started, instead, to picture her on her first day of kindergarten. When she started chemo, I stopped picturing anything. This way, everyday, she surpasses any goal I could have.
It's hard for me to believe that I have only known Leila for two years. In those two years, though, I have learned everything there is to know about her. I have made enough memories to last forever. And I have loved her enough to last a lifetime.
I wonder if she'll die like this. In her sleep. Peacefully. Or, if she'll get an infection. If she'll be in pain. If she'll know what's happening, if she'll be scared. If I'll be with her. I don't know any of this. All I know is that when she does die, be it in six years, or sixty, is that she will die loved. And, sometimes, I wonder if that's enough.
I'm not sure how long I've been in here when I hear footsteps. I turn around and see Troy, who walks over and sits next to me.
"Hi," he whispers.
"Hey," I smile back.
"Do you think this is our fault?" He asks. And I want to say no, because that's what all of the doctors have told us. That it has nothing to do with our genes, or anything we've done. But, I can't believe that this would just happen to us. I'm being punished for everything I've ever done wrong in my life by having to watch my two year old daughter fight for her life.
But then there's Troy. And I know that he in no way deserves this. He's perfect. But, maybe that's why this is happening. Because I married a man that I don't deserve, because he is far too amazing. Maybe that's why Leila is sick, to balance out that equation.
"I don't know," I whisper. "I just don't know."
We both sit in silence for a few minutes, before I speak up.
"I've been thinking," I say, and he sits up to listen.
"About?"
"Well…," I pause, not sure I really should bring this up. But then I remember the healthy smiling little Leila I knew a month ago. And I know I need to get her back. "…what do you think about having another baby?"
He looks at me, at first in shock, and then in anger.
"What?" he asks, whispering to not wake Leila, but I know if we were anywhere else in the house he would have shouted it. "Do you really want to just give up on her? To just replace her? She might be sick, but she's still our child!"
"I know that! You think I want to replace her? We could never do that! Which is why we need to do this. To make sure we never have to."
A/N: I don't really know if I like this chapter…I hope you all did, though. I'll start on chapter 4 tonight or tomorrow.
Sorry it took a while to get this out. Friday was my last day of school though, and my friends and I hung out all weekend. As soon as I got home I finished this up, though! Updates might not be all that consistent during the summer, depending on what I'm doing, but hopefully it'll never be too long.
Review please!
