Chapter 12; …You're Much Stronger Then Me (You Know You Are)
Saturday, November 5th, 2011
BROOKE
What is it that I can possibly tell you about everything that happened last night?
I mean, do you actually wanna hear all about how I spent a solid hour and a half sprawled out across my bathroom floor like a damn rag doll sobbing my eyes out until my body physically shook and throbbed with the pain of dehydration resultant in the loss of such a significant amount of water via my own tears…
Yeah, I don't blame you, I don't much wanna hear about it either…
Honestly, the one true thing you really need to know about what happened to me last night was that I fell so hard so fast that I didn't even realize gravity could move that quickly until I'd experienced its power first hand…
But of course, no matter how little I would like to recall this significantly drastic moment in my life, the fact of the matter was that it had at the very least managed to take a significant chunk of time out of my night, the subsequent recovery stealing even more as it supported me through near daybreak…
By the time I had shuffled back into my bedroom, it was nearly three in the morning, by the time Julian had finally returned the frantic phone call I'd left hours ago, it was already four…
I guess that he must have just figured that I didn't really sleep that much anymore anyway; time constraints were merely a limitation that I no longer bothered with…
"Brooke, what's the matter?"
He'd asked the question almost instantly upon his answering; the choking sobs combined with the strangled breaths I'd released being all he'd heard as I struggled to formulate a comprehensible sentence… And I guess that in that, I had to give him at least some credit, after all, he'd somehow managed to sit damn near silent, nothing more than listening for, a solid hour, as I filtered through my long list of woes and insecurities, forcing him into a tricky corner in which he'd have no choice but to say the right thing in his assurance which, I was happy to say, he did.
But even after that, spending the remainder of my evening, or in this case, my early morning with nothing but a few short words extended over a considerable distance to hold me over wasn't ideal so that as the sun slowly started to raise back upwards, and I began to recover from a night spent in darkness with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide, I struggled to remind myself that light is indeed something that will come back every morning to greet you… a fact of life that I'd damn near forgotten after the night that I'd just had.
But that was merely the spark notes version of things… the real version was just too depressing for even me to recall; and honestly, a little bit of optimism is exactly what I need right about now…
It has been getting colder down here.
That was the first thing that I'd noticed upon stepping out from behind the heated veil of my car.
The fall air had been gradually fading for days, leaving only the beginnings of winter gale behind it; a stark reminder that the seasons indeed do somehow manage to continuously change, whether or not you're actually around to notice it…
My power walking towards the hospital's main entrance kept me warm, but even after I'd safely crossed the glass doors, sheltered by the indoors, my pace didn't slow; in fact, if anything, it sped up; besides, I was beyond the point of time where I needed to stop somebody and ask to be pointed in the right direction.
Quickly, I made my way through the familiar maze up towards Sam's room, nearly frantic of what I would find when I got there – the ill effects of my absence – only to round the corner and find the scene in a relatively peaceful disposition rather than the calamity that I had expected.
Sam was laying in her bed, flat on her back, eyes firmly closed with a large pair of DJ-style headphones firmly clamped over each one of her ears and what I assumed to be the "pretty ghetto CD player" that she had received yesterday resting at her side, leaving me to assume that she was currently listening to some of the soothing, peaceful music that the woman who had come to visit her last night apparently left her with…
I stepped further into the room, trying my very hardest not to distract her, or even so much as wake her up, but it was only after I'd inched a handful of steps closer towards her that I realized how wrong I had been regarding my assumption of her musical selection because based on the thumping beat and head-pounding bass line that escaped from behind the barrier around Sam's ears, whatever she was listening to most definitely was not designed for relaxation and medication.
Bitches in the back looking righteous, in a tight dress, I think I might just; hit her with a little Biggie 101, how to tote a gun, and have fun with Jamaican rum. Conversation blunts in rotation my man Big Jacque's got the glock in his waist and now we're smokin', drinkin', got the hookers thinkin' if money smells bad then this nigga Biggie's stinkin'.
Was she being serious with me right now?
"Sam!" I yelled towards her, trying my very hardest to break her from the embracing of her inner gangsta, but I only got one response in return, and it sure as hell was not the one that I was looking for…
Is it my charm? I've got the hookers eatin' out my palm, she grabs my arm and says "let's leave calm." I'm hittin' skins again, rolled up another blunt bought a Heineken. Niggaz start to loke out a kid got choked out, blows was thrown and a fuckin' fight broke out.
"SAM!" I raised my voice the second time around, adding a soft punch to her shoulder in an effort to receive an actual response.
"Ow! What the hell, Brooke?" She shouted back at me in return, her eyes shooting open as she lifted herself upwards into a seated position, pulling the headphones down and around the back of her neck and slamming her finger down onto the pause button so that the obnoxious background noise ceased instantly.
And just for the record, I barely touched her.
"Biggie Smalls Sam, are you serious?" I asked her, raising my eyebrow towards her choice in musical selections as she struggled in front of me to settle into my sudden and unannounced interruption.
"Nobody listens to CD's anymore, Brooke," She attempted to explain; "This was all that I could find."
"I thought that you told me that that lady gave you a couple of CD's to listen to last night; you know, to help you relax, focus on your recovery; not to inspire you to go out and join a gang." I retorted, instantly eyeing up the small pile of said CD's that had been stacked neatly atop her bedside table, looking as if they hadn't even been touched, which, now that I thought about it, they probably hadn't been.
Picking up the topmost CD within the pile, I twirled it around my fingers a few times, inspecting the front cover carefully where it showed your stereotypical sunset over an ocean image with a faded Buddha statue superimposed into the background, the words Inner Peace written in soothing script across the bottom…
Okay, maybe I was starting to see where it was that Sam was coming from now.
"Come on Brooke, there's only so much Enya that I can listen to in one day, I'm not Haley you know."
"You've got me there, I guess," I laughed in my agreement, tossing the CD half hazard back onto the nightstand, "But just out of curiosity, where exactly was it that you found a Biggie Smalls CD on a pediatric oncology wing?"
"You know that kid TJ?" She shrugged casually, playing it cool like always.
"Oh I know TJ alright," I responded semi-sarcastically; on our first day here, TJ was the one who had nailed me right smack in the middle of my forehead with a pink Spalding ball while I had been at the vending machine attempting to beat a water bottle out of it… I would forever know him as the kid who procured a lump which roughly resembled a miniature rhinoceros horn on my face. His little brother was staying in the room directly next door to us battling a rare form of kidney cancer that had stopped responding to treatment a couple of weeks ago while his single mother spent her days trying to grapple with having no job, no insurance, and a dying child…
Like I always said, sometimes the tragedies that tend to run through these hallways run more skin deep than anybody can initially perceive…
"He gave it to me." She confirmed quickly.
"Isn't that kid like 10 years old?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, something like that; anyway, he let me borrow it this morning; I told him that it would make up for him almost knocking me over in the hallway this morning."
"Wait, when did you go out this morning?" I asked quickly, unintentionally changing the subject in the process so that I was certain I'd immediately come off as being more overbearing than I had initially intended on.
"Relax Brooke," Sam responded with an eye roll, confirming my previous thoughts, "The nurse took me around the hallway a few times this morning. Here, can you take these from me." Being clever as Sam always was, she didn't hesitate to take my subject change, and change it even further once again, preventing me from grilling her with the details that really were probably more boring than I envisioned them being…
I nodded my head carefully, watching as she unraveled her set of headphones back from around her neck, extending them towards my outreached hand where she pressed them directly into the center of my palm.
I looked downward, immediately noticing a bizarre sensation, a feeling that I hadn't expected so that my face contorted with an initial sense of confusion, only to soften into a remarkably striking observation…
Wrapped strategically across the plastic connector of the two ear buds was a large clump of tangled brown hair.
A rope that strung together reality, laced poetically with pure sorrow tangled right between my very fingers.
SAM
For a few very tense seconds, Brooke and I didn't do much of anything other than go back and forth a couple of times; a staring contest between our eyes and my strangled vat of hair, which had very suddenly, and not so mysteriously traveled from the top of my head straight into Brooke's outstretched hand so suddenly, it was as if it were by magic or something…
Oh yes, how very magical.
But unbeknownst to Brooke, this wasn't the first time I'd experienced the classic hair loss associated with chemotherapy… It just happened to be the first time I had done so with Brooke present to see, which, as strange as this may sound, just kind of made the entire situation even worse than it already had to be.
You see, earlier this morning, immediately following the beginning of my latest chemotherapy session, but before I knew I would begin feeling too sick to so much as move, I'd headed directly for the bathroom to do my thing…
And here's the thing, I have no absolutely who the genius was they'd hired to design the bathrooms in this place, but whoever it was must not have been very smart because they'd made it so that no matter where you are in those stupid little bathrooms, you can always stare directly at your reflection in the mirror… including while you're sitting on the toilet trying to take a piss…
I know, I know, my point exactly.
Anyway, I'd quickly taken up the habit of simply looking down at my feet while I did my business just to ensure to avoid the awkwardness that I'm sure you can imagine occurs between me and my very own reflection but today… well let's just say that today appeared to be just a little bit different.
To be honest, I didn't even truly notice the significant difference at first, the truth being that my hair had honestly been thinning for days, long before I'd started chemotherapy, long before I'd even been officially diagnosed… Just another side effect of the friendly little disease I like to call leukemia, I guess.
But it had never been anything like this before.
Starting yesterday, when I had washed up and performed my daily nighttime rituals to the tee, I had just been preparing to fall asleep when something had caught my eye in the mirror, causing me to stop so suddenly that my back cracked…
All of a sudden, there were dramatic patches, nuisances adorning my hairline fading lighter and lighter so that, in the most extreme of places, my hair could have easily passed as being blonde… It was only when I'd moved closer to inspect the damage further that I'd come to the realization that a handful of those random blonde spots were really just segments of my very own scalp staring right back at me…
This morning, I had spent a solid twenty minutes in the bathroom, just staring in an effort to convince myself that this new look didn't bother me as much as I knew it did, until finally, a nurse shuffled into the small room in search of me so that she could effectively change the bag full of all of the shit flooding through my veins that had gotten me into this tight spot to begin with.
And just as I was starting to believe that maybe getting myself out of this mirror would be for the best, I strolled back over towards my bed, and I found it; all of the hair that I had just spent nearly a half hour looking for in the bathroom, smeared straight across my pillow case right where I had left it this entire time.
And it was from that point on that it had suddenly became very, very official – my hair was definitely starting to fall out.
"Hey, are you okay?"Brooke asked me, finally breaking the silence so that her voice steered me from my deepest of thoughts and back towards everything that was directly in front of me, making me incredibly conscious of the fact that my eyes had suddenly grown just a little bit wetter than they had been a couple of minutes before.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine… it's stupid."I sighed, wiping at my lower eyelids quickly with the back of my hand, trying desperately to hide the fact that I was tearing up, even though I was more than positive that Brooke had already seen the entire thing.
Sitting up just a little bit taller within my own bed, positioning my posture confidently, I faltered by displaying my characteristic nervous habit of running my fingers through the hair layering the top of my head, which, as it turns out, only made things worse as I felt the familiar tug of hair strands coming out loosely between my fingers; a forceful reminder of why I had been feeling this way to begin with.
"It's not stupid Sam, this is big, and I know that it's hard, so come on, talk to me." She sat down gently next to me, pulling my body gently into her own just like she always did when she knew that I didn't seem to know what to do with myself.
There was a moment in my response where all I could do was stutter about aimlessly like a fool, unsure of exactly what it was that I should do or say, unsure of exactly what it was that I could do or say. The problem was, the more I tried to think of the words, the less I managed to come up with.
"It's okay Sam, it's all gonna be okay…" I guess that sometimes, there really wasn't anything to say, there was only me, waiting desperately for Brooke's assurance while I was rendered incapable of assuring myself.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry… I guess that it just kind of… I don't know, surprised me. It's my fault; I should have been expecting it."I mumbled my apology into the crook of Brooke's shoulder as she pulled me even closer; per usual, it seemed, reading my mind for me.
"You look beautiful you know, Sam." I latched onto her words, allowing them to compose me throughout the several minutes that I'd ended up needing before I felt safe enough to pull myself out of Brooke's arms again.
Poor Brooke; she looked at this moment, just about as bad as I felt although I found myself struggling to look at her for too long, embarrassed by her compliment, embarrassed by the fact that I just couldn't help myself but to smirk in my response…
The fact of the matter was, I don't think that I have ever been more grateful in my entire life than I found myself now towards the support that Brooke had continuously offered me; the support that, to her at least, seemed to be completely unconditional.
But even through that, I faced a problem; through all of this uncertainty, this insecurity, this growing fear of the unknown bubbling inside of me, I couldn't help but wonder – as stereotypical of an insecure teenage girl as this may make me sound – how the hell it was possible for Brooke to still be able to look me in the eye and speak those words to me so confidently when I knew how absolutely untrue they must be right about now.
I'm not sure if it had anything to do with our earlier conversation, or maybe if it was just based off the fact that I had gone into today generally feeling pretty crappy, but as my daily chemotherapy round progressed boringly just as it normally did, I found myself falling into a greater and greater distance between Brooke and I.
Of course, there had been the always eventful fit of puking… twice, and that had been followed by an unexpected, yet equally as exciting nosebleed that didn't seem to want to go away until the nurses had been forced to infuse me with platelets just to keep my counts high, but besides that, I spent the majority of my day with my headphones firmly clamped over my ears, grateful for some of my own music for a change as Brooke had finally brought my old iPod back for me from home.
Sure, I felt bad about shutting her out, especially after all of the things she had done for me this morning, but that familiar, unpleasant bubble just didn't seem to want to stop rising from the very depts. Of my stomach, and for some reason, I had always believed that by keeping quiet and consequently unemotional, maybe I could physically will the sickness right out of my body.
Of course, that theory never quite worked to my advantage. Actually, now that I thought about it, they usually just tended to make things worse; much worse.
But still, my mouth stayed firmly shut, and low and behold, for a while there at least, the contents of my stomach remained exactly where they had belonged…
Meanwhile, to my right, Brooke had been spending the past two hours or so flipping through a magazine so slowly, that at this pace, by the time she got through every last article within the thing, I would probably be completely finished with all of my treatments.
Either that, or I would already be dead, whichever came first, I guess… Joke! I was joking about that one… kind of.
But I guess that it would stand to be that I would never know which scenario would ever play out first, because before I could conjure up the time to actually watch that little, self-created dilemma unfold, Brooke slammed her magazine closed so abruptly, and so firmly, that I jumped a little bit in my surprise, turning my head just in time to watch her stand to her feet.
"I'll be right back." She made her announcement, leaving me even more confused and openmouthed than I had been before she'd spoke.
"What?" I pulled my headphones from my ears, one after the other, still convinced that I had somehow managed to hear her wrong, trying to get her to confirm the fact that I really needed to get up and start cleaning the wax out of my ears, because there was absolutely no way in hell that I'd just heard Brooke Davis willingly volunteer to leave her well guarded fortress, designated in the shape of an armchair besides my bed; especially after these past couple of hours.
"I said I'll be right back."She repeated the same sentence as before, confirming the fact that I had indeed heard her correctly the first time she'd spoken… Well this was weird.
"Where are you going?" I asked, unusually curious considering the fact that no more than ten seconds ago I had wanted absolutely nothing to do with anybody around me, including Brooke.
"Nowhere," She shrugged, "I just have an idea that's all," I raised a skeptical eyebrow up at her suspiciousness, "I'll have my cell if you need anything but I won't be too long. Do you need anything while I'm gone?"
"No…" I spoke uncertainly, my confusion laced heavily within my voice as I watched her throw her jacket up and over her shoulders.
"Alright, I'll see you in a few minutes then." I'd barely registered her goodbye, my mind too busy scrambling with the idea of just what the hell it was that Brooke was up to as I watched her walk quickly over towards the door, turning back to look at me just once, before she'd finally disappeared completely behind it.
Hospitals have got to be the most boring and depressing places ever created in the history of boring and depressing places.
I'm just saying, it didn't take me very long to come up with the conclusion that it was no wonder that half of the people who walk through these main doors never walk back out of them again; they probably all offed themselves out of pure boredom before they'd ever had the opportunity to leave.
Now, you may think that I'm over-exaggerating here, but as I laid here in my bed, waiting for Brooke and passing the time by counting the number of ceiling tiles splayed out above my head, I realized that it must be true.
And as fun as my chosen activity may sound right now to you, let me tell you this, there are only so many damn times that I could actually count the two hundred thirty one ceiling tiles that I knew to be arranged up there…
And just for the record, I'd already known that to be the exact number long before this particular exertion began.
Jesus, where the hell was Brooke? It's been nearly a half an hour since she'd left now, and the only reason that I really knew that was because on top of counting ceiling tiles, yet another particular specialty of mine was counting seconds.
1,583. That's roughly twenty six minutes for those of you who aren't as quick with your division as I had become.
But just as I'd allowed these thoughts to enter my mind, and just as I truly began to develop a nice, steady flow of initiating casual conversation with myself, I suddenly heard a small scurry scampering on the other side of the closed door, one which distracted me mid-conversation just as me, myself, and I prepared to count all of the floor panels…
"Brooke, what the hell are you doing?" I shouted into the distance, watching as Brooke slowly began to back, ass first into my room, moving as if she were dancing in a club rather than walking through a hospital.
"I was reading this article in that magazine," She explained quickly, finally turning to reveal the source of her awkward gait – an armful of shopping bags, posters, even a stupid, tacky Get Well Soon balloon, laden between her arms. "It was all about Feng Shui and it got me seriously thinking that you could seriously use a little bit of Feng Shui up in here."
She wasted absolutely no time in getting her self-proclaimed Feng Shui on, thrusting her shopping bags out across the dresser before immediately revealing a small, plug-in fountain from within the depths of one of them…
Only Brooke Davis, I swear to God.
"What the hell is Feng Shui, exactly?"I asked, watching her amazedly as she hustled across the room, tacking posters to the wall as she went,,, She even had a freaking throw rug to lay across the floor for God's sake…
"It's some Chinese thing. Come on, I'm trying to make you your own personal little Zen-den over here." She tried her hardest to explain, but I wasn't following along here, "And besides, I got you a present."
Now we're talking here. I perked up at her announcement, watching carefully as she stepped away from her self-assigned interior design project in an effort to dig through her second bag of goodies…
"What is it?" I asked her, suddenly much more curious than I had been a few moments ago as I attempted to peer over her and identify the so-called present still trapped within the depths of the bag.
"Well, first, I took a little pit stop down to Barnes and Noble because I just happen to know that you finished your last book," She motioned towards the Siddhartha book I had been reading for Haley's class, strewn sloppily across the nightstand.
"You got me a new book?"
"Even better," She spoke animatedly, "I got you about a year's supply of magazines, all equally just as likely to thoroughly rot your brain." I raised my eyebrows, slightly skeptical as I watched her unveil a relatively large stack of all of the Cosmo's and Marie Clair's and US Weekly's that I could ever ask for.
"Yeah, I thought you might have that reaction," She laughed at my attempt at looking appreciative, "That's why I also got you this." She delved into the bag once again, this time re-emerging with a second stack that looked to be more in my taste than gossip magazines; a small pile of novels that I immediately sifted through in my attempts to decide which one I wanted to tackle first.
"The magazines are more for me, really," She responded with a smirk as I rolled a brand new copy of Brave New World through my hands.
"Thanks Brooke," I breathed appreciatively.
"Oh wait, there's more."I turned my head immediately upwards in response to her comment; was I a present magnet, or was I a present magnet?
I was positively giddy in my anticipation, straining my eyes to nearly painful proportions in an effort to disclose this grand finale prematurely as Brooke took her sweet ass time digging through her bag, retracting her elbow, and pulling out… a giant roll of Velcro?
"What is it?" I asked, trying not to sound ungrateful as I inspected the device Brooke had just handed over to me.
"I saw it while I was waiting on line at Target… It's a lint roller." She professed proudly, but despite the explanation, I still couldn't help but remain very, very confused.
"A lint roller?" I asked her, repeating her own words back to her… What the hell was I supposed to do with a lint roller; start a collection of the growing proportions of lint that I was accumulating here in my strictly sterile 11' by 11' box?
"Yeah, I mean, technically speaking it's supposed to be used for shedding dogs, but you know, I figured that shedding people ought to count too, right?" She clarified her intentions for the usage of the object, and I couldn't help but laugh at the absolute ludicrous of her statement, shaking my head in a display of mock disappointment towards her stark lack of political correctness.
"Thanks," I laughed, hoping that she would pick up on the fact that my gratitude ran more than skin deep.
"Well come on already, don't keep me waiting over here, how about a test run?"She shuffled me along quickly as I unraveled the device out from within its plastic wrappings and rolled it along my shoulders, the sticky paper collecting a generous amount of my fallen hair; an event that had previously upset me so, suddenly feeling a million times better thanks to Brooke's doing,
That Brooke Davis, I must admit, knows how to get things done, and she knows how to do it with style.
"Here, let me help you out."Brooke extended her hand out to me, silently indicating for me to hand over the merchandise, and I obliged, allowing her to tackle a tricky section of my lower back that I knew I never would have been able to grapple with without her assistance.
I zoned out slightly, allowing her to take over completely, relishing over the comfort of being taken up by somebody else's wings until I was pulled harshly from my thoughts, flinching suddenly as I felt a strong amount of pressure bearing down on the top of my head, followed by an even stronger pull, a slight tug, and a bit of a sting following in its wake.
"Ow! Brooke, what the hell are you doing?" I shouted, ducking out from underneath her apparently painful touch, twisting myself around so that I could face her in an effort to see what exactly it was that she was doing to me up there.
"How cool is that?" She asked me enthusiastically, ignoring my shouting at her as she stared down at the roller in her hand, spinning it strategically between her palm so that I managed a full-on view of the chunk of hair attached to it, one which she'd managed to take directly off of the top of my scalp.
"What that my hair is falling out?" I asked her, rubbing gently at the section of my head still stinging slightly.
"No, that it just comes out like that, it's crazy. Come on, let's do it again!"
"No!" I ducked effectively, covering myself underneath a veil created by my own arms for safety as Brooke swooped down in an effort to locate a clear access point to my head.
"But it's so cool," She insisted, "Come on, just one more time!"
"Ugh, fine," I gave in easily, resurfacing from underneath my cover in an effort to allow Brooke the opportunity to humor herself, laughing like a giddy toddler at my own demise as she continuously ripped the hair, most of which was still firmly attached to my head, might I add, firmly from my scalp.
"Woah, would you look at that?" She marveled so that I was suddenly overwhelmed with the sense that this was going to be one of those things that never got old to Brooke, no matter how many times she did it, and I had to give her some credit here, or better yet, a lot of credit, because it was all due to her that this suddenly wasn't as bad anymore…
I don't know, I guess that Brooke just ahs this uncanny ability of making everything better, no matter how shitty the situation.
Suddenly it was okay that all of my hair had began falling out, suddenly it was okay that I was stuck inside of this hospital for God only knows how much longer, suddenly it was okay that I had gone from being that fiercely independent orphan girl to the brutally dependent sick kid.
I don't know, I guess that it's just that in my entire life, I have never really been apt to allowing anybody, especially not such a large group of people as I was experiencing now, take care of me, and I think honestly, that was one of the biggest reasons that I had been having such a difficult time adapting lately…
But I'm starting to figure that now that I didn't really have any sort of choice in the matter, I was finally learning exactly how to embrace it, and if anything, I have without a doubt began to grow more and more humbled by absolutely everything going on around me; even more than I would even care to admit on most days because let's face it, it never is a particularly easy thing to do – caving in, I mean.
But even I would have to admit this much; with Brooke by my side, this entire situation had just gone from incomprehensibly unbearable, to being that much easier; and that smallest of nodules of comfort, truly did make all of the difference in the world.
JAMIE
When I got out of basketball practice today, I was kind of surprised when I saw that my mom had come to pick me up and take me home, because just before Uncle Skillz had come over to my house to pick me up to come here, she'd told me how sorry she was that she couldn't make it to my game today but she had to go to work just like she always has to do on Saturdays when she's too busy during school to finish her homework.
Now, I still really don't know who would want to go to school on a Saturday, but I guess that it was okay, because since she was going to be at school all day, I would be able to go over to Andre's house and his mom would take us down to the park so that we could hang out with some of the guys from our class.
But after we were finished playing, there she was, standing over on the bleachers between Andre's and Madison's mom, talking about something that was probably really boring like what they do at work or what they'll cook for dinner like they usually did.
"Momma," I yelled, excited to see her as I flung myself over to her, "What are you doing here?" I waited for my answer, trying to be patient like she always told me to be, but I was too excited; maybe daddy had gotten home early from playing basketball in Florida, or maybe we had to go to the airport to pick him up, or even better, maybe she was going to let me go get lunch at McDonald's or something while we waited for his plane to land.
"What, I can't watch my favorite little man play basketball?" She asked me, ruffling my hair down flat.
"I guess that it's okay," I shrugged, following her as she led me out of the gym.
"Momma, can I still go over to Andre's to play?" I asked, noticing that neither Andre, nor his mom was following us as we walked.
"Actually Jamie, I was thinking that maybe you and me could go on a little… field trip." Wow, a field trip? Cool, I loved field trips.
"Like that time that Ms. Lauren took us to the museum with all of the dinosaur bones in it last year?" I asked as she opened the backseat of our car for me and let me climb up into my booster seat.
"Not really, buddy; actually, I was thinking that maybe you'd want to go visit your Aunt Brooke and Sam?"
"Yeah!" I yelled my answer really, really loud because I was really, really excited. After all, I had been waiting for momma to take me to go visit Aunt Brooke and Sam for practically forever now. I hadn't seen them in a really long time now and I was starting to miss them a lot, especially considering how much I had to tell Sam, like about how daddy let me go skateboarding all by myself on Tuesday and I didn't even fall once and how we'd won our basketball game today and I had scored almost twenty whole points all by myself.
"Is Sam still in the hospital momma?" I asked, buckling my seatbelt while my mom started the car.
"Yeah Jamie, Sam still isn't feeling very well so I need you to remember, when you see Sam today, the two of you might not be able to play like you usually do, and I don't want you to bother her too much about it, because she's probably gonna be pretty tired, okay little man?"
"Okay," I nodded, sitting up straighter in my chair so that I could practice being on my best behavior.
"Do you promise?" My mom asked me, and I could see her looking right at me through the rearview mirror so that I knew she was serious.
"Yeah momma, I promise." Maybe if I was really, really good today, Sam would be able to feel better and then we would be able to play again… I hoped so, anyway.
"Okay then," She nodded, pulling the car out of her parking spot, "Let's go."
I don't think that my mom let go of my hand once the entire time that we were walking except for the time that we were in the elevator and she let me push the number six button that would take us upstairs onto the sixth floor.
And now, I wasn't about to admit this, because if any of the guys ever found out they would make fun of me until high school, but I was kind of glad that I had her holding onto me, because I had never been inside of this place before, except for maybe when I was born, and it was a pretty scary place to be…
We rode up the elevators with a bunch of different people; some of them had some pretty cool stuff with them like big balloons or flowers or baskets full of funny fruits and stuff, and I liked to look at all of the presents, but it made me feel kind of bad that I didn't have any stuff like that to give to Sam although I did have a card that I made her in school the other day so I guess that might count…
We got off of the elevator and walked down a hallway with a bunch of doors, most of which were closed, until finally, my mom pulled me over to the side in front of another door that was closed and stopped, crouching down in front of me without opening it…
"Okay Jamie, now remember, Sam might look a little bit different to you than what you're used to right now, but don't be scared buddy, because it's just her getting a lot of different medicines that will help her not feel so sick anymore, okay?"
"Okay," I nodded, because I didn't want her to think that I was afraid even though I was a little bit, "I won't be scared."
"Alright," She nodded her head, standing back up before knocking gently on the door, not waiting for anybody to answer it though before she opened it.
"Brooke?" She called into the room, walking a few steps inside of it, pulling me along with her by the arm, and as I strained my neck in order to see around my mom, I got a quick glimpse at my Aunt Brooke and Sam, but once I did, I couldn't really tell what it was that they were doing, because whatever it was, it looked pretty weird to me.
Sam was sitting up in her bed but at the same time, she was leaning over this really, really big bucket. It almost sounded as if she was puking or something… at least, she sounded exactly like I do when I got sick, or when I ate too much pizza or something.
My Aunt Brooke was taking care of Sam, but I think she still must have heard my momma calling out to her, because she looked up the second that we walked into the room, and just like momma said they might, Aunt Brooke was looking very sad today, and Sam, very sick.
"Hey Jamie honey, why don't I take you to go over and check out that really cool playroom that we passed on our way over here?" My momma made the offer but I didn't want to go… I may only be six years old but I wasn't a stupid six year old; I knew when somebody was trying to get rid of me.
But at the same time, I think that maybe something really, really bad was happening in here… at the very least, there was definitely something strange going on, and I knew that my mom always tried to distract me with things like food, or a really cool play room when something bad was happening.
But I had promised her before we came here that I would be the best listener that I could possibly be today, so instead of fighting with her, or insisting that I stay here to see my Aunt Brooke and Sam, who I hadn't even gotten the chance to say hi to yet, I allowed her to take my hand and bring me back into the hallway.
Momma took me just a couple of doors down the hall, and when we walked into the room, I realized that she had been right; it was pretty cool in here. First of all, it was humongous; second of all, it was packed with a whole bunch of toys and video games and stuff, third of all, there was a whole bunch of kids, most of them who looked to be about the same age as me sitting in here playing.
I looked around a little bit, standing back nervously as my mom walked up to a lady sitting at a large table in the middle of the room and began talking to her… I couldn't help but notice that while some of the kids in the playroom looked just like I did, some of the others well… didn't.
I wanted to ask my mom about this, I wanted her to tell me why some of the kids looked normal while most of the others looked skinny, with no hair looking so sick that they could have been the ghosts that I always read about in the horror books that my dad let me read when my mom wasn't home to say no…
But I was afraid that she might be mad at me, afraid that she'd yell at me for being rude especially considering the fact that right before we'd came here my mom had told me that the kids that were staying here were very, very sick, just like Sam was, and that I needed to be extra nice to all of them.
"Jamie honey, why don't you come over and play with these kids over here." She took me up to the table where the lady she had just been talking to, who was helping one of the little girls who looked sick like Sam, paint a picture of something.
"Jamie, this is Vanessa," My mom pointed towards the lady in the chair, "And this is Kayla." She then turned to the girl who was sick like Sam, "Do you mind staying here and playing with them for a couple of minutes while I go check on Sam and your Aunt Brooke?"
"Okay," I nodded to her, trying to sound brave even though I was very nervous about my mom leaving me here all by myself with these people that I didn't even know.
"Alright, I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" She told me, kissing the top of my head in an effort to make me feel at least a little bit better because I had the feeling she knew that I was scared, before leaving.
Falling slowly down into the chair she had pulled out for me, I watched my mom until I couldn't even see her anymore, and after she disappeared entirely, it left me with a strange feeling that I couldn't exactly pinpoint… I don't know, I guess there was just something weird about this place, something I didn't like.
I wanted to go home. Who knows, maybe Sam could even come with us, I mean, she could stay at our house if she couldn't stay at Aunt Brooke's, and then my mom could take care of her and even make her some of her awesome homemade chicken soup that she always made for me when I didn't feel good. I wouldn't even mind helping her out if that's what it took.
"Jamie, do you want to paint a picture with us?" The lady who momma told me's name was Vanessa asked, and I nodded, taking the small paint brush that she handed me, pulling a clean piece of paper in front of me so that I could paint a picture that I could give to Sam later to make her feel better faster.
I didn't talk very much, in fact, I didn't even want to talk very much… Instead, I just painted, I just waited for my mom to come back, I waited for her to take me home…
The thing was, even though I have been asking my mom and dad to bring me over here to see Sam all week long now, I think that I was finally starting to understand why it was that they had waited so long to allow me to come.
HALEY
It was mere minutes after I had gotten back into Sam's room upon leaving it that I officially began to feel even worse about taking Jamie here to begin with, only to hurry him right back out again, abandoning him in a strange place with a pitiful excuse, offering him nothing more than an assurance that I would be back shortly…
I can't believe that I had just left him there… after all, seeing firsthand, the firsthand effects of the disease ravishing Sam's body was a traumatizing experience even to me, a full grown woman. I could only imagine what it must have done to Jamie…
I knew that I shouldn't have taken him here today. How the hell could I have been so stupid, so careless, especially when it came down to my son.
But then I had stepped back into Sam's room, and I realized that whatever problems, whatever internal battles I was currently facing, this poor kid in front of me was going through something much, much worse, something that was even less comprehensible than the prior.
It appeared at first glance, that Sam had finally been gifted with a well deserved break from her rounds of vomiting as she sat up stiffly in her chair, attempting to towel out the vomit that had missed the bucket in front of her and had instead, landed directly on her as Brooke circled the room gracefully attempting to clean the rest of the mess.
"Haley," She'd been the first to notice me as she rotated her head sideways in an effort to clean off her shoulders; it was an open invitation towards the idea that it was once again safe to enter the room, and I took it as motivation to get my feet moving again.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt," I responded meekly, walking slowly further and further into the room.
"No way, you came just in time to pick up on some serious action." Sam assured me that my presence was viewed as nothing close to an intrusion as she began picking a horrible string of puke and saliva out from within the bangs that had clearly gotten in the way of her mouth… I just couldn't help but notice that the mess wasn't the only thing she'd managed to remove, but the entire strand of hair as well.
Her hair had begun falling out.
"Yeah Hales, don't worry about it, really." Brooke assured me that my concern was unwarranted, pulling me into a short hug, "Thanks for coming."
"No problem," I responded, pulling away in an effort to turn towards Sam, virtually ignoring the two of us in delving deep into her own problems at hand.
"How are you doing, Sam?" I asked her, making the attempt to include her although all three of us probably already knew the answer to my question before I'd even asked it.
"I'm doing alright," She spoke after such a long pause that I had half expected her not to say anything back to me. But still, she spoke amidst an exasperated sigh of frustration, the second her mouth closed, her stomach muscles visibly clenching around themselves, forcing her to lean forwards over her bucket once more in a desperate attempt for her body to loosen up once more.
There was an incredibly tense moment, one in which we all held our breaths, waiting to see what would come, but thankfully, we were met with nothing in return…
Sam resurfaced from the depths of her bucket clean, despite being slightly red-eyed and puffy faced in a manner that I couldn't distinguish between being from the pressure build up associated with her non-delivering gagging or being from sheer exhaustion, or maybe even both…
"I'm gonna go get you a clean pair of pants to change into, okay Sam?" Brooke prepared her for the brief absence, trying her damn hardest not to be deterred by Sam's silent pleas for her to stay.
"Yeah, okay," Sam muttered, facing downwards towards the soiled scrub pants that she was currently sporting; colorful and decorated with just about everything that used to be inside of her stomach.
"Hey, you need any help there?" I asked Sam as Brooke disappeared around the corner into the hallway, trying to think of anything that I could possibly do to contribute as Sam pulled herself shakily to her feet, stepping away from the chair slowly before steadying herself within the center of the room.
"No… no, I'm okay… I'm better." Sam rephrased her initial sentence, knowing clear well that she was nothing even close to okay as she carefully pulled the pair of dirty socks off of her feet, shuffling through a large pile of clothes I couldn't be sure were clean or dirty for an at least fresher pair.
And as she moved in circles around me, doing what she could to clean herself off, I immediately noticed everything that I had suspected earlier, ultimately confirming it to be the truth; Sam's hairline, beginning at her forehead, looping across the area behind her ears was unmistakably thinner, some parts even missing completely as if it had literally shot backwards back into her skull since last I'd seen her.
She disposed of her filthy t-shirt immediately, throwing it off around her head so that she was left standing directly in front of me wearing nothing more than some loose-fitting pajama bottoms and her bra, but I knew that her previously unwavering teenage modesty must have faltered days ago now, privacy being a word completely removed from her vocabulary in her post-diagnosis state.
And as rude as I knew it to be, I couldn't help myself but to stare; it was the protruding ribs, the pointy collarbones, they stuck out at me, capturing my attention as vigilantly as if a sudden firework show had erupted throughout the room.
Ultimately, I found my eyes lingering outwards onto the three-pronged device hanging limply from the area by which it stuck out from her chest, contrasting horribly against her pale skin and the swollen mass of bruising surrounding it.
And as crazy as this may sound, in my head, I actually found myself able to envision an elaborate picture of those little droplets of chemotherapy drugs dripping across the tubing and into her body, literally waging war against the miniscule cancer cells… And when I say literally, I truly do mean literally; like with swords, knights, horses, the whole nine yards, galloping valiantly throughout the entirety of Sam's blood stream.
"Franz." Sam spoke suddenly, tossing a fresh t-shirt over her head, blocking my piercing gaze away from an entirely imagined medieval battle, forcing myself to come back into grips with the real life scenario, which, as it was, was much less exciting, and much, much more tragic.
"What?" I'd asked her to repeat herself, convinced I'd heard wrong as I snapped my attention upwards towards where she stared at me with a humored expression dancing across her face.
"My port, I named him Franz… Sorry, I couldn't help but notice that you'd taken a liking to him." She pointed casually to her chest as if it were normal to be existing with a tube sticking out of it, which I guess, in Sam's life these days, it was.
I returned the look of satisfied humor, yet struggled with the appropriate words to say in this manner, although luckily for me, I was spared the opportunity to comment back by Brooke, who'd sauntered quickly into the room with an armful of sheets and a fresh pair of pants at exactly the right moment.
"What are you doing up, Sam?" She asked, tossing the scrub pants over towards Sam who wasted no time in changing as Brooke hurriedly moved to change the sheets surrounding Sam's messy bed.
"You know, I didn't really feel like hanging around in clothes covered with my own puke anymore," Sam explained, as if this had been the most obvious explanation in the entire world, "So I decided to change."
"Are you feeling better at least?" Brooke asked, multi-tasking in tucking the blankets corners underneath the mattress while simultaneously swiveling her head around in order to watch Sam carefully in her response.
"My head kind of hurts," Sam shrugged, dropping her body slowly back into her chair the second that her pants were securely tied around her slim waist.
"Do you want me to go get the nurse? She might be able to give you something; it's been a few hours since your last dose of Zofran." Brooke questioned Sam, one foot already halfway out the door before the girl so much as had the opportunity to respond.
"No, I'll be okay. I don't need any more of that crap floating around inside of me anyway." She waved Brooke off, emphasizing her gesture by sinking further into the chair. "Hey, by the way, was that Jamie I saw in my room before?" She'd asked the question I knew she'd been dying to release probably since she'd seen him, desperate to steer the topic of conversation far away from herself.
"Yep, that was him." I answered, surprised, no, impressed that she'd actually managed to spot the boy from the less than attentive position that she had been in when the two of us had initially arrived, "He's over in the playroom with a couple of kids. I can go get him if you want."
"Do you think I can come with you?" Sam asked tentatively, despite her previous admittance of suffering from what I was sure was a pretty severe headache, her desperation to just get the hell out of this damned room for a few minutes even more severe… In fact, she was already half way up and out of her seat before she paused, looking nervously towards Brooke, silently asking the woman for permission, watching as, despite her better judgment, Brooke forced her head to perform a shallow nod.
"Cool," Sam stood, shaking off Brooke's offer to provide her with assistance immediately as she took a slightly instable step forwards towards the door.
What would normally be about a thirty second walk, maybe even less, ended up taking us a good five minutes, Sam struggling like a one hundred year old woman with every step that she took.
I found my shoulder acting for her, as her own temporary support beam, the saving grace that kept her upright throughout the entirety of the journey as Brooke doubled back slightly behind us, dragging Sam's IV pump behind her which, with all of the crap hanging off of it at this point, probably weighed more than poor Brooke did.
We meandered through to the playroom, spotting Jamie easily as he helped another boy who looked to be just about the same age as him, construct an ever-going skyscraper of Jenga blocks… until that is, he'd managed to spot the three of us standing in the doorway.
"SAM!" He'd shouted so loudly that nearly every head in the room turned, watching as Jamie abandoned both his game as well as his newfound friend for the girl, bounding so quickly over towards her that I couldn't help but notice Sam instinctively slinking backwards, her body tensing in anticipation of the blow of the six year olds attack, which, for those of you who aren't familiar with it, can indeed be pretty powerful.
I shot the boy a death glare, silently communicating with him to behave himself just as we'd talked about earlier, and lucky for all of us, but mostly for Sam, he'd caught me before actually making contact with the girl, skidding to a halt just in time to prevent the havoc that I knew would have ensued had the two actually collided.
"Hey," I scolded Jamie, maybe a little bit harsher than I actually had to, "What did I tell you before?"
"Sorry momma," He apologized instantly, turning his gaze downwards towards his feet.
"It's okay Jamie," I sighed, immediately feeling bad for having yelled at him, "Now how about you go and say hi to Sam like a normal human being, huh?"
"Hey Jamie," Sam spoke enthusiastically, clearly noticing Jamie's prominent disappointment towards being yelled at, "It's no problem, you see, I'm just fine." She assured him in a manner to boost his spirits, leaning downwards to provide him with her own, much gentler embrace.
"What are you playing over here?" She asked him, easing the subject away from the fiasco of their greeting, allowing Jamie to grab her by the hand and pull her towards the table that he had just come from.
"Jenga, do you wanna play?" He sat down in his same chair as before, allowing Sam to take the abandoned adjacent seat although she looked uncomfortable within it, her knees pressed up against her chest, squished into the table and chair set that had been designed for kids no taller than four feet.
"Sure I do." She answered Jamie's question, ensuring him as enthusiastically as she possibly could, and I watched, as Jamie leaned into the already teetering tower, surveying it carefully in an effort to plan his next move.
"How are you feeling today, Brooke?" I asked the older woman quietly, so that nobody else could hear, watching as she took a handful of small, additional steps until she was standing directly next to me, her arms crossed, staring straight ahead towards Jamie and Sam.
"I don't know… Sam was okay this morning but then she started to get pretty sick just a few minutes before you got here." I couldn't help but notice that nowhere in that sentence had she answered my question by telling me how she was doing…
"What about you, Brooke?" I rephrased, watching from the corner of my eye as Jamie successfully removed his wooden plank from within the Jenga tower, "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine." She answered quickly, and might I add, completely unbelievably.
I wasn't sure how it was that I was supposed to respond to her lie, so instead of doing so like any good friend would, I merely watched Sam as she lifted an arm, shaky from the combination of all of the drugs built up inside of her system as well as the dehydration and electrolyte imbalance that's always par for the course when you'd spent the better part of your week doing nothing but vomiting.
She picked her block, made her move, and…
"Shit," The sound of Sam's exploitative preceded the actual sound of the tower crashing down against the table and we both watched Sam as, realization spreading across her eyes like fire, she clasped her hands firmly over her mouth, upset with herself for making the mistake of uttering a profanity across a roomful of small children, as Jamie, who could pick up on a curse from a mile away, tried to pretend as if he hadn't heard anything for Sam's sake although the way by which the corners of his mouth downturned into a frown indicated that he had.
"I'm sorry Jamie," Sam apologized immediately to the boy, her voice fading so that I was suddenly very much so aware of the silence that infiltrated my ears despite being in a room filled to the brim with loud, bustling small children.
"Hey Sam," Brooke approached the girl carefully, placing a hand on her back just as the girl rested her elbows against the table and pinched the bridge of her nose firmly between the thumb and index finger of her right hand, "Do you wanna go back to your room?"
"Yeah," Sam sighed in an immediate response, wasting no time in getting back up to her feet, walking towards the door with the assistance of Brooke by her side.
Our little tetrad made its way back down the hallway equally as slowly as we had done when we'd been arriving as Jamie, not appreciative or understanding of the reasoning behind our snail's pace, leapt ahead of us, over-shooting Sam's room by about five doors, watching as a little girl, who couldn't be any older than four or five, whizzed around the corner, standing on the base of the IV pump that she was attached to, her mother pulling her along as the girl giggled with delight, a nice reminder that not everything around here always had to be bad.
"I wanna try! Momma, can I try?" Jamie yelled enthusiastically, pointing towards the mother and daughter duo so that I had half the mind to yell at him, to remind him that he should be so lucky as to not have the opportunity to take a ride through the hospital's hallways on his own IV pole but luckily, Sam interjected before I'd had the opportunity to turn his innocent question into a huge deal.
"Yeah Jamster, here, you can borrow mine." She indicated towards her own metal rod dragging behind her, helping him carefully onto the base, making sure that he had a firm grip on the thing before making the attempt to wrap her own hand around it to pull him along and… nothing.
The poor kid didn't even have the strength to pull a fifty pound kid a couple of feet…
"What's wrong Sam?" Jamie asked, looking around for a possible cause of the delay, mesmerized when he couldn't seem to find a physical source of the problem.
"Nothing, Jamie…uh, Brooke?" She pleaded to the woman for assistance without actually speaking the words and I watched as Brooke grasped the meaning behind the message instantaneously, walking past the girl with a quick, gentle touch to her shoulder.
Silent communication; I swear, those two had mastered their very own language in the past couple of months, and as it turned out, it was a language that didn't even involve speaking half the time… I don't know, it was just clear as day to me that they had something, and whatever it was, that something was special.
"Are you ready, Jamie?" Brooke asked the child, who, judging by the look of giddy anticipation splayed out across his face was more than ready.
"Yeah!" He yelled up to Brooke, so loudly that his voice echoed throughout the length of the hallway. "Okay, here we go." Brooke gave Jamie a firm push, the boy laughing with pure delight despite the fact that he probably could have crawled faster than Brooke was pushing him.
The ride managed to last a grand total of about thirty feet, maybe a little bit more, ending only when Sam was safely back within her room, comfortable inside of her own bed, immediately grabbing at the remote attached to the edge of the bed so that she could adjust herself into a seated position while simultaneously turning on the television.
And if there was one thing that I knew could ever attract a man's attention, it was a remote control that could adjust the angle of your back while simultaneously turning on the television set in front of you.
"What's that Sam?" Jamie asked, bouncing over towards her. Are you starting to see what I mean?
I watched my son as he crawled into Sam's bed, not even waiting for an invite before climbing on top in his effort to further investigate this strange new device.
"It's a remote control for pretty much everything in here." She explained, making the mistake of handing the thing over to him considering the fact that now, she would probably never get it back again.
"Momma, can I get one of these for my room?" He asked, experimenting with a few of the buttons as he lowered both himself and Sam down into a completely seated position.
"No Jamie, you're perfectly capable of getting up to turn on the TV yourself." He sighed at my answer, clearly frustrated.
"I wish that I could stay here all the time like Sam can." He grumbled to himself, and although we all knew that he truly had no idea exactly the depth of what he was saying, Brooke, Sam and I couldn't help but exchange awkward looks… If only he did.
"Trust me Jamie, it gets old fast." Sam assured the boy easily, patting him on the back as he raised the legs of the bed into a comfortable lounging position, changing the channel on the television dangling above their heads to Cartoon Network.
"Oh, Sam, I made you a card yesterday at school!" Jamie shouted suddenly, forgetting all previous woes as he rolled off the bed and ran towards me, looking for me to retrieve his get well card stored safely away within the confines of my bag.
I extended what was probably the cutest get well soon card ever created in the history of get well soon cards, allowing him to grab it from me with a distinct pride before he'd headed back over towards Sam, curling up underneath her shoulder, revealing the card towards her with a quick "ta-da" sound, immediately explaining the elaborate picture he had painted across the front of it of him and Sam doing various activities such as playing basketball and skateboarding and eating ice cream and of course, my favorite drawing; him and Sam deep-sea fishing together for hammer head sharks… I have absolutely no idea where the hell the kid had gotten that from, he had an imagination all his own sometimes, I swear.
I watched the two interacting carefully, and through Jamie's explanations, and Sam's careful listening, if I blocked my surroundings out well enough, I was almost able to imagine that we were sitting back in my living room or something, a normal place, a normal occasion, a normal life…
As bad as I knew that it was for me to do this though, I couldn't help myself; after all, I had always been the one who had thought I'd had a firm grip on my life. I had always been the one who had known what I truly wanted, and more importantly, knew that I was going to get it.
Recent moments in time, so miniscule in comparison, so monumental in perception had shook these ideas to their very foundations, forced me to reconsider my agenda on life until I'd found myself holding onto the little moments, such as this one right here, right now between Sam and Jamie, to keep me sturdy on my feet.
My main point is this; my beliefs, my very faith in humanity, well they'd been knocked down flat as a whole in just about the amount of time it took to say the word cancer, but as I watched Jamie sit here and read Sam his card, expressing his desire for her to get better quickly so that they could play again, and as Sam smiled and laughed in her response towards the distinct six year old scribbles, I finally began to feel some of those broken pieces pulling themselves back together –
A nice reminder that maybe there would actually still be some hope left inside of us after tonight, and hopefully, for all of the nights that followed us too.