Part Three
Tomorrow–
The Rag and Bone Shop
"But I feel fine," he kept saying. "I feel perfectly fine."
"That's because your healthy kidney is taking over the functions of the cancerous one," Dr. Healy, the oncologist, explained solemnly. Dr. Healy was so serious. Lorelai had never seen anyone look so damn serious. "Luckily, you can survive with only one kidney. It's very likely we'll have to remove the entire right kidney, as well as the surrounding lymph nodes during surgery tomorrow."
"The lymph nodes?" Luke asked, his brow furrowed. "Is... is there cancer there too?"
Dr. Healy pursed his lips."The x-rays and the images from the CT scan you had a few days ago show spots on the lymph nodes around your kidney."
"Spots?" Luke echoed. Lorelai couldn't keep herself from imagining Luke's lymph nodes covered in little pink polka-dots, as if they had the chickenpox or the measles– just give them some soup and plenty of fluids and they'll be better in no time.
"Dark spots on the lymph nodes that show up on the x-rays can suggest that the cancer has spread," the oncologist continued. "And that's very serious. Now, we can't be certain just by looking at the x-rays if that's the case here. We'll know more after tomorrow's surgery. But... the spots could be an indication that the disease is quite advanced. We call it 'stage four', which means..." Dr. Healy folded and unfolded his hands on the desk, "...which means the cancer is untreatable. In that case, we can give you a few rounds of chemotherapy to allow you a few more months, but ultimately, there isn't anything we can do."
"But that's only if..." Luke said, his voice trailing off. Lorelai found his hand and laced her fingers through his without tearing her eyes away from the doctor.
"Yes," Dr. Healy nodded. "We can't be sure of anything until the surgery is completed. But you need to understand that, based on what we've seen in the x-rays and your blood count... it could be stage four."
"Which is... bad." Lorelai found her voice, though it was raspy and nearly a whisper. Luke's hand felt cold in hers.
"Which is bad," Dr. Healy confirmed with a nod. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this. But you need to know what the outcome of tomorrow's surgery could be."
Lorelai now understands Luke's aversion to hospitals.
She's never found them particularly frightening before– not when she'd been 16 and alone and in labor, not when her father collapsed at Christmas a few years ago. She'd been frightened then, frightened for herself or the people close to her, but not of the place itself. Today it's different. She knows it will be here, in this hospital, that they will put her boyfriend to sleep and deliver their future with a pair of surgical gloves and a scalpel. She knows that whatever happens here will determine the rest of their lives. Uncertainty has settled like ashes after a fire, making everything– the stretchers lying in the corridors, the linen carts, the cold floors, even the gowned patients sitting in the hallways, seem ominous and ugly.
The moment they entered the hospital, Lorelai had felt the hair on her arms stand up. She'd had an immediate urge to take Luke by the hand, walk back out the door, and run as fast and as far a she could.
Of course, she didn't. She did take his hand, but she quietly followed him to the information desk, where the nurse pointed them to toward the registration center. Now they are sitting side-by-side in a small room with a handful of other patients-to-be, waiting to be checked into the hospital and registered for surgery.
The sharp antiseptic smell of the hospital is making her sick to her stomach, so she holds her coffee cup up to her face and breathes in deeply. Better.
She looks over at Luke, hunched forward in the chair beside her, intently filling out a clipboard full of insurance papers. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his fingers gripping the pencil fiercely. He looks pale, and there dark circles lingering under his eyes like smudges of charcoal. She wants to reach over and wipe them away.
She has recently discovered that Panic has a voice, and if she stops to listen to it, it screams, shrill and brittle, over and over and over– 'this cannot be happening'. But it ishappening. So she ignores the scary panic-voice, and tries to concentrate on something else, on anything else– the elderly couple sitting across the room, the cheap, generic painting on the wall above the couple, the ugly orange carpet, the hangnail on her left pinkie finger. She sings the lyrics to Eternal Flame silently in her head, then moves on to Bono and The Sweetest Thing, swaying slightly, never letting her mind stop moving.
Suddenly, Lorelai hears a -snap-. Luke curses under his breath. She looks at him, alarmed, and he holds up his pencil.
"Broke the lead," he grumbles, and sighs in frustration. She lays one hand on his forearm and plies the broken pencil from his fingers with the other.
"I'll get you a new one," she says softly. She goes to the nurse at the desk on the far side of the room and exchanges the damaged pencil.
"Luke?" she asks gently when she returns, handing him the pencil and reclaiming her seat beside him. "Are you okay? Do you want me to help? I could fill something out..."
"I'm fine," he says curtly, shaking his head. "You should go get a magazine or something."
"I'm just worried about your pencil," Lorelai says, motioning to his death-grip on the writing utensil. "Wouldn't want you to decapitate another one of these guys."
Luke rolls his eyes. "Lorelai, it's fine. I've got it."
"Okay," she nods, acquiescing. "But... are you sure you're okay?"
"Positive. I just... the forms... I need to, you know, concentrate." He points to the clipboard, then ducks his head and goes back to filling out the papers, effectively shutting her out.
Lorelai taps her fingers on her knees and looks around the room again. A woman about her own age is standing at the desk, being handed the bundle of insurance forms. She is carrying a baby in her arms and a huge diaper bag on her shoulder.
The woman takes the seat next to Lorelai, balancing the baby on her shoulder and the clipboard in her lap. Lorelai smiles politely at the woman when she looks over. Lorelai knows even before she looks closely at the baby that there is something wrong with it. She sees it in the woman's overly bright eyes and watery smile. She recognizes the look. It's the same one she saw when she looked in the mirror this morning. She suddenly feels an odd, sympathetic connection with the woman– the affinity of strangers huddling in a doorway during a sudden downpour.
When she notices that the mother is struggling to fill out the insurance forms while holding the baby, Lorelai offers to take the child.
The woman smiles gratefully. "That would be great, thank you."
"No problem," Lorelai says, lifting the baby onto her lap. "What's her name?"
"Abby," the mother says. "And I'm Caroline."
"Nice to meet you," Lorelai says absently, finding herself very suddenly absorbed with the child in her arms. "Abby," she whispers to the baby. "Hi Abby."
The girl is about six months old, dressed in pink overalls with purple sneakers on her tiny feet. She grins up at Lorelai, clumsily patting at her with chubby fingers. The baby's face is slightly puffy, rounder than a normal child's, and when she looks closely, Lorelai notices a yellowish cast to her skin.
When the baby starts to fuss, Lorelai lifts her up to her shoulder. Abby immediately grabs a handful of her hair, gurgling happily. Instead of untangling herself, Lorelai reaches up and strokes the tiny, soft fist. The baby smells so good. She remembers when Rory was this small, and feels another stab of sympathy for the woman sitting beside her.
Lorelai turns toward Luke, and is surprised to see him already looking at her, and at the baby in her arms. Their eyes meet, and she smiles slightly.
"Her name is Abby," she tells him softly.
"She's pretty," he says, and his voice sounds strange– raspy and quiet, his expression unreadable. He stares for a moment longer, then goes back to his forms.
A nurse comes up to her then, smiling animatedly. "Abby and Caroline Greenleigh?" she asks Lorelai.
Lorelai shakes her head quickly. "Oh, no. Well, I mean, this is Abby but I'm not–"
"I'm Caroline Greenleigh," the mother says. "Are they ready for us?"
The nurse replies in the affirmative and bends down to fasten a hospital bracelet around the baby's tiny wrist. Caroline hands the nurse her clipboard and takes the baby from Lorelai's arms, thanking her and flashing that same shaky smile. She stands, picks up the diaper bag, and then she and Abby are gone.
It isn't long before the same nurse comes to get Luke. She helps him fasten a much bigger bracelet on his wrist, and they follow her through a maze of doors and corridors.
"If you'll come with me, Mr. Danes, we'll get you changed into a gown and then we'll be able to prep you for surgery," she says when they finally stop outside of a room with a closed wooden door. "Mrs. Danes," she addresses Lorelai, "you'll have to wait out here for a few minutes."
Lorelai skips right over the inaccurate title, suddenly seized with panic at the thought of Luke having to go in there all alone. "I can't come in?"
"No, I'm sorry," the nurse says.
"But I'll be quiet. Like, Teller-from-Penn-and-Teller-quiet. You won't even know I'm there."
"I'm sorry," the nurse repeats.
"But–" Before she can articulate her protest, Luke has her by the elbow and is leading her down the hall.
"What's the matter with you?" he asks sharply, when they are out of earshot from the nurse. "Why can't you just wait out here for a few minutes?"
"Sorry, Luke," she softly. She hadn't realized she was embarrassing him. "I just thought you'd want some company."
"Jesus, Lorelai," he snaps, his voice harsh. "I'm a grown man, for God's sake. I don't need you to hold my hand!"
She takes a small step back. His words sting like a slap. Luke's eyes widen, and she watches a look of shame settle over his features. For a long moment, they can only stare at each other. She has absolutely no idea what to say.
Luke's shoulders slump forward, his gaze falling to the floor. And then he's stepping toward her, his arms encircling her shoulders, pulling her into him. Lorelai's breath leaves her lungs on a sigh, and she presses her face into his chest. His arms feel solid and strong around her torso, his large hand gently holding her head to his shoulder. For a few seconds her whole world is the soft feel of his flannel against her cheek, the solid plane of his chest under the worn material, the swell of his ribcage as he breathes in, his good Luke-smell erasing the horrible smells of the hospital.
It only lasts a moment– there are people around and he pulls away after a few seconds, but it is long enough to reassure her that he's not going to disappear forever if he follows the nurse into the next room.
She waits alone in the hall while Luke is prepped for surgery. But it isn't long before she hears "Mom!" and turns to see Rory coming toward her.
"Hey, kid." Lorelai grins and wraps her arms around her when they meet. She doesn't think she has ever been so happy to see her daughter. "How did you know where to find me?"
"An intern showed me," Rory explains. "Where's Luke?"
Lorelai points to the wooden door. "In there, getting sterilized."
Rory's eyes widen. "What!"
"Oh, no," Lorelai shakes her head, smirking. "Not in the please-spay-and-neuter-your-pet way. In the let's-make-you-clean-enough-to-eat-off-of way." She suddenly notices Rory's lack of large, board-game sized bags. "Hey, where's the Parcheesi?" She asks. They make their way to a couple of chairs sitting against the wall, and sit side-by-side.
"I already stashed it in the waiting room on the surgical floor."
"The waiting room? How did you find that so fast?"
"The intern showed me."
"The intern, huh?" Lorelai narrows her eyes in mock-suspicion. "Was this by any chance a young, male-type intern?"
"It may have been," Rory grins, ducking her head. Then her expression grows serious. "How's Luke?"
Lorelai shrugs heavily. "I can't really tell. He's nervous, I'm sure. But you know Luke– Mr. Monosyllable. He isn't saying much."
"Do you think I'll be able to see him before the surgery? I just wanna... you know, wish him good luck."
"That's a great idea, kid," Lorelai nods, putting her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "I think he'd appreciate that."
An hour later, Lorelai stands in a corridor on the surgical floor, a few yards down from Luke's room. She is giving Rory her few minutes alone with him before they wheel him away to the O.R. She finishes off a large styrofoam cup of coffee, tosses it into a nearby trash can, and leans back until she can feel the solidness of the wall behind her.
The surgeon has been in to explain the procedure for the final time. They've shaved his chest, and inserted an IV into his hand. In only a few minutes, he'll be in surgery. Lorelai feels like it's happening way too fast. She remembers the way she used to stop her bicycle from flying too quickly down a hill as a child by sticking out her feet and letting the strong rubber soles of her sneakers scrape over the pavement. She wishes like hell that she hadn't worn her flimsy ballet flats today.
Rory steps out of the room then, and she looks like she's been sucker-punched– her brow furrowed, her lips pursed tightly. She makes her way toward her mother, slender fingers clutching her purse to her belly like a precious thing. Lorelai reaches out, rubbing her daughter's shoulders gently.
"You okay, kid?"
Rory nods silently, her eyes wide and bright. She bites her lip and looks down at the tiled floor. When she finally meets Lorelai's eyes, her face crumbles, and she shakes her head.
"It's just..." she chokes, "he looked so..." She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head, sighing shakily. "It's Luke, Mom."
Lorelai nods, pulling Rory close, hugging her tightly. "I know," she says soothingly, smoothing a hand over her back. "But he's gonna be fine, hon." She pulls back after a beat, kissing her daughter's forehead. "I've gotta go in there, before they... take him." She clears her throat. "Meet me in the waiting room?"
Rory nods, wipes the wetness from her face. "Sorry."
Lorelai takes her hand, squeezes it tightly. "I know what he means to you, babe."
Rory's eyes widen suddenly. "Does he know? I hope he does. Oh God, I should have told him, I should have been more clear. I have to go back in there..." She moves to pull away, to turn around and go back into the room, but Lorelai grips her hand, rooting her in place.
"Hey." Her voice is gentle, but firm. "He knows."
Lorelai knows how upset Luke would be if Rory came in weeping and distraught, and how much more upset Rory would be to see Luke upset. She's going to keep everyone calm, she decides. There will be no freaking out under her watch. That's how they'll get through the day. Absolutely no freaking out.
Rory nods again, and sighs heavily. "I'll be in the waiting room."
Lorelai manages a weak smile, bending to kiss her daughter's head again, before she steps past her and walks down the hall to the room Luke is in. She takes big strides, keeps her shoulders back, her head high. She blinks away the brightness in her eyes. Bracing herself.
The nurse, a young, round-faced woman with a bouncing blonde ponytail, is leaving Luke's room as Lorelai approaches. "I've just given him a light sedative, so he might be a little drowsy," she explains before Lorelai walks through the door. "I'll give you two a few minutes before we come to take him to the O.R."
Lorelai thanks her and steps into the small room. Luke is lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, his hands in loose fists at his sides. Seeing his large, solid frame lying in the narrow bed makes her stomach flip unpleasantly. The hospital gown he's wearing looks so odd in place of his usual flannel. She tries not to focus on the IV needle protruding from the top of his hand.
"The nurse said she gave you a shot," she smirks, sitting in the chair beside the bed. "How do you feel? Loopy?"
"Nah." He shakes his head. "Not really." His hands knead the sheet slightly, twisting it between his fingers. He looks uncomfortable and embarrassed, and Lorelai aches with the heavy feeling of helplessness. She can't seem to stop her knees from shaking, her toes from tapping rhythmically on the floor. He notices.
"How much coffee have you had this morning?"
She shakes her head, feigning innocence. "Not that much."
He sighs, in the way she's heard a thousand times from across the diner counter, in the way she knows is an act, his favorite way to tease her. "More or less than three cups?"
"More," she admits.
Luke shakes his head in mock-disgust. "You know, that stuff'll kill you."
They are both utterly silent for one taut moment. She knows he was trying to lighten the mood, but she feels as if someone is sitting on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs. She racks her brain for something good to say, something right and witty, something that will make this all better.
"I've got a new plan," she finally says. "The moment you get out of here, you're going on The Lorelai Diet. Nothing but burgers and ice cream, and absolutely no vegetables of any kind. You'll be as healthy as a horse in no time."
"Hey, I'll try anything once," he says, slurring slightly.
She grins suggestively. "Well I know that."
"Huh," he huffs softly, his lips turning up in a small smile. His eyes are glassy from the sedative. "Remember that time we fell off the bed?"
"Hell yeah," she nods, and smiles back. "My butt hurts just thinking about it. Definitely not one of our most graceful moments."
Luke closes his eyes. He is quiet for a few seconds. Then his shoulders start to shake.
Lorelai's chest constricts with panic, thinking he's crying. She touches his arm, her hand shaking slightly. Then she hears the chuckles.
He's laughing.
"Whoa there, buster," she says, amused and concerned and relieved. "I think those drugs are stronger than you thought."
He just keeps chortling, reaching up to wipe an errant tear from the corner of his eye.
Luke's laughter is rare and endearing and incredibly contagious, and Lorelai soon finds herself giggling along with him. Her lack of sleep, Luke's sedative, and the tension coiled tightly in both of them is a ripe combination, and within seconds they are guffawing madly.
The sound of their laughter fills the tiny room, expanding and growing, pushing at the too-sharp corners of the hard, white walls, until, finally, it recedes, falling away in increments. They are left giggling softly, curiously sated.
Lorelai feels half-crazy from the laughing, like she is light and floating, so much of the darkness and heaviness having drifted away with their giggles. It all feels very surreal to her for a moment, like maybe they aren't really here, and Luke isn't really sick, and cancer is something that happens to other people.
She smiles down at Luke, and he grins back. And then his face grows serious and he says something that brings her crashing right back down to earth, to this room, to this very real moment:
"I'm glad it's me and not you."
She doesn't know how to respond to that without bursting into tears or screaming at the top of her lungs. So she just takes his hand and swallows hard against the pesky lump in her throat. He closes his eyes, seeming to sink deeper into the pillow under his head.
The nurse comes in then, followed by two orderlies. "Mr. Danes?" she smiles sweetly. "We're going to take you to the O.R. now."
Lorelai stands, sudden panic blooming in her chest. She turns to Luke. "You okay? You ready?" Her voice comes out all shaky and high-pitched.
He nods. Sighs. "Just wanna get it over with."
Her trepidation must be obvious, because the nurse smiles reassuringly. "Don't worry," she says. "He's in good hands. Do you have any last questions?"
They both shake their heads.
Lorelai leans over and kisses his mouth. She squeezes his hand, and really, really doesn't want to let go, but the orderlies flip the brakes on the small bed and begin to roll it toward the door. She manages to keep hold of his hand all the way down the hall, but eventually, the nurse points to a sign on a pair of big blue doors marked 'OR'. "Sorry, hon. This is as far as you can go."
Lorelai looks at Luke, her heart thrumming loudly in her ears. He doesn't look very nervous at all, just a little sleepy. She's suddenly very glad for the sedative they gave him, and wishes she had one for herself.
"Go play Parcheesi," he murmurs, gripping her hand once.
Lorelai nods. She wants to tell him she loves him, feels the words under her tongue. But she has the sudden notion that there is something about 'I love you' that can sound a lot like 'goodbye.'
"I'll be here," she says instead. And then he's gone, disappeared behind the big blue doors.