Chapter 56
In the burning of uncertainty
I will be your solid ground
Hunched over her desk and in deep concentration on the journal article in front of her, Robin nearly jumped out of her skin as her watch vibrated against her wrist. Straightening up, she rubbed the stiffness from her neck and yawned as she slid from her stool. Taking a second glance at her watch, she shook her head as she realized how long she had been reading and then sighed in frustration at not being any closer to a solution.
Their remaining time in Scotland had been quiet and had affected them in two ways. The first was that with one more wall down between them, she – they – felt closer to each other than ever before. They had explored Edinburgh and even took a trip to the Highlands to visit a single malt distillery. They had made love and reaffirmed their feelings for each other and Robin came home more secure in her relationship than she had ever been.
The second was that Robin was bound and determined to find some kind of alternative treatment for him. If she couldn't find anything to reduce the size of the tumour and hopefully ward off the surgery then at least she was going to find a way to treat his symptoms. He was in pain and she wanted to – needed to – stop it. They had been back four days and his radiation treatments had begun in earnest. She had already seen him wincing when he ate, no doubt the food irritating whatever sores the radiation was producing. He was still struggling with his temper as well. Patience was in short supply for him and he would snap at people, almost without provocation. Realizing the impact of his behaviour could leave him feeling low for hours afterwards.
That this was happening to him made her angry. Furious even. She hated his tumour – hated it. Where she was positive at first, believing they just needed to face it one step at a time, one battle at a time, now it was feeling intensely personal. It felt like his tumour was trying to steal him from her and if it wanted a fight, it was going to get one. She had waited a lifetime for a love like Patrick's and she wasn't about to sit idly by and let it slip away.
Pulling her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, she fished around before finally put her hand on her pill box. Having retrieved it from the depths of her handbag, she placed it on the desk before heading to her little refrigerator and taking out a bottle of cranberry juice.
Popping the lid off, she walked back to her desk, rolling the kinks from her shoulders and sat down. Reaching for the pill box, she flipped the lid open and looking down to take out her protocol she froze.
No.
This couldn't be happening.
This never happens.
She stared, open mouthed, at her pill box. There were too many pills in it. There were enough for two doses, not one and if that was the case, then she had missed a dose. As her knees trembled, she sank to her stool and cradled her head in her hands.
Clenching her eyes shut she did her best to visualize her steps from that morning. She could see the hot and heavy make out session she had enjoyed before hopping into the shower; she saw breakfast and filling her travel mug with coffee; she remembered shrugging on her new grey winter coat and heading out the door. No matter how many times she replayed the scenes in her head, she could not see herself taking her morning protocol.
In the more than ten years since she first started on anti-retroviral medication she had never missed a dose. It hadn't mattered if she was travelling, had the flu or studying all night long – her protocol was a non-negotiable. She stared back at the pill box and shook her head.
How could she be so careless?
She could never let this happen again. If she were going to help Patrick, she needed to make sure she was healthy enough to do so. Fingering the pills, she sighed as she brought them, one by one, to her lips. Her stomach was not going to be pleased with the double dose.
Swallowing down the last of both her juice and her pills, she blew out her cheeks in frustration. Nothing was going her way. Picking up the journal she had been reading, she hurled it across the room, pleased at the satisfying thud it made as it hit the ground.
"What did that poor journal ever do to you?"
Jumping at the sound of the voice invading her thoughts, Robin spun around and gave a weak smile as she Noah filling her door way.
"It wasn't telling me what I wanted," she grumbled half heartedly.
"Oh?" he asked coming through the door. "What is it you want to know?"
Shrugging, Robin gave a small smile. "Just doing some research."
Walking over to the far end of the room, he picked up the discarded journal and flipped it over to the cover. Reading the index, he sighed quietly and looked back at his son's girlfriend.
"Trying to find a solution for Patrick."
"Something like that."
"How was Scotland?"
She knew immediately by the tone of his voice what he was searching for.
"Patrick had a seizure – a bad one."
Pursing his lips together, much as his son would often do, he nodded. "That must have been hard."
Fishing an elastic from her desk, Robin pulled her hair from her neck up into a ponytail. "He was exhausted after it – and he bit his tongue."
"I meant for you" he gently corrected. "I meant it must have been hard for you to see that."
Her cheeks flushed slightly and she dropped her gaze. "I was….I was scared for him. And he took it so badly afterwards. He was angry and defensive and embarrassed at what had happened."
"All pretty normal reactions. Patrick is nothing if not a prideful person and he would hate for anyone to see him like that. He was furious when I found him having a seizure and I changed his diapers as a baby. I would imagine he was very disconcerted that you witnessed it."
Sensing an open, Robin decided that if she couldn't get answers from her medical research, she would get other ones. "Did Mattie have seizures?"
Perching himself on the edge of a desk, he gave her a curious look. "Yes" he answered cautiously.
"Were they bad?"
He sucked in his lower lip and chewed on it for several seconds before answering. He had not widely shared – or shared at all – the circumstances of Mattie's illness. He had told no one of the violent outbursts or how he would stay up for nights on end when her seizures were particularly bad, afraid she would choke in the middle of the night.
"At the end, yes."
"Did Patrick know this?"
His green eyes widened in surprise and he thought carefully before replying. "He's a neurologist Robin. He is well aware of meningioma and the side effects that manifest as a result."
"No" she answered quickly. "Not then – then he was a terrified 17 year old boy. Did he know how bad it was with his mother?"
Folding his arms across his chest, he studying the young researcher wondering exactly what she was trying to get at.
"He knew it was bad – he knew that his mother could not feed herself at the end nor care for herself in any meaningful way. He knew. Why do you ask?"
"Because I think Patrick has an idea in his head about how his mother handled this and he's trying to live up to that."
Feeling as though she was on uneven ground, she stepped carefully as she continued. "Have you guys ever…you know…talked about it?"
Noah stiffened subtly and swallowed thickly. "Robin, you already know the answer to that question. I was drunk for a decade – the only time we talked was when I was apologizing to him for failing and promising to get clean, yet again."
She swept her bangs from her eyes and held his gaze. "What about now? Would you consider telling him how much trouble Mattie had?"
"To what end?" he asked tightly, the muscle in his cheek throbbing as he did so. "The only thing Patrick has left of his mother is his memories. He has good memories of her and I have zero desire to rehash a very painful period with him."
"Noah, it would let him off the hook. He would know that his mother suffered too, that she-"
"He knew she suffered" he interjected. "He knew and I don't think he would appreciate me reminding him."
Taking in a slow breath, Robin tried to steady herself. "He's holding himself to an impossible standard. He thinks he needs to as graceful as his mother was. If he knew that she wasn't – if he knew that she had a hard time…" Her voice trailed off as she saw him rise to his feet.
He looked at her with a mixture of anger and coldness. "His mother was graceful. Even in the middle of all the crap she was still Mattie. She was still the woman I loved and the mother of my son. Don't think I don't know what you are trying to do here Robin. You feel the pressure building up – in both of you. You want to do anything you can to relieve at least part of it and you can't find a medical solution. It's becoming harder to watch him take the radiation – you see the weight dropping on him, the lethargy setting in and you want to fix it. The thing is Robin, there is no fixing it. Despite my colossal fuck up in the OR with my wife – I am an expert in this field and I know without a shadow of a doubt that he is going to need surgery. And it scares me to death. But bursting whatever bubble he has left regarding his mother is neither going to make him feel better nor alter the course he's on."
Anger dripped from every word and though she had been on the receiving end of his anger before, this was still a surprise. She had clearly underestimated how deep the wounds still ran. However, her first and only concern was her boyfriend and Noah's diatribe aside, she still felt that he would find some comfort in knowing his mother's perfection was an illusion and not reality.
"We are all scared to death Noah" she started carefully. "You, me and most of all Patrick. He is afraid he is going to die just like his mother did and somehow he's got it in his head that he needs to rise to this ridiculous standard that has become the myth of Mattie Drake. The seizures, the outbursts, the failing appetite – he won't allow them to just happen in case he doesn't do it as well as he believes his mother did. The thing is, Mattie didn't do it that well and you letting him believe otherwise is unfair and cruel."
Noah jammed his trembling hands into his pockets. "I am glad my son has someone like you in his corner; someone who loves him and fights for him," he said softly, "Robin you are truly an extraordinary person but that doesn't give you carte blanche to drag up a history you know little about. And I'll thank you to leave it alone."
Turning on his heel, he headed out the door.
Covering her face with her hands, Robin screamed in frustration. Walking back to her desk, she picked up her phone and punched out the number. When you loved someone as much as she loved Patrick, giving up simply was not an option. And if Noah wouldn't or couldn't help, then she would find someone who could.
Having made her call, she flopped on to her couch in exhaustion. Her stomach churned and bile rose in her throat. The double dose of her drugs was making itself known. Feeling another wave of nausea hit her, she dipped her head between her knees trying to ward it off.
With a jolt she sat upright and sprinted for her garbage can. Dropping to her knees, she gripped the sides and vomited. Clammy and with stars dotting her field of vision, she let out one shaky breath after another waiting for it to pass.
She had no idea how long she had been sitting on the floor but she recognized the hand on her back instantly. From the moment they had met, he always had a knack of showing up when she needed him.
"Patrick?" Turning her head, she saw him crouched down beside her, concern etched all over his face.
"What's going on?" he asked softly, brushing her damp hair from her forehead.
"Bad sushi I think" she covered quickly. He did not need to know she missed a dose.
He smiled warmly at her as his hand continued to move in small circles against her back, warming her. "My poor baby"
She leaned in to him and rested her head on his shoulder. "What are you doing here? Did something happen?"
He dropped a kiss against her forehead. "I came to see if you wanted to take your break with me – I'm very bored with so little to do – and I found you here on the ground vomiting."
"It's been a bit of a day" she admitted.
"Yeah?"
She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. "I..uh…I'm struggling with a…uh…research problem and the solutions aren't as obvious as I thought they would be."
"I'm sorry" he told her quietly. Seeing her eyes heavy with fatigue, he sighed silently. The toll of it all was beginning to show on her face and that ripped at him. "How about I take you home and we just hang out on the couch until your bad sushi passes?"
"That sounds really good right about now" she replied hoarsely.
He pulled her to her feet and moved to collect her things when she tugged him back towards her.
"You….you mean everything to me."
He swiped at the tear pooling just under her stubby black eyelashes and softly kissed her cheek. "You too."