"Cancer?" she repeated, hoping she had misheard. She had to have misheard. Logan - her Logan - could not have cancer. He had stopped pacing and looked at her. "You. You can't have cancer. You're twenty-three, you're healthy, you've never had any major health problems." She took a deep breath. "So. We'll get you to the doctors. It's not like you can't afford the best in the country, you can. So we'll get you to them, and we'll get you better. You have to get better." She wrapped her arms across her stomach, then started wiping away tears.
"Hey," he said, trying to calm her down. He took her in his arms, stroking her hair. "I'll be fine," he tried reassuring her, but she knew that it was a lie. He wasn't going to be okay. He was dying. They stood there for a few more minutes until she pulled away. She looked at him as she tried to memorize his face, and he gave her a small smile.
"So, what do we do now?" she finally asked, breaking the silence between them. They both sat on the couch, and he sighed.
"I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow at Johns Hopkins. I'm stage three, so there aren't a lot of options for me, but we're gonna try and come up with a plan of some sort." He took her hands in his, thumbs running over the backs. She wasn't sure what to think. He was dying and there was nothing she could do. All of this was out of their control and it terrified her.
"What're you thinking Ace?" She shook her head, trying to gather her wandering thoughts enough to express her concerns. But all that happened were more tears. "Don't be sad, Rory. Please don't cry," he urged, wiping her tears away.
"I can't lose you, Logan." He nodded, and she knew he understood. If she was scared of losing him, surely he was scared of dying. There was no reason to not be. He just smiled before kissing her.
"You can't get rid of me that easy, Ace." After his reassurement, she was able to smile despite the brick in her stomach. They were supposed to have their whole lives ahead of them - together. She had never thought of marriage, not seriously. Could she see herself with Logan in five? Ten? Fifteen years? Of course she could, but now she'd be lucky to make it another year.
She wanted to memorize every inch of him, from the scar above his eyebrow to the scars across his stomach from his Costa Rica stunt. She wanted to know how his muscles moved, how he smiled, how he walked and talked and laughed. She knew she had it all memorized, but she had to be sure. She had to know she wasn't going to forget him.
"We'll go to my doctor's appointment, we'll get it figured out. Don't miss me when I'm still here," he said, wrapping her in his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder as she clung to him. He was there, he was still with her. She had to remember that.
That night, they were gentle, caring. She knew he was memorizing her also. She knew he was scared even if he didn't admit it. She could tell by the way he caressed her face, held her hands, kissed her softly. She could tell by the way he was gentle and soft and caring the entire time, and as they laid with each other - her head on his chest - she listened to the sound of his heart and his breathing as he drew patterns on her side.
The next morning, she was woken by Logan tossing and turning. The sheets were soaking wet, his hair drenched and the sheets were tangled around his ankles. She sat up, shaking him awake gently. His eyes shot open before he relaxed again, looking around him.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, sitting up. She saw him examine the bed, see the sheets and the layer of sweat on his skin. "Shit."
"It's okay," she assured him. "Take a shower, I'll change the sheets." He just nodded, pulling on his boxers before making his way to the bathroom. She stood, grabbing a nightgown from the dresser before stripping the bed and tossing the sheets in the hamper. For a moment, she stood standing at the hamper and all she could think about was that this was the rest of her life. She was going to be taking care of Logan, going to be changing the sheets when he soaked them, holding the bucket when he vomited. She was going to be the one person who saw what the cancer was going to do to him in its entirety and it terrified her.
She didn't know if she was strong enough to watch him waste away. She didn't know if she was going to be able to have his lawyer read his will while the room wore black. She didn't know if she was going to be able to lower a casket into the ground while his parents cried despite not caring enough to be there for him in his life. She knew it was morbid, she knew it was so far away, but it was her new reality.
She shook those thoughts from her mind before putting new sheets on the bed. Then, she sat down. Those thoughts still swirled in her head, and she wasn't sure what she was going to do with them. They were obviously there and weren't going to go away easily. She heard the shower turn off, knowing he was going to be back out momentarily. She'd bring up those concerns another day. This day was going to be his doctor's appointment, it was going to focus on him.
"You okay?" she asked as he walked back over. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked exhausted. He just nodded, laying back down. She laid with him, his arms holding her close. She felt him kiss the top of her head and she smiled.
When she woke again, it was to the alarm. He had curled onto his side and she knew he was out like a light. She turned off the alarm and stood up to get dressed. She figured it would be okay to let him sleep a little longer. She pulled on a pink blouse and a pair of jeans with some tennis shoes. When she was dressed, she gently shook him awake.
"Logan, it's time to get up," she said softly. He opened his eyes and she could tell he was exhausted. "We have to get to your appointment." She had pulled up the email from his father telling him what time the jet would leave from New Haven and when to arrive at Ronald Reagan. He sat up slowly, blinking a couple times.
"I have your bag packed, all you have to do is get dressed," she told him. He just nodded and stood up, swaying slightly.
"I'm good," he told her as she reached out to steady him. She knew she didn't need to, knew he could steady himself just fine. But she felt like she had to. She felt obliged to. And it bothered her. She knew she shouldn't feel that way, but she did.
The drive to the airport and the plane ride led up to this. They sat in the office of Dr. Max Martinez. He held onto her hand, grip tight, as they listened to Dr. Martinez go on about the options and the outcomes.
"You have what's called Stage 3 S Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Pretty much, we found the cancer in a majority of your lymph nodes and in your spleen. You do have a few different options. Obviously, chemotherapy and radiation are options. We can do a splenectomy and hope that it delays the spread of the cancer. But in all honesty, we're looking at two to three years, Mr. Huntzberger. There's only around a thirty-five percent chance of making it to the five-year mark." She took a deep breath. Two to three years? That's how long she had left with him? The next sixty years she'd planned in her head had been cut down to two or three years.
"Umm," he looked at her and she could see the fear in her eyes. She knew she was afraid, but she didn't realize until that moment how afraid he was. He was facing his mortality. He wasn't that indestructible person who had done so many crazy things. He wasn't that person who jumped off a cliff in Costa Rica, failed miserably, but survived to tell the tale. No, he was the man that was going to die before he reached thirty, before he made something of himself, before he had a true family.
"I know it's a lot to digest. I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes and I'll come back and see where we're at." Dr. Martinez left, and she looked at him.
"Logan," she said quietly. "It's going to be okay." At that point, his fear shifted into something she hated seeing.
"Okay? It's going to be okay? Rory, it's not okay!" he practically yelled. She brought both her hands to her lap. "I'm going to die, Rory, and all you can say is that it will be okay? How? How is it okay?" She took a deep breath and she saw him do the same. "I'm going to die, Ace," he said again, voice quiet. The anger that was there was now replaced by sadness. "What am I going to do?"
"You're going to fight to be that thirty five percent. You're going to fight to have the life you deserve. You're going to do everything you can to beat this." She knew it was false hope, but it was hope nonetheless. "You're going to stay as long as you can." He just nodded. She knew his mind wasn't all there and she wanted to know what he was thinking.
"I'm going to do it all. I'll do the radiation and the chemo and the surgery." Even though he was saying it, she was concerned. She didn't want him saying it just because that's what she wanted to hear. "Ace, I love you."