Chapter 64

During the radiation Emma kept her eyes closed. It was not really uncomfortable, rather the opposite. They always made her as comfortable as possible on the treatment table. But the fact that she couldn't move her head and the mask pressed against her face made her feel trapped.

"Are you okay, Emma?" the radiation specialist's voice, distorted through the loudspeaker, came through.

"Sure," she replied, taking a deep breath.

Once again, the intercom button was pressed and the static crackle sounded through the room before the doctor's words could be heard. "We'll be done in a minute."

Emma wanted to nod, but was unable to, so she simply didn't reply at all. She was glad that she only got the radiation today and could go home afterwards. On the days she received both radiation and chemotherapy, she barely felt human. Even though it had been less than a week of being shuttled back and forth every day, she already felt like she was part of 'Groundhog Day.' And as if all of this wasn't bad enough, Henry was withdrawing from her more with each passing day. The thought almost brought tears to her eyes, but she swallowed them frantically. In essence, she was glad that he was cutting himself off from her, perhaps protecting himself from serious psychological damage, but she missed his optimism and perpetual smile, no matter how bad she was feeling.

"There, that's it. The car is waiting," the doctor told her as she removed her mask and gave her a smile.

"Great," Emma replied tonelessly, waiting for the nurse to come to her to help her up. She was so used to it by now that she wasn't even ashamed of needing help. As soon as she was in her wheelchair, she pulled her beanie on her head and then dropped her hands back into her lap. She knew she was depressed, but right now it felt less like a burden and more like a gift. It was thanks to her lethargy that she didn't worry about how low she had sunk. She didn't care that the nurse was pushing her through the building and everyone seemed to be staring at her. She didn't care that the drivers were touching her in places she would have given fist bumps for in the past as they transferred her to the gurney and tightened the straps that were supposed to make sure she survived the car ride well secured. When asked if she was okay, she just nodded her head noncommittally without looking at the person who had asked the question.

Archie had been to their home a few days earlier and had talked to her at length. Finally, he had suggested they consult with her psychotherapists from the clinic, who had then agreed with her to increase the doses of citalopram and pregabalin and wait to see how she would respond.

"Do you want to lie down?"

Surprised to hear Regina's voice, Emma emerged from her thoughts to find that she was already back home. "I don't care," she mumbled indifferently, whereupon the drivers took her to the living room and put her in her bed, as they did most days. No sooner had they said goodbye than Emma wrapped her arms around her torso and turned her face to the wall. As soft, cautious footsteps approached, she knew immediately that it was Regina.

Gently, she pulled the covers over Emma and then took a seat on the edge of the bed, from where she eyed Emma for a while. "Lousy day?"

"Lousy year," she replied without turning toward her.

"Are you in pain?"

"Will you leave me alone for a bit?" she asked in place of an answer. She hated to offend her, but she didn't want to have to talk or listen at the moment.

A hesitant pause arose before Regina nodded and stood up again. "Yes, of course. Just call if you need anything." Although Emma didn't respond, she knew she had heard her, so she left the living room. As she stood somewhat lost in the foyer, her eyes went up the stairs to Henry's closed bedroom door. While Emma insisted that she was fine with him not being with her and witnessing her physical deterioration, she knew exactly how much it bothered her girlfriend that her son was turning his back on her. Certainly she did not want her to bring it up to him, but her despair was also great and she feared that her whole family was falling apart. A little hesitantly at first, but finally with a determined step, she therefore climbed the stairs shortly afterwards and knocked on Henry's door.

Behind the door, there was the rustling of notes and a little banging before Henry's voice called out, "Come in!"

Regina poked her head through the crack in the door and let her eyes wander searchingly around the room until she spotted Henry on his bed.

He was lying on his back, one leg tucked up, the other across it, holding his Nintendo. "Hey, Mom," he greeted her, trying for a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Hi, Henry," Regina returned the greeting, but again let her gaze roam the room. "May I come in?"

"Sure," he nodded, setting the console aside and rising to his feet so that he was sitting cross-legged. "Everything okay with Emma?"

"Yeah, she... Well, she's exhausted. Understandably so," she nodded and took a seat next to him. "What have you been up to?"

"Just playing a little," he said quickly.

Regina raised her brows in surprise. "Henry Daniel Mills, I may not be Emma, but you weren't much of a good liar when you were a little kid, and that hasn't changed," she stated in a casual, non-accusatory tone. "You can tell me anything, Henry. You know that."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, lowering his gaze to his fingers knotted in his lap.

"Is this... about Emma?" she began hesitantly. "She's noticed that you're withdrawing from her. Look, she thinks it's okay. If it was stressing you out so much to see her like that, you could have told us. It's a perfectly normal reaction."

"What? No!", Henry interrupted her immediately, his eyes wide with horror. "Did she say that to you? That she thinks I don't want to be with her anymore?"

"She... yes, she did. But like I said, she thinks your reaction is normal and would never reproach you for it," she tried to reassure him.

Shaking his head, Henry slid to the edge of the bed and stood up. "But that's not true! I didn't withdraw from her because I can't stand her illness," he clarified. He took a deep breath and his shoulders slumped as he realized that his mother wasn't going to let up until this conversation was to her satisfaction. "I withdrew," he finally continued quietly, sinking into his desk chair. "But not for the reason you assumed. I... I was so ashamed."

Comprehension less, Regina looked at her son. "Ashamed? Ashamed of what?"

"For days I've been sitting at my desk staring at the blank pages of paper in front of me." He pushed aside some of his schoolbooks until the black quill with the shiny end appeared, which he picked up almost reverently and eyed from all sides.

"The author's pen," Regina noted.

"I was going to... I was going to write Emma back to health. I wanted to so badly, but then I just couldn't do it," he stammered desperately.

"And that's the right thing to do," Regina soothed him, stepping up beside him to gently put an arm around his shoulders. "You mustn't change the story, you must only write it down."

"I know. That's what's been stopping me, but... it feels so shitty," he sniffled. "Like this stupid rule is more important to me than Emma's life."

"Henry... It's not like that at all," she tried to reassure him, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I'm so ashamed of myself. That's why I can hardly face Emma anymore. I have this power, but I don't use it to save her."

Her face contorted with sadness, Regina hugged her son tightly and leaned her head against his. "You've made yourself so crazy completely unnecessarily. Neither Emma nor I would expect you to fix everything this way. And to be honest, I doubt it would work either. The feather may be powerful, but it also doesn't have the power to bring someone back from the dead. Curing deadly diseases certainly falls into the same category."

Henry sniffled, but bravely held back tears. "It feels like I'm letting her down," he admitted quietly, hanging his head after carefully releasing himself from the embrace.

"You don't," Regina said softly, stroking his cheek. "And I think the best way to show her that is by spending more time with her again. As long as you want to do that yourself, not because I said so."

"I didn't mean to turn my back on her," he repeated sadly.

"I know, honey," Regina nodded and sighed. "This isn't easy at all, but as a family, we'll get through it."

When the doorbell rang unexpectedly later that afternoon, Regina hurried to open it quickly before another ring could wake Emma. "Loraine?!" she said surprised as the older woman stood smiling before her on the porch.

"Hello, Regina. I'm sorry to show up here so surprisingly. I was out for a walk and in the neighborhood anyway, so I thought I'd stop by. Of course, if it's inappropriate, you can tell me honestly," she explained.

Shaking her head, Regina stepped aside to let her in. "No, it's not inappropriate at all. It's just... Emma is... Let's just say she's far from comfortable."

Loraine nodded in understanding, while her blue eyes eyed Regina sadly. "She texted me about the new treatments. No one would feel comfortable receiving them."

"Yes, that's true. But she's in quite a hole mentally too, I... wish I could help her," she admitted, taking her coat from her to hang it. "She's in the living room, she was asleep earlier when I checked on her."

Nodding, Loraine thanked Regina and then went into the adjoining room.

Emma had been awakened by the ringing of the doorbell and was staring listlessly at the ceiling. Neither did she have the energy to get up, nor did she want to lie around any longer. It was a vicious circle.

"Hello, Emma," Loraine greeted her friend quietly and stepped closer to her.

Somewhat surprised, but without her features reflecting it, she turned to the visitor. "Hi," she replied curtly, eyeing Loraine. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," she explained with a shrug, letting her gaze wander over the wheelchair, the nursing bed, and Emma's fragile, pale figure with the casted arm in it.

Emma snorted a short bitter laugh and looked her in the eye. "Yes, things have changed since we last saw each other," she nodded, before taking a deep breath and looking toward the chair. "You're welcome to sit down... if you really want to ruin your day with my company."

So Loraine took a seat and turned the armchair so she could look at Emma comfortably. "I don't think your company could spoil my day."

"Possibly in the past that was true. I'm not the one you got to know anymore," Emma murmured.

"When you told me about the treatments... I admire you for putting up with it all so uncomplainingly and always fighting on," she said honestly.

Emma was silent for quite a while before her facade of bitterness cracked and tears welled up in her eyes. "It all feels so pointless to me," she whispered chokingly. "It feels like I'm just delaying the inevitable."

Understanding, Loraine nodded. "What do the doctors say?"

"They say I should think positively, but at the same time they've made it clear that I'm more likely not seeing my next birthday," she countered. "Henry has turned his back on me, and I had thought he was doing that out of self-protection. Instead, he came to me earlier and explained that he didn't want to face me again out of shame. Because he can't help me. It's all so unfair. Everyone here only cares about my well-being and they don't even realize that they are completely forgetting their own in the process. Sometimes I want to stop the therapies just so they can finally breathe again," she admitted. She had no one but Loraine to whom she would say this so honestly. She was the only person who could somehow understand this.

"And what do you want?" Loraine asked.

Questioningly, Emma looked at her.

"You basically just said that you would die so that they would be okay," she summarized Emma's words. "But what do you want for yourself? Do you want to live or die? Do you want to keep fighting or give up?"

Emma looked into her eyes and sighed, "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

Silence remained in the room for a while as Emma pondered her friend's words and she waited patiently for her answer. "I want to live," Emma finally said quietly. "And I want to fight."

Loraine nodded. "And that's exactly what you're doing. Emma, you wouldn't be going through this if you didn't want to yourself. Your family is a reason, it's true. A very good one, even. But your inner attitude also contributes a lot to how well or poorly you tolerate the therapies."

"Sure," Emma admitted. "I just wish they understood that I can only take this so far. I can't and won't go on forever. If my condition continues to deteriorate, I don't know how I'll react."

"No one can predict that, and I also really hope you never get to that point."

"What was the trigger for you to stop chemo?", Emma then wanted to know.

Loraine smiled sadly before shrugging her shoulders. "The lack of perspective, I guess. When everyone tells you that you're not going to get better, but you're going to stay stable at some level, you're relieved at first. But eventually you realize that that stable level isn't enough for you. What's the point of living a few more years if it's really just survival? Chemo may have kept me stable and if I had a family, it would be a small price to pay to stay with them, but like this? What do I get out of sitting alone in my apartment for years to come, exhausted and in pain? I'd rather have a few more really good months and then just call it a day."

Listening intently, Emma ran a hand over her eyes. "You make it sound so easy," she noted.

"As a matter of fact, it is. That's because I'm alone. You, on the other hand, have people who love you, and that will always help guide your decisions. And that's a good thing."

"How are you doing now? It's been almost three months without treatment," Emma noted.

"I haven't been this well in a long time," she replied with a smile, moving the chair closer to Emma's bed and stroking her upper arm, which was free of the cast. "And you'll get better, too."

"Can you maybe see the future or something?" she wanted to know, grinning wryly.

Loraine shrugged and gave her a soft smile. "I just know you're a fighter and won't settle for defeat."

Emma struggled to return her smile before she groaned and struggled to get upright. "I'm a terrible hostess. Do you want something to drink?"

"Thanks, that's not necessary," Loraine declined.

"No, come on. Drinking is important, have you forgotten everything they drilled into us?" she teased her.

"It's really all right," Loraine assured her, but by then Emma was already calling for Regina, who appeared in the living room a moment later.

"Are you all right?" she wanted to know, looking back and forth between the two women.

Emma nodded and looked to Loraine. "Could you please bring Loraine something to drink?" she asked her girlfriend.

Regina was at first merely taken aback by how agile and talkative Emma suddenly was. Loraine seemed to have actually succeeded in pulling her at least a little out of her depressive abyss. "Of course. What can I get you?"

"I told Emma I didn't need anything, but she insisted," the older woman immediately explained. "A glass of water would be nice."

Emma shrugged her shoulders. "You guys make me eat and drink all the time, too. For once, let me have the pleasure of paying you back."

Shaking her head, Regina left the room with a grin on her lips and returned a moment later with two cups of water, one of which she handed to Loraine and the other to Emma. "Here you go. As you so beautifully put it just now: You too must drink."

Rolling her eyes, Emma took the cup from her and took a few sips before setting it down on the small table next to her bed. "Hey, can you do me another favor?" she then addressed Regina again.

Expectantly, the brunette stopped and looked at Emma.

"Can you help me get on the sofa?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, sure," Regina nodded, still struggling with Emma's mood swings. Of course, she was glad that she was no longer just moving back and forth between the ambulance driver's gurney, the nursing bed, and occasionally her wheelchair, but after being so listless after noon, it was a real shock to see how motivated she suddenly was. Carefully, Regina helped her to the edge of the bed and wanted to pull the wheelchair closer, but Emma held her back by the arm.

"I can manage those few steps," she assured her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

For a few seconds they looked into each other's eyes before Regina nodded and helped her up.

Emma's knees were shaking from the sudden unaccustomed strain, but with her good arm around Regina's shoulders and her arm around her waist, she made it over to the sofa with slow steps. "Thank you," she whispered, holding Regina's hand for a moment longer as she looked up at her.

"You're welcome," Regina replied, setting her water cup down on the coffee table in front of her. "Loraine, do you have plans yet, or would you like to join us for dinner?"

"Plans, no... But you don't have to bother."

"Oh, come on now. No one is waiting for you at home," Emma interposed. "I'd be happy if you stayed."

Almost pleadingly, Regina looked at Loraine; she had a faint hope that Emma would eat more if she were there.

"All right, then. Thanks for inviting me," she finally agreed, smiling at them both.

Emma grinned, and it didn't take much for her to have triumphantly raised her fist in the air as if she were a small child who had persuaded the visitor to stay a little longer.

"But then I will at least help you in the kitchen," Loraine said, rising from the armchair.

"That's really not necessary," Regina declared in response.

Loraine, however, shook her head. "I know it's not, but I want to help. It's the least I can do, since I'm already intruding on your evening program."

Regina smirked and crossed her arms in front of her chest, "Alright, thanks. Emma, are you okay for now?"

The young woman nodded and slumped against the back of the comfortable sofa. "I am," she confirmed.

"How did you manage that?", Regina wanted to know as soon as they reached the kitchen. "You should have seen her at noon today!"

"Is she getting new medication?", Loraine then wanted to know first.

Astonished, Regina shook her head and propped one hand on the countertop. "No. They just upped the dose of a couple of medications when the depression got worse."

"Then that will be it," Loraine surmised, nodding. "Antidepressants often have the paradoxical effect, when you first start taking them, they're making the depression and mood swings worse instead of better at the beginning. While I don't think that's as common at other doses, it would definitely explain it. Give it a few days before you worry too much," she suggested.

"Right, Archie talked about that once," she recalled, taking a quick deep breath. "Thanks. That's a little reassurance."

Loraine nodded, but then looked at her hesitantly. "But that's certainly only part of the problem. She's opened up to me, and understandably everything inside her is confused. She wants to fight, but she's finding it harder and harder the longer the treatments go on. Just... cut her some slack when she wants her rest or is tense. She's afraid of hurting you."

"When you're here, somehow she's always more relaxed than usual," Regina noted with a sigh.

In response, Loraine stepped closer and gently placed both hands on her upper arms so she could look her firmly in the eye. "That's because she knows she doesn't have to go easy on me. I know what she's going through, and I also know that you're always there for her, but... it's not the same. Besides, she wants to protect you. Regina, you can call me anytime you feel like she needs someone to talk to, all right?"

Regina bit her lip, her eyes full of tears, but a smile on her lips. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

Loraine nodded, then looked around the kitchen. "Good, so how can I help?"