9:20 P.M.
The shriek of her phone startled Miranda from the past to the present. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, stood, and hurried to her phone. “This is Rader,” she answered.
“Miranda?” A woman. Her voice high-pitched and hysterical.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“It’s Tara. From the bar.”
The image of Summer grimacing and rubbing her temple filled her head. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Summer. She collapsed again. I couldn’t get her to wake up—”
“Call 911.”
“I did. They’re here now, loading her into the ambulance. I can’t leave the bar.… We’re busy and—”
Miranda grabbed her purse and started for the front door. “I’m on my way. I’ll keep you posted.”
Eight minutes later, Miranda wheeled into the emergency room drive, stopping behind an ambulance. An EMT was slamming the vehicle’s rear doors.
She hopped out. “You just drop off Summer Knight?”
“We did. They’re admitting her now.”
She thanked them and rushed inside—and saw that the hospital staff was trying to admit her. Summer was alert and mighty pissed off.
“Ms. Knight,” the nurse said sharply, “we’re just trying to help you.”
“Then get me off this damn thing!”
Miranda hurried over. “Summer, what’s all the fuss about?”
Summer looked relieved to see her. “I don’t have a clue. I wake up in an ambulance, for God’s sake, and nobody will tell me anything!” She glared at the nurse.
Miranda stepped in. “Tara called me. She said you passed out at the bar and she couldn’t rouse you.”
Summer scowled. “That girl’s overexcitable.”
“She did the right thing. It’s you who’s acting like a horse’s behind.” Miranda looked at the nurse. “She had a seizure a couple days ago as well. I was there when it happened.”
“I have epilepsy,” Summer muttered. “This happens.”
The paramedic returned with his paperwork. He looked tired. When he spoke, he sounded tired, too. “And as I told you ma’am, what I observed was not consistent with an epileptic seizure.”
Miranda frowned, then looked at Summer. “I don’t like the sound of that. You’re here. Just stay and let them run a few tests. You might have hit your head—”
“Which is why we’re going to take you down to get a CT scan. If everything looks all right, you’re out of here.”
“Nope. I’m out of here now.” She sat up and swung her legs off the side of the gurney.
She seemed to wobble and Miranda darted forward to steady her. “Summer, please be reasonable—”
She jerked her arm free. “You’re either my friend and you help me out of here or you’re not and I call an Uber and do this alone. Either way, I’m leaving.”
Both the ER nurse and paramedic looked flummoxed. “Ma’am, I strongly suggest you stay. One CT scan, that’s all.”
“No.” She stood, confronting Miranda. “Well?”
Miranda glanced apologetically at the nurse, then nodded. “I’ll take you home.”
All Summer’s bluster seemed to evaporate. “Thank you.”
The nurse shrugged. “We can’t make you stay. But we have some forms you’ll need to sign before you leave. They state that it was your choice to leave the hospital and you won’t hold us responsible should anything happen to you as a result.”
Ten minutes later Miranda had Summer settled into her front passenger seat. She turned to Summer before she pulled away from the curb. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Just take me back to the bar.”
Miranda made a choked sound of disbelief. “That’s so not happening, girlfriend.”
Summer leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Figured you’d say that.”
Summer lived in a quirky condo on the far edge of the university area. Miranda parked and ran around to help her; Summer waved her off.
“C’mon in, we’ll talk.”
Summer unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on the light. Miranda followed her in, then stopped in surprise. The place was a mess, unread mail and newspapers stacked about, shoes that had obviously been kicked off and left, empty soda cans, a couple beer bottles. It wasn’t exactly awful—no dirty dishes or food sitting out—but it didn’t hold up to her friend’s usual standards.
“You have been feeling bad.”
Summer ignored that. “Something to drink?”
“How about a beer? I’m not working tomorrow.”
“It’s a pretty night. Let’s sit on the patio.”
Miranda wandered out; a moment later, Summer returned with two bottles of Blue Moon. They sat at the small table and Miranda eyed the beer. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“What I have, a little alcohol isn’t going to hurt.”
“Yeah?” Miranda brought the bottle to her lips. “And what’s that?”
Again, Summer ignored her and redirected. “I know I seemed kind of like a jerk back there—”
“Kind of like?”
“My kind of friend, honest to a fault.” Summer lifted her bottle in a mock toast, then took a swallow before continuing. “The deal is, I already know what’s wrong with me and they weren’t going to be able to make it better.”
“Hardheadedness? A screw loose? Or maybe, wound too tight?”
“Funny—” She brought the bottle to her lips once more. “Considering.”
Miranda frowned. “Considering what? You’re sort of scaring me now.”
“I have cancer.”
Miranda felt like a two-hundred-pound, drug-fueled perp had just punched her in the gut. “You didn’t just say—”
“Yeah, I did.”
“What kind?” Miranda managed, voice thick.
“The worst kind.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Brain.”
Miranda sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay … so what’s your plan?”
“Live out the rest of my life here, not in a hospital.”
“What about your treatment plan? Is it underway?”
“It is,” she said. “Because I’m not doing treatment.”
“Wait … what?”
“You heard me.” Summer looked her in the eyes. “The tumor’s inoperable. The drugs will make me sick as hell, and I’m not interested living my last months that way.”
Months, not years. Miranda swallowed past the lump in her throat. “But won’t treatment extend your life?”
“Define life.” She leaned forward. “This is a fast-growing, high-grade tumor. I have drugs to help with symptoms, but I choose not to seek treatment. It’s terminal, Miranda. I’ve dealt with that fact, and I’ve made my decision about how I want to live out the rest of my life. I hope you can support me in this.”
What could she say? It was Summer’s life, her body, and her decision what to do with it. With every fiber of her own being she wanted to scream, “Fight!” and “Miracles happen!”
But that was her reaction, not Summer’s. And how could she judge? Until faced with the same prognosis, she couldn’t. Nobody could.
So she nodded, went around the table, and hugged her friend.
Holding on to each other, they cried until they laughed.