Lourdes aka LK

Life is a dream until it’s a nightmare. Things have been going so well. I can’t help but be suspicious that the rug will be pulled out from under all of us at any second. We’re living in Liam’s house now. He has graciously given us complete reign of the entire lower level. He even moved the furniture out so our things would fit and we would feel as at home as possible. Toby’s room is three times as big as the one in our apartment, and mine is as well. In fact, my furniture looks small and lost. The room is mostly bare, but it’s nice to be able to turn around and not bump into each other all the time.

I can hear Liam’s feet thumping on the treadmill upstairs in the gym. I’d like to join him, but I’m too tired. We have a follow-up appointment with Dr. Clover today to find out the results of the bloodwork she had drawn last week. My plan until then is to rest—not sleep—while I watch Toby play in the living room.

He can actually runs in circles and wears himself out without even going outside if need be. I love taking him out for walks and to swim, but on rainy days like today, I’m glad Liam bullied me into living with him. Well, he didn’t actually have to bully me, but I make him think so.

My part-time job at the law firm hasn’t had many hours available lately, and frankly, I couldn’t work them if they did. It’s a relief not to have to worry about finances for a couple of months while I get through the first trimester of my pregnancy. Having Liam close by to help with Toby is pretty awesome too.

The thumping upstairs stops and Toby looks up at the ceiling.

“Ye-yum?” he asks with his big blue eyes wide and full of excitement. He loves Liam so much. He’s the father figure he’s never had.

“Yes, that’s Liam. He will be down in a little while. He was running,” I say and smile.

“Run, run,” he says and runs all the way around the perimeter of the living room until he reaches the sliding glass doors that overlook the pool. He gets distracted every time he sees it. He stops and smacks his hands on the perfectly clean glass and I cringe. I’ve never lived in such a sterile environment. Being that I’m a clean freak, or a germaphobe, as Liam calls me, I should like it, but it also causes me anxiety when Toby messes something up. I’ve been following him around with Windex and Clorox wipes everywhere for days.

“How’s my favorite duo?” Liam asks, descending the stairs into our living room. I swear, he’s trying to kill me when he traipses around in nothing but shorts, especially after he’s been running. Every one of his muscles is glistening and covered with sweat as he saunters across the room to the doors where Toby is standing. He winks at me on the couch as he goes by, and my heart skips a beat. How does he do that to me? And do I do it to him too? He crouches down next to Toby to look outside with him.

“Sucks that it’s raining, buddy. Sorry we can’t swim today.”

“Sim?” Toby asks.

“No, no swimming today, but maybe tomorrow.” He kisses him on the forehead and stands.

“I’m gonna take a shower, and we can go if you’re ready.”

“Yeah, I’m good, just trying not to fall asleep.” Just to drive home that point, I yawn.

“Maybe I should take little man upstairs with me. He can run around in the bathroom while I shower if you think you’re going to fall asleep.” He moves closer to the couch and my heart accelerates. He’s sizing me up, trying to decide if he trusts me not to fall asleep on the job. Unfortunately, until he came downstairs, I would have been with him on that one, but he has my blood pumping and the adrenalin flowing with his bare chested presence, so I think I’m good.

“I think I’ll make it. In fact, we were just going to go up to the kitchen and make a snack, weren’t we, Toby?” I say without breaking eye contact with Liam.

“Nack, want nack,” Toby says, heading toward the stairs.

This seems to put his concerns to rest, no pun intended. He holds out his hand and pulls me up off the couch. We’re standing toe to toe for a second before we turn together to try and beat Toby up the steps. I walk in front of him because I don’t think I can handle looking at his lean, cut back muscles right now. I’ve already had several quickie fantasies about licking the sweat from his eight-pack. A girl can only take so much temptation.

Liam’s kitchen is very high-tech with all the latest gadgets and high-end appliances. I’m not into cooking other than the basics, so I stay away from any intimidating thing that I’m not sure how to run. I sit Toby in his booster seat at the kitchen table that usually has a breathtaking view of LA, but it’s too cloudy and rainy today to see much of anything.

“I won’t be longer than fifteen minutes,” Liam says, sauntering down the hall toward his bedroom—his and Amira’s bedroom. It’s been weird seeing little touches of her throughout the house. I don’t know why. It’s her house, but she’s been gone so long that sometimes I forget he’s married. Liam officially filed for divorce yesterday, and Amira will be notified soon. That makes me very nervous. I don’t know how she’s going to take the news. I’ve been imagining different scenarios all morning. Will she freak out and come home, or will she refuse to sign the papers? Maybe she’ll just ignore the whole thing, thinking it’ll just go away? Liam says not to worry, but I do, and I know he does too. He just won’t admit it. His career is solid and his club is one of the hottest in the city, but Amira’s father has a very long reach and even deeper pockets. He could destroy everything he’s worked so hard for all his life.

Twenty minutes later, I’m floating around in a cloud of Liam’s soapy clean scent and buckling Toby into his seat. He smells so good all the time, but I’ve learned while living with him the past few days that fresh out of the shower Liam is the most delicious thing I’ve ever smelled.

“You’re looking at me funny,” he says.

“I am?” I must have been daydreaming again. “Sorry. You smell good and I’m sorta spacy. I need a nap.”

We pull out of the garage into the pouring rain. Liam reaches his arm across the seat behind me while he backs out and takes advantage of the closeness. He tickles the side of my neck and I giggle.

“When we get home, we can all take a nap. I closed the club last night. I’m tired too.”

He pulls on the end of a piece of my hair. “Your hair is getting longer.”

I automatically lift my hand to where my hair now covers the back of my neck. It’s beginning to get long. “Yeah, I thought I’d grow it back out for a while. It’s only been short for a little over a year. I’m used to long hair.”

“I like your short hair. A woman who can be drop dead gorgeous with short hair is a truly beautiful woman. Too many women hide behind their hair and depend on it to be beautiful. You just are beautiful.”

I can feel myself blushing as I turn to look out the window. Drops of rain race down the glass, and I follow one down with my fingertip.

“Liam, I’m worried about Amira. Did you tell her I was living in her house?” He told me he was going to tell her, but I’ve not heard a word about it since before the move.

“I compliment you and you’re thinking about my soon to be ex-wife?” He briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at me.

“It’s just that I feel guilty. I feel like I’ve stepped in to replace her and she doesn’t even know what’s going on,” I say while I play with a string that’s fraying from a hole in my jeans.

“She’s not coming home any time soon. Her father is still very sick. I know her. She’s not moving from his bedside until she knows she’s in his will. The last time she texted me, he was on life support, and that was just three days ago.”

“Do you think she’ll be notified of the divorce today?”

“Yes, she may already know. The way I see it, she could go one of two ways. Either she rages and digs her heels in deep, refusing to let go, or she gets dirty publicly. Neither option is going to be pretty, but I’ve got a public relations team and lawyers who are working magic and gathering ammunition against her. If she so much as breathes a word about my being unfaithful, they’re going to blast her out of the water.

“I never cared enough to try and prove that she was sleeping around before, but women with the kind of money Amira has aren’t lonely. She’s been spotted all over the world on the arms of many men. It didn’t bother me because I don’t love her, and I knew it was going to be over as soon as my tour was finished anyway. All of the pictures and video clips of her hanging on other guys—and even a few women—will be very damming splashed all over the tabloids, and her father and his people will not tolerate that.”

I feel sick now. This is no little amicable divorce—not that I ever thought it would be—but the possibility of my entire life being opened up to the public is disturbing and stressful.

I must look as nauseated as I feel, because Liam reaches across for my hand. “You don’t have to worry. I’m all over this.”

I nod, but his words have a hint of uncertainty. I want to believe him—God, I do—but Amira is like unstable dynamite. It looks harmless, but just when you think you’re safe, BOOM! It explodes, destroying you and everything around you.

Liam squeezes my hand and I smile weakly. There isn’t anything I can do but go along for the ride. I’m in this for life. We have a baby coming, and although I haven’t said it out loud, I’m hopelessly in love with Liam. I’d go through hell and brimstone for him, and with Amira in the mix, I may have to.

In Dr. Clover’s office, we wait while Toby plays with a basket of toys and books that the kind doctor has available for her patients’ children. Liam and I are sitting across from her, and I’m getting a very bad vibe. She doesn’t look like she’s simply going to tell me I’m anemic and that I need to take more iron. There’s a sense of doom and gloom in the air as she shuffles papers in and out of a folder. There’s a knock at the door, and a man opens it a crack and she motions for him to come in. He’s wearing a long, white coat—another doctor.

Not good.

“I’ve asked Dr. Jacobs to be here with us today. I’ve consulted him because some of your recent bloodwork had me concerned, Lourdes,” she says, looking directly at me.

My stomach rolls, and my eyes dart around the room for the nearest trash can just in case I need to vomit.

“What kind of concerns?” Liam asks, grasping the arms of his chair to scoot forward to the edge of his seat.

“Lourdes, you’ve been complaining of extreme fatigue, which can be very normal during pregnancy, but the shortness of breath you mentioned threw up a red flag.”

“Wait, you’ve been having shortness of breath? Since when? You never mentioned that to me. I never noticed it.”

Liam is freaking out. I’m freaking out. Toby has stopped playing with the toys, and he’s looking at both of us. Even a two-year-old senses the tension in the room.

Dr. Clover looks from me to Liam to Toby and back to me. “Lourdes, we need to do a physical exam, but I suspect from your bloodwork and your symptoms that you have Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”

The room implodes with silence. The only sound is a ringing in my ears, and every pore in my body just began to sweat at the same exact moment.

“Lourdes. Lourdes, can you hear me?” Somehow, Dr. Clover has moved without my noticing and is now on her knees in front of me, patting my cheek and repeating my name.

“Wait a second. Hodgkin’s lymphoma—that’s cancer, isn’t it? How could she have cancer? She’s perfectly healthy, she doesn’t smoke or do drugs, she eats organic food, for God’s sake. She can’t have cancer!” Liam’s voice accelerates with every word he speaks.

Dr. Clover doesn’t know which one of us to deal with first. She turns to look at Dr. Jacobs, and I wonder what kind of doctor he is, but then it hits me like a freight train. He is an oncologist, here to tell me I’m going to die of cancer.

Toby is at my knee now, trying to crawl into my lap, and tears are streaming down my face. I never even felt like I was going to cry. I didn’t even know I was crying until I pulled my sweet boy onto my lap and he laid his chubby, soft hand on my wet cheek.

“No cry,” he says with so much worry in his eyes that I do the opposite of what he’s asking of me. I cry harder until he wraps his arms around my neck and squeezes me tight.

“Okay, lets all try to calm down a little here. This is very frightening news, especially since you’re so young and pregnant, but let’s back up a little,” Dr. Jacobs says. I suddenly feel like reaching out and smacking him upside his head for telling us to calm down. How about he fucks off a little and gives me a minute or two to soak up what little I know so far?

“You should know that we believe you are stage one, which is treatable. You are also only exhibiting a few of the symptoms, which leads me to believe that we have caught this very early, as well as the fact that your bloodwork was virtually normal a few months ago when you applied to be a surrogate. We need to do some more testing and a full physical exam to make an exact diagnosis—and possibly a biopsy of a lymph node—but I am very hopeful that we can have you cancer-free by the time you deliver.”

I just heard about twenty-five percent of what he just said and I understood even less, but it sounds like we might be able to fight this and win, and essentially, that’s all I need to know right now.

I sniffle, and Liam snatches a box of tissue off the desk and holds it out for me to take a few. Toby grabs a few of his own tissues to wipe my tears off my cheeks, which makes me want to cry again. I can’t talk yet. I don’t even know what questions to ask. I feel like my brain is a factory that shut down with a million orders to be filled.

“So you’re not sure she has this? That’s what it sounds like anyway. I mean, you need to do more tests before you can diagnose her, right?” Liam asks with a little less panic in his voice than a few moments ago.

“Well yes, we do have to run some tests, but her blood results are highly indicative of Hodgkin’s disease. I’d like to get Lourdes in right away for a full physical and a few scans,” Dr. Jacobs says. He has taken a seat next to me on the opposite side from Liam.

“Scans? Is all of this safe to do while she’s pregnant? Is the baby going to be okay? Maybe we should get a second opinion.” Liam’s first three questions are directed at Dr. Clover, but the last is sort of a verbal musing that trails off into nothing.

“That’s another positive note. You’re in your second trimester. Treatment is safer after the first trimester. I don’t want to commit to any specific treatment plan until we know exactly what we are dealing with, but typically, we would do a round of chemotherapy soon, and if all goes well, deliver you a few weeks early so you can have another round after delivery.”

I finally find my voice when I hear the word chemotherapy.

“Isn’t chemotherapy poison? Doesn’t it kill all the cells without discrimination? How can that be safe during pregnancy?” My voice sounds so weak and timid that I hardly recognize it.

“Yes. I don’t understand that either. Isn’t there a different treatment for pregnant women?” Liam asks.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’d like to schedule an appointment for tomorrow morning in my office for an exam. Does nine o’clock work for both of you?” Dr. Jacobs asks.

Toby’s arms are still securely wrapped around my neck when I look at Liam for help. He looks more scared than I’ve ever seen him. His eyes are full of tears and he’s pale, with a deep line etched between his brows. He holds my gaze for five long beats of my heart—thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. My life pauses, moving in slow motion for those five beats. At the end of them, Liam shakes his head slightly as if to clear the fog that’s settled around us.

“Of course we can be there,” he says with his eyes still locked on mine.

“Good. All right then. Our best chance at a full recession is to move quickly and get a solid treatment plan in place. I’ll see you both in the morning?” he asks, and I tear my gaze from the safety of Liam’s and nod at Dr. Jacobs.

Dr. Clover stands and leans against her desk behind her. “Lourdes, we will get through this. If you had to get cancer, this is the best scenario. We caught it extremely early, you’re young and otherwise healthy, and the baby is in its second trimester, which makes it much safer to treat you,” she says, reaching out to take my hand.

Best-case scenario? These people are fucking off their rockers if they think anything about this is a best-case scenario. Dr. Jacobs touches me on my shoulder and gently reminds me that he will be seeing me tomorrow. Then he shakes hands with Liam and walks out the door. I wonder how many times a day that man has to do this? How many times has he scared the shit out of someone telling them they have cancer? What a depressing job. Why would anyone choose to do that? I guess I should be grateful that he does what he does, but I’m not feeling very grateful about anything right now. In fact, I’m not feeling anything at all. I’m numb.

“Lourdes,” Dr. Clover addresses me, and I look at her over Toby’s head like a zombie, expressionless and flat.

“You’re both in shock, and I’m sure you have a lot to discuss. Would you like to use my office for a little while? I need to start seeing patients, but you’re welcome to stay.”

I don’t want to be in this office another second longer. In fact, I never want to see the inside of Dr. Clover’s office again. If we have to discuss something, I’m requesting it be done in an exam room from now on. I will forever associate this office with the moment my life came crashing down.

I stand and gather my purse, still holding Toby, and leave without a word. I don’t think Liam said anything either, because he’s right behind me within seconds, with his hand on the small of my back. I look over at him, but he’s focused on the exit. He needs to get out of here too.

Outside, I feel like Mother Nature knew what was in store for me today. It’s still gloomy and overcast. The rain has stopped, but the day is as dreary and grey as my heart. Liam takes Toby from my arms when we reach the car.

“Stay right here. Don’t get in,” he says when he opens the back door. He ducks inside to buckle Toby into his seat, and I hear him reassuring my little boy that I’m okay. When he unfolds out of the back seat, he closes the door and steps in close to me. He takes my head in his hands and slides his thumbs over my still-damp cheeks.

“We’re going to kick some Hodgkin’s ass, baby. You and me. We’re going to get through this. It’s going to be fine.”

I lower my eyes to the wet concrete, but he tilts my face back up to his.

“I’m going to kiss you, Lourdes. I’m going to kiss you, because I want you to know that I’m in this forever. I love you, and nothing—not a meaningless marriage license or even fucking cancer—can keep us apart.”

He slides one hand behind my neck and pulls me against his chest. My body is still in shock, lifeless and limp. I stand with my arms hanging at my sides. He moves his other hand down my neck to my chest, where it rests on my heart. I blink and stare at his beautiful mouth. His lips are so close to mine that I can feel his energy flowing from them before we even touch. He breathes life back into my defunct body with his kiss. When his mouth melds with mine, I imagine a black and white photograph of two lovers flooding with color from the point where their lips meet. A cloudy, gloomy day becomes bright with sunlight, and their hearts can be seen through their skin, beating full and red with life and love.

He begins slow and gentle with soft, tentative kisses to my lips. When my arms float up to his shoulders, he holds me tighter. I give in and allow him to take me wherever he wants to go. He senses my release and slides his tongue between my lips into my welcoming mouth, where it glides and dances in perfect time with mine. I feel like I’ve never really been kissed before—not properly, anyway. We fit together perfectly, our mouths, our bodies, our spirits. This connection is so much more than physical. It’s soul deep.

My hands have a mind of their own as one slides up to the back of his neck into his hair and I drag the other along the stubble of his jawline, urging him to take more of me. The hand over my heart moves over my breast and brushes my nipple through the thin material of my shirt with his thumb. We separate for a second for air, and a whimper escapes my lips. He moans and covers my mouth with his again until we’re both gasping and panting. With our lips still barely touching, forehead-to-forehead, he whispers the words I almost missed earlier, and one of the worst days of my life suddenly becomes the best.

“I love you, Lourdes.”

“I love you too, Liam. More than you can ever know.”