Three months have passed since I started the hell they call chemotherapy and I’m over it. My body is exhausted and fucking fragile, and my mind is worse. I’m tired of being sick, I’m tired of being tired, and I’m super fucking tired of the pitying looks I get from people every time I leave the house. The only people who don’t give them to me are Dex and Judson, and I think it’s because they get it. They may not have had chemo but they’ve been through hell with the visible signs to show it—Judson with the amputation and Dex with the burns. My family can’t even look at me without pity anymore and last week I lost it on all of them. I went to the Saturday dinner, the first one I’d been to since I started chemo, and I was treated like a damn porcelain doll rather than the man they’ve always known. They didn’t even act like this the last time I fought cancer. When my father and brothers looked at me like that, I lost my shit on the whole room and stormed out. I’d probably feel bad about upsetting Mamá if she wasn’t doing the same thing. I haven’t spoken to any of them since. My sister tried to come by but I told her to get the hell out. I have one more round of chemo this morning, which I’ll take a taxi to and from, and then I’ll take care of myself. If any of my family shows up here with that Eeyore-looking face I’ll freak out.

Am I overreacting? Maybe, but it doesn’t feel that way. I’m tired of being sick. I’m tired of being hairless and I hate being weak. My food tastes like shit and usually upsets my stomach, and my skin looks nasty and pasty, like something out of a zombie movie. If this round of chemo doesn’t cut it, I’m not sure I can do another. I have no quality of life to go with my added days and who wants that? I’d rather be six feet under than alive and stuck in a shitty life.

This morning seems worse than usual considering it took me forever to get a shower and now I’m completely wiped out just from getting dressed. I pull the beanie on my head and the sweatshirt over my shoulders because let’s face it, I’m always fucking cold now that I lost all my hair and a bunch of weight too. I need to call for a taxi but my phone is in the kitchen so I force myself to get up and go in there. When I cross the threshold to the living room I find Valerie standing by the kitchen counter talking to a mini version of herself. What in the actual fuck?

“Morning,” she says, all chipper like we’re standing at the coffee pot at work.

“What are you doing here, Valerie?” I ask, trying to settle my temper and avoid cuss words in front of Thea. Why in the hell are they standing in my kitchen? Is this a dream? Did I fall asleep after my shower?

“Duh! I’m taking you to treatment. This is my daughter, Thea.” She turns to Thea and says, “This is Mr. Suarez.” The young girl waves a little and smiles tentatively like she’s nervous about how I’ll respond, and I feel like a dick.

“Hi, Thea.” Her face brightens with a carbon copy of her mother’s smile—dimple and all when I force a smile for her. Normally, I’d enjoy her grin, but I’m too busy being pissed. My mother obviously called for reinforcements in the take-care-of-Javier campaign and it pisses me off. What I don’t get is why Valerie would bring her daughter to the house of the dying. It seems like a cruel thing to do.

“If we don’t leave you’re going to be late,” Val says.

I pin her with a nasty glare, but she only smiles brighter and turns to her kid. “Thea, please go start the car. Javier and I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says and slips through the door.

“Why the fuck did you bring your kid to see me like this?” I growl at her.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t be a dick if I did. You may be shitty to your family right now but there is no way you’d be shitty to a kid who’s a complete stranger to you, and if you are I’ll make you pay. She’s out of school today so she’s going to be with us all day. I know you don’t feel good and I know you’re tired, but you need help a little longer so don’t fight it. Just take it. Your mom is worried sick, as is the rest of your family.”

I stare daggers at her because she’s right. I may be able to be a dick to everyone I know, but there is no way I can be a dick to Valerie’s kid and it pisses me off. It feels so much better to be pissed off and lashing out than it does to hide it. Well, fuck her. I just won’t say anything.

I stomp past her like a petulant child, but instead of the irritated sigh or the remark about being an asshole I think is coming, I only hear laughter. That pisses me off more.

“This isn’t funny,” I grumble.

“Yeah, it is,” she keeps laughing as I’m locking the door.

“No, it fucking isn’t!” I shout.

Her laughter dies but the light in her eyes doesn’t. “Yeah, it fucking is. You’re a grown man, strong as an ox and you’re acting like an elementary school bully. Get over yourself. I’m not about to let you sulk your way through your last chemo treatment and push everyone away, so you have to take care of yourself. I’ve got the next three days off and Thea goes to her dad’s tomorrow.”

“I don’t need your help and I don’t need your kid around while I’m puking my guts up.”

“You kicked your family out and yes, actually, you do need help, so you get mine. As for my kid, too bad, she’s part of the deal and I have her until tomorrow. You know I don’t give up time with my kid willingly. Besides, it’s good for her to see that life isn’t always sunshine and roses and sometimes you have to fight your way through it. The only male example she has these days is Ron and he’s turned out to be a wimp. The man couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag. Real men fight through adversity and she needs to see that firsthand. My family can’t show her that because they’re in Florida. Now, quit being a dick and let’s go.”

I don’t even know what to say to that. I’m pissed that she expects me to teach her kid that lesson. Thea has a dad and that should be his job. Jackass.

I stomp past her and climb into the passenger seat of her car and sit quietly all the way to the clinic. When we arrive I check in and get set up.

“Thea and I are going to the store. We’ll be back to get you in a few hours. Do you need anything specific?”

If I wasn’t so busy being a jerk I’d tell her I want some of that potato soup that tasted so good. It’s the only thing that doesn’t taste bland and helps to settle my stomach, but I’m too busy being a little bitch to say a word. I shake my head and look away. I expect to hear a sigh but instead I feel her kiss my head through my beanie and then I hear her shoes squeak as she walks away.

* * *

The car ride home is hell. I throw up the whole way. It doesn’t even take the whole ride to start like it did in the beginning and I’m glad this round is over. When we reach the house, both of them help me inside and to the bedroom. Some people never get this level of nausea, but I’ve always had a weak stomach and the stuff they have me on is vicious.

“Thea, empty the trash in the kitchen, please. The can is inside the garage, to the left. Then put in a new liner and bring it here.”

“I need to be in the bathroom,” I tell her.

“You’re more tired than normal. If you throw up in the trash can, you can at least lie down and sleep in between rounds. I’ll change the bag every time. I got a whole new box.” She stands and walks away as I close my eyes and rest my head on my pillow. This does feel so much better than the floor of the bathroom, laying on a rolled-up towel.

“Fine,” I mumble. I’m sweating buckets and the shivers have started. I fucking hate this.

A few seconds later a damp, cool cloth touches my forehead and moves gently over my cheeks and mouth. Damn, that feels nice.

“Thank you, honey. Can you grab that blanket over there and bring it here? After that, can you start the soup? I’ll be in shortly to help,” Valerie says to Thea.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The blanket covers me and I keep my eyes closed as she continues to wipe my face over and over. The situation is so comforting that I fall asleep for a bit. It usually takes me forever to fall asleep the first time because of the nausea.

The rest of the day I spend in and out, puking and resting. The house remains quiet except the soft padding of feet as Val and Thea come and go. In the middle of the night, diarrhea hits too and I fall trying to get to the bathroom. This might be the most humiliating experience of my life, but I feel so horrible I can’t even bother to care.

For the first time since I saw Valerie in my kitchen I’m glad she’s here. The thought of lying like this until tomorrow, covered in my own shit, is more than I can take. She helps me to the bathroom to finish, then gets me cleaned up because it’s all I can do to keep my head up. My body is wiped out. I’ve got nothing left and no will to live through it anymore. When a man can’t wipe his own ass he no longer feels like a man. I have no idea how much time has passed, but eventually Val helps me back to bed and tucks me in. Within seconds I’m falling asleep again.

Sometime the next day I wake up to find Val on the bed next to me, reading a book. It has some shirtless, tattooed guy next to a motorcycle on the cover.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she says.

I don’t respond; I just shift my gaze to the ceiling. The doorbell rings and I’m wondering who in the hell is here. It better not be one of my family members, although Valerie may have called them to come take over after the hell of last night.

“That’s Victor. I’ll be right back.”

What the hell? She asked her boyfriend to come over here and witness my demise? Screw that. There’s no way I’ll lie here so he can make a pity visit. I can hear them talking softly, some footsteps and the door closing. No one comes in to see me or even says a word to me. I wait for several minutes until Val finally comes back.

“Why is Victor here?” I ask, not hiding my irritation.

“He took Thea to school so I didn’t leave you here alone.”

“You could’ve taken her. I’m fine. I can take care of myself,” I tell her defiantly.

She shoots me a don’t-be-stupid look and says, “No, you can’t. You are severely dehydrated, your muscles are weak, and you’re not thinking clearly. I called and spoke to the oncologist. They’ve ordered a home health nurse to come out and get an IV set up. You need fluids and I knew you wouldn’t leave the house to do it. They’ll also give you the anti-nausea medication through the IV. By tonight you’ll feel much better. Has it been this bad every time?”

I shake my head. “Just these last two. I mean, they all suck, but these two have been the worst.”

“Okay, we’ll get you taken care of. Thea goes to Ron’s tonight so I don’t have to worry about her and I don’t work for a couple more days. I know you aren’t speaking to your family, but you need to let your mom and dad in here to see you without flipping out. You know your mom loves you more than anything and she’s a wreck worrying about you. She’s called me three times since five.”

I look over at the clock. “It’s only 7:45.”

“I know—that’s why you need to let her see you.”

“I don’t want anyone to see me this way. Especially my parents. They raised me to be a man. One who’s strong and able to handle anything, but I can’t handle this.”

She turns all the way on her side, facing me, and runs the back of her fingers across my cheek. I close my eyes at the gentle touch.

“Javier, you are a man and you are strong. You can’t help your body’s reaction to this. Your parents love you more than you can begin to imagine and not letting them see you because of how you appear is stupid. I’m going to tell your mom and dad to come over after dinner. By then you will have gotten some rest and fluids, and we should have the nausea under control.”

“I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can and you will. You can sit in silence for all I care but I’ll be letting them in the door. Don’t break your mother’s heart by ignoring her.”

“You don’t have a clue what this is like.”

“No, I don’t, but I know what kind of man you are and I know that if you continue to act like this you’ll hate yourself. Stop being a dick to everyone who cares and let us help.”

She sits up and leaves the room with those words ringing in my head.

* * *

That night when my parents come in I paint a fake smile on my face. I feel better, much better actually, but I’m still pissed at the world so the smile is fake. I sit and listen as they give the update on every member of our family. It seems everyone has stuff going on while I sit in this house waiting to die. I can’t decide if I’m angry or sad about it, but I wait to analyze it until my parents are gone.

Once they leave I return to my bed and lie in the dark contemplating my life, and I come up empty. I can’t think of a single reason to keep going. I didn’t bring any kids into this world, I don’t have a wife to take care of, my business isn’t changing lives or anything. Even my two families at the VCT have found other mentors. There doesn’t seem to be a reason to keep fighting and if the chemo didn’t wipe out the cancer this time I won’t do it again. I’ve got no reason to.

* * *

My clock reads four o’clock in the morning when I wake up to take a piss. The house is quiet and the only light on is the night light by the side of my bed. When I became a fall risk through all of this someone plugged one in so I could see on my way to the bathroom. I get up and use the bathroom and return to bed. Valerie’s sleeping quietly on her side facing me with one hand tucked under her cheek. The other hand is relaxed on the bed. A few strands of hair have fallen over her eyes and mouth and I can’t help but want to move them. As softly as I can, I brush them back behind her ear. I don’t want to wake her. She keeps crazy long hours, or at least she has since she’s been with me, and she deserves the rest. I fight the urge to trace her lips with my finger. They’re perfect, not too full or too thin, and I know when she’s happy they create the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I could probably stare at her for hours like this. She’s peaceful and beautiful and all the things I’ve ever wanted in a woman. Instead of being angry like I was when I fell asleep, I’m something else… something I can’t quite identify as I lay here taking in this sleeping beauty.

My heart physically hurts knowing what an asshole I’ve been to her through this. I wish I had a good reason other than I was sick, but I don’t. If a psychologist got a hold of me and broke it all down, I’m sure my attitude would have something to do with pushing her away, hoping for distance from what I want most of all. Without thought I reach out again and smooth her hair back with my palm. The motion wakes her and I feel like an asshole.

Her eyes blink several times like she’s trying to see clearly. “Hey, you okay? Do you need something?” she asks, her voice rough with lingering sleep.

“No, I’m sorry I woke you. I’m fine.”

Her sleepy smile warms me a little. “I could get you some water or something.”

“No, really, I’m fine. You can go back to sleep.”

She sits up and looks at me making me feel bad that I woke her; she’s obviously worried.

Not thinking it through, how I shouldn’t do it, I ask, “Will you lay with me?”

Her brow furrows. “I have been.”

“No, I mean with me.” I roll to my back and open my arms for her to join me. “I just want you closer,” I tell her with far too much honesty.

Without hesitation, she crawls over to me and snuggles into my side with her head mostly on my chest and her arm resting across my stomach. If I didn’t feel so physically horrible I’d be in heaven. I wrap one arm around her and use the other to stroke her hair, just enjoying this one little moment in time for a change. Not worrying about what tomorrow or next week or next year will bring.

“Thank you,” I whisper, a little choked up by the whole scenario. “Thank you for everything. I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick.”

She squeezes my middle and holds tight for a second. “Don’t apologize. I know your heart, Javie. You’re not that guy. It’s why I keep coming back. I care about you.”

“I care about you too. It’s why I keep pushing you away.”

“You can push as hard as you want, but I’ll keep coming back. Just remember to be gentle at times so I remember why I continue to return.”

I don’t reply. I kiss the top of her head and continue to stroke her hair as she drifts back off to sleep.