Sarah
Cancer fucking sucks. Watching your baby go through intense chemotherapy sucks just as much, if not more. For more than a week, we’ve sat in this hospital room, and Millie has received endless rounds of needle after needle and test after test. Her own courage far outweighs my own.
Every prick of her skin is like a slice to my very soul. Every tear that she cries rips out another piece of my heart. The doctors and nurses do what they can to make things fun instead of scary, but you can’t glamorize a needle in your spine. Nothing can take that fear away for either of us.
I haven’t been back to my house since the day we called the ambulance. Bosco’s tried to make me go home and rest, insisting that he would stay with Millie, but I’d refused him every time. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving my baby girl’s side, no matter how badly I need a good night’s sleep in something other than this goddamn chair.
Each morning, either Bosco, or one of the other guys from the club has shown up, bearing coffee and muffins, and a fresh change of clothes. I only manage to snag a shower while Millie naps, or when Bosco’s staying for more than a few minutes.
Millie and I are each coloring a picture when the doctor walks into the room. “Good morning, ladies,” she greets with a cheerful smile. “I come bearing good news. Millie’s counts are getting higher, and if things go well over the next couple of days, you should be good to take her home.”
Take her home? The idea sends horror coursing through my body. “But...” I put the crayon down on the table and look at my daughter. “How?”
Dr. Chisolm takes a seat on the edge of Millie’s bed, then picks up a crayon and begins to color. “Scary, right? I know the idea sounds impossible, but trust me, this is a good thing.” Digging through the basket of broken crayons, she pulls out a pink one and goes back to the picture. “Millie’s immune system is almost non-existent at this point. If she were to get sick, that would be very bad. She doesn’t have the blood cells she needs to fight it off. But, even so, staying here in the hospital is not the answer. Her first round of chemo is over. She’ll have medications you’ll need to administer several times a day, of course, and she’ll need to come back here quite often for treatments and blood tests. Other than that, we find it crucial to our patients to try to live their lives. To go home, sleep in their own beds, play with their own toys, snuggle on the couch with their mommies.”
Millie grins up at her, and Dr. Chisolm winks.
“What if she gets sick again?”
“Then she comes back here, and we do everything we can to make her feel better.” She sighs and glances over at me. “I know this sounds like a lot to take in, but she can’t live in a hospital forever. This treatment plan she’s on will take almost four years. She won’t be able to go to daycare for a while, and things at home will have to be kept sanitized and clean, but aside from that, being at home is what’s going to set her on the road to recovery, to make her life as close to normal as possible.”
I have to admit, that part does make sense. Being at home would be nice, but what do I know about her medicine? And I wouldn’t have a clue how to properly take care of her if she fell sick again. I’ve learned a lot these past couple weeks about cancer. I know just about everything there is to know about human blood now, and could recite off the tests Millie has had and exactly what they’re for, but that was all here, at the hospital. That was with the support of the nurses, doctors, and the volunteers. At home, it would be just me. Alone.
Dr. Chisolm finishes up her picture and holds it up for Millie to see. Millie grins and holds up her own. “Gorgeous, Millie. You’re an artist.” Placing her picture back on the table, she leans over and places a hand over mine. “I promise we won’t send you home unprepared. We’re going to go over everything you need to know a million times between now and then, and when you’re home, I’m just a phone call away.”
Her words do little to soothe my worried mind. Being here in the hospital, where the nurses have been the ones dealing with the complexity of Millie’s treatment, has been easier to take than the idea of being the one responsible myself. But, I know she’s right. Millie would be much happier in our home. Fidgeting in my seat, I attempt to fake a brave smile. “Okay. We’re ready when you are.”
Bosco
Club Chrome in the daytime looks nothing like the popular nightclub it becomes at night. Black walls, mirrors, and chrome furniture look exciting, and even glamorous in the strobing lights of a night on the dance floor. During the day, when the place is empty, it looks plain.
As of yesterday, Rachel has been officially clean for two weeks. I’m amazed every day by her determination to beat this addiction. I can tell there are times that it’s been painful for her, but she doesn’t let that part win. She’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.
When we first got there, we’d filled Pimp and his men in on Marco, and the fear Rachel had about him coming after her. His jaw had gone hard as stone and my blood had ran cold at his tone when his only response had been, “Let him come.”
As we walk down the stairs from Pimp’s office, Rachel grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Are you sure about this?” She looks around the room, her expression guarded. “I mean...the guy’s name is Pimp. I already had one of those, and it didn’t work out so well for me.”
A chuckle escapes before I can stop it, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to control my grin. After a moment, I school my features and place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Pimp’s the absolute best place for you to be. The way he got his name is a story he may tell you one day himself, but I assure you, you’re safe here. He’ll help you in more ways than I ever could.”
Rachel’s eyes search mine, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip. I understand her worry. Trusting someone she doesn’t know isn’t going to be easy for her, and as much as she has her work cut out for her to prove herself to Pimp, Pimp also has to find a way to prove himself to Rachel and gain her trust. Something he’s had to do time and time again for the women he saves.
Finally, she nods and glances over her shoulder to where Pimp stands at the top of the stairs. “He’s scary.”
Reaching out, I pull her into a hug, ignoring the way her body stiffens in my arms. “He’s fierce. There’s a difference. Now hug me and thank me, and tell me you’re going to be all right.”
She stares at me a moment, assessing and reluctant. Finally, coming to some sort of conclusion, her arms come around my waist and she squeezes. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you for not trying to take advantage of me, and thank you for taking care of me the past couple of weeks. I’ll pay you back for that hotel room too.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, and nod toward Pimp from over her shoulder. He’s ready to get started. Pushing her back, I give her a smile. “Now go kick some ass. I’ll be back to visit you. You’ll be sick of me soon.”
Rachel’s partial smile settles the unease I feel at leaving her. She’ll be okay. Pimp will see to that.
As I throw my leg over my ride, I head off to the hospital, thoughts of Rachel fading and being quickly replaced by Sarah. She’s been so damn independent through all of this, not accepting help from anyone unless she’s not given a choice. No matter how hard I try, she refuses to let me in, and I’m trying so fucking hard to be patient, but as time wears on, I’m failing.
When Sarah lost Mouse, she’d built a wall around herself that an entire army couldn’t penetrate. She’d locked me outside of that wall and into the friend zone long before my feelings for her had even become what they are. Getting out of that dreaded place has proven to be next to impossible, and though we’d shared a couple of moments and one hot as fuck kiss, Sarah’s heart is still locked up tight.
I’ve been building on this relationship with Sarah for three years and it’s not going to go away. I just need to bide my time, look for tiny chinks in her armour like the one she had the other day when she flung herself into my lap and kissed the breath from my lungs.
She’s mine already, she just hasn’t been brave enough to admit it yet, and until she can, I’m not fucking going anywhere.