Sarah
“So what does this mean?”
As much as I’ve tried to read everything there is about Millie’s type of cancer, I still don’t quite understand how it all works. Thankfully, Dr. Chisolm is patient and takes her time to explain absolutely everything and answering my questions, no matter how insane they might be.
“It means, Millie’s tests are all negative for cancer cells. Her body is officially cancer free. We’re now moving into the consolidation phase of treatment. This means more chemotherapy, though less intense, regular lumbar punctures, and close monitoring of her blood. During this time, the goal is to kill off any lingering cancer cells that may not be showing up in the tests we’ve done.”
“So it’s not gone?”
Dr. Chisolm shakes her head. “No, not quite. Fighting leukemia is a three-step process, and Millie is now in step two.”
Bosco reaches over and takes my hand. “Better than still being in step one, babe.”
“This will mean a lot less time spent in the hospital, though you will have to bring her back semi-weekly for treatments and testing. It also means that life for all of you can return, at least somewhat, to some semblance of normal.”
That part sends a wave of relief to wash over me. I’m broke. Thank God for free health care in this country, because at this point, I don’t have two pennies to rub together, and I need to get back to work if I want to keep food on our table and a roof over our heads.
As the three of us pile into the car, Bosco looks back at Millie in the rearview mirror. “Well, Tink, what do ya say we go somewhere and celebrate?”
“Yeah!” she cheers from her car seat.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I whisper to him from the passenger’s seat. “Millie hasn’t been out in public for months.”
“Yes,” he says, his hand wrapping around mine as he pulls out of the parking lot. “But the doc just gave her the go ahead, and I think this calls for ice cream.”
“Yay!” Millie cheers.
Their happiness is infectious, so even though I’m not totally comfortable with the idea, I do my best to act excited too. I know I’m being overprotective, but since Millie was diagnosed, I’ve been conditioned to wipe down every surface. I could buy stocks in Purell. I’ve kept her away from hordes of people, and even put together a disinfectant station for visitors to use when they walk inside my home.
As we walk into the local Dairy Queen, it occurs to me that this is the first time the three of us have gone anywhere together since Bosco and I had become an “us.” I do my best to ignore the curious stares of the other customers as they take in Millie and Bosco’s bald heads. I understand their curiosity. I was once the same as them, trying to be inconspicuous with my stares, but the whole time thanking God it wasn’t me or my family going through the same thing.
As Boco and Millie wait for the ice cream, I make my way to the table and dig the container of Lysol wipes from my purse. I wipe down the table and the hard-back seat of the booth. I know the doctor had cleared Millie for going out in public in small doses, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take every precaution necessary to keep her from getting sick.
When the ice cream is ready, the three of us crowd into the booth, and I watch Millie’s smile grow as she devours her chocolate dip cone. The rest of the world fades into the background as I realize just how lucky we are. My little girl is here and alive, and able to enjoy her treat. She doesn’t care that people are staring; she doesn’t even notice. She’s just living in the moment with the family who loves her more than life itself, and that’s all she needs to be happy.
Bosco
Ryker bangs the gavel down, calling an end to our weekly church meeting, and I couldn’t be more relieved. Never before has one been so uneventful and boring. For the first time in a long time, the Kings of Korruption have not one single thing going on.
No jilted ex-lovers or drug crazed pyschos stalking our women in the night. No rival clubs or vengeful gangs looking to teach us a lesson. Even the cops aren’t hot on our tail, because for the last couple years, we’ve been working our asses off to fly straight.
As the room empties, I reach out and place a hand on Pimp’s arm. He stops mid-step and glances first down at my hand, and then up to my face. It’s no surprise most people are intimidated by this motherfucker. He intimidates me, and I’m actually starting to consider him a friend. “Mind if I have a word?”
He eyes me for a moment, assessing me, and then he nods and stands to the side until we’re the last two left.
“I was just wondering how things are going with Rachel?”
He presses his lips together. “She’s a tough nut to crack,” he admits. “She does her work, keeps her nose clean, and doesn’t put up a fight about going to meetings. In a way, she’s a model example for some of the other girls. But she’s emotionless. Dead. The only time I see any life in her at all is when she’s looking over her shoulder for that bastard that sold her when she was living on the streets.”
I blow out a slow breath through my nose. “I was afraid of that. Maybe I could talk to her, see where her head’s at?”
He arches a brow and smirks. “She was the same way with you, no?” I don’t answer because he knows damn well she was. “Just leave her be. If she asks for you I’ll call you in, but for now, let us work with her. I haven’t lost a girl yet, and I’m not about to let her be the first.”
I know he’s right, but I don’t like it. In a way, I feel like I’ve passed Rachel off to him and washed my hands of her. That had never been my intention when I’d decided to help her all those months ago. On the other hand, though, I didn’t have the time to spend with her, or have the resources Pimp does.
He rehabilitates women all the time; it’s his life’s work. My focus is on Millie and getting her well, and being there for Sarah so she doesn’t lose her mind in the process.
Pimp claps a hand down on my shoulder. “She’ll be fine. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
He waits long enough for me to nod my head in agreement, and then he’s stalking out of the room, heading for the bar. I follow him, making a stop in the kitchen to pour myself a coffee.
One nice thing about finally airing out my past for the club is that I don’t have to pretend anymore. Before I’d told them, I would walk around all night with the same beer bottle in my hand, occasionally dumping some of the liquid down the drain and being sure to refill it with water from time to time.
I approach the pool table where Jase and Ryker are just setting up a game. Ryker racks them up and Jase leans across the table, his cue positioned to break. That’s when I notice. “Is that pink nail polish on your fingers, Jase?”
My question catches him off guard, causing him to miss his shot, the white ball striking just one of the balls in the set. He stands and narrows his eyes at me. “Fuck off.”
I take a step closer and crouch down, inspecting his hands. “Jesus Christ, it is!” Much to my delight, all ten of his fingers are topped with a pearly pink polish. “Seems Millie got to you too. At least I stopped at just the thumbs, asshole.”
Jase levels me with a withering glare as the room around us hums with laughter. I grin back at him. Serves you right, jackass.