Chapter Eleven

Denise

“Thank you so much for meeting with me.” I shake Melissa’s hand. It’s been three days since I’ve spoken with Zack. Three days since I held his hand while he bared his soul to me or at least part of his soul. Three days and I can still feel his hand on mine.

That night when I got home, I cried for the man who has to be strong for his boy, a man who had no one to hold his own hand. I cried and did something I’ve never done in a long time; I prayed for him. I prayed for Jack. I’m a doctor, so it’s all clinical for me, and I’m not sure God has all the answers, but at that one moment, I wanted God to just make him better. For it to be a miracle. For the past three days, all I’ve done besides work nonstop was read up on the new meds coming to market. Now I’m sitting in front of Melissa, the woman who holds the key to the drug that can make Jack better. I have to be honest; I would sell my soul to the devil for him.

“No problem,” she says, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of her. “I’ve read the chart, and I’ve shown it to the medical directors, and they agree he’s a great candidate.”

My heart is beating, and I’m trying not to show my hand right away. “When can we start?” I ask her, failing miserably.

“We can send you everything by Monday. It would take twenty-two days for the turnaround. Then it’s a waiting game.”

“That works,” I tell her, my heart beating so hard I think it’s going to burst out of my chest. I’m so excited I feel like Tom Cruise did when he went on Oprah and jumped on her couch.

“The cost is high,” she starts, and I just shake my head.

“Cost isn’t an issue,” I tell her, knowing Zack would sell everything he owned for Jack.

“Perfect. Now, let’s eat. I’m starved,” she says. My legs start bouncing, and I pick up my phone to send a text to Steve with one word.

Monday

I turn my phone down and actually have lunch, or at least I try to, but I speed through it, and Melissa just smiles at me.

“How hard was it for you not to pick up the phone and call your patient?”

I look at her. We have been colleagues since I first started at the hospital. She’s been with me through some dark days, and in the end, we held hands through some of our toughest breaks. Losing a patient is always hard, the worst, and I hold them with me forever, and she knows it.

“My hands got twitchy, and my heart was beating out of my chest.”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve.” She folds her hands over her chest.

“Touché, Melissa. Touché,” I say, raising my hand for the waiter and motioning for the bill.

“Go and make your phone calls. I got this,” she says. I put my napkin on the table, smiling at her while calling Zack. He answers after two rings.

“Hello,” he says, huffing and puffing.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” I ask him as I hear him gulp water.

“No,” he says, “I just got done on the treadmill. What’s up?”

“Are you in town?” I ask him.

“I am. I’m headed home in about five minutes. Sarah isn’t feeling well, and I don’t want her around Jack, so I’m sending her home.”

“Good idea. I have some news I think you’ll want to hear,” I tell him and try to remain calm.

“Do you want me to come in and see you or,” he starts saying, and I hear rustling in the background, “you can come by the house. Jack has done nothing but ask about you for the past three days. If I gave the kid your number, he would have blown up your phone,” he tells me, laughing.

“I’ve always wanted a stalker,” I tell him and then put my hand up to hail a nearby cab. “What’s your address?” I ask him, getting into the cab and giving the guy the address. “I’m on my way. I hope that’s okay. I’m excited,” I tell him.

“I’m on my way now, but Sarah is home,” he tells me, and I hang up the phone with him and call Steve.

“Miracle worker,” he says when he answers the phone.

“I’m on my way over to Zack’s now,” I tell him, and he whistles.

“A house call now?” he asks, laughing.

“Sarah feels sick, and I can’t wait till tomorrow. I’m bursting at the seams to tell him the good news.”

“Any chance we could get Evie into this one?” he asks quietly. “Her numbers aren’t looking so good today.”

“Shit,” I say, closing my eyes. “I’ll have to check with Melissa and see if she can do it free or if the foundation can contribute.”

“I don’t think she’ll make it without it,” he says quietly.

“Okay, I’m just getting to Zack’s. I’ll call you when I leave,” I tell him as I pay the driver and jog up to the front door, ringing the doorbell. Sarah comes to the door with her jacket already on.

“Thank god, you’re here,” she tells me, and I see that her eyes are red.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask her, walking in.

“My throat is starting to get scratchy, my bones ache, and I think I feel a fever coming on,” she says, and I reach out, touching her forehead.

“Shit,” I say. Going from her forehead to the side of her neck, I feel her glands. “Your glands are swollen.” I ask her to open her mouth, and it’s dark, but I see small white spots on the back of her throat. “It might be strep. Can you swing by the hospital? Steve is there, and he can check you out,” I tell her, and she nods. I take my phone out and text Steve. “Here is his number. Text him when you get to the hospital, and he will come down and see you.”

“Thank you so, so much,” she says, grabbing her purse and walking out of the door, slamming it.

“Daddy, are you home?” I hear Jack from somewhere in the house.

“Nope, it isn’t Daddy!” I yell and hear little steps running through the house. I spot him running around the corner down the long hallway and open my arms just in time for him to run in them.

“Dr. Denise,” he says, wrapping his arms around my neck and burying his face in my neck. “Sarah is sick,” he says, pulling away from my neck but leaving his hands buried in my hair. “She made me wear a mask, and she wore one too.”

“That’s a good idea,” I tell him, walking into the living room and sitting down with him on my lap. “Your dad should be home any minute, and I have some awesome news for you guys.”

“Is it going to make me all better?” he asks, his eyes big and blue.

“Is it going to make my hair grow back?” he asks me, and I’m about to answer him when I hear Zack’s voice booming from the front door.

“I’m home!” he shouts, and then I hear the keys hit the table by the door as he walks in. From my position on the couch, I look over, and I stop to stare. He’s wearing the team track suit, and he unzips the jacket and throws it off as he smiles at me. His t-shirt pulls across his shoulders, and he smiles at us and sits on the couch, facing us.

“How is everything?” I turn to him and ask.

“It was a gloomy day, but it’s suddenly looking up.” I look down at Jack and then look back over at his father.

“I can’t wait anymore,” I finally say. “I’ve been sitting on this since last week, and I got confirmation at lunch.”

Zack sits up now, propping his forearms on his thighs and letting his hands hang between his knees.

“Is it bad?” he says, and his eyes fill with tears. The need to pick up Jack and go to Zack overtakes me, and I get up, going to sit next to him, my own tears now stinging at my eyes. Jack looks at his father and then at me.

“It’s so not bad,” I say, smiling at him. “They just came out with a new drug; the FDA just approved it to go on the market, but the thing is each patient has to be approved and meet certain guidelines in order to use it.”

“What does that mean?” Zack looks at me, and this time, I reach my hand out and take his, our fingers intertwining.

“It means that Jack is going to be one of the first patients to receive this medication procedure.”

“Oh my god,” he whispers.

“It’s still not guaranteed, but,” I tell him, “it’s a shot.”

“What do we need to do?” he asks me, and I tell him.

“Monday morning, Jack will come in, and we will draw blood to send to their labs to process. This medication alters his white T cells to include a new gene that directs the T cells to target and kill the leukemia cells. So when the processed blood is returned, we’ll infuse it back into him. So it’s almost like we are tricking it.”

“And then I won’t be sick anymore?” Jack asks, and I nod.

“If all goes well,” I say, looking at him, and I can’t help the tears that fall, “you will be a healthy little boy. There are side effects, of course, but we can only hope for the best.”

“We have to try it,” Zack says. “Whatever the effects are in the end, if he’s okay, that is what we want.”

“There is also the cost that I have to bring up.”

“Not an issue,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll eat ramen noodles for the rest of my life if I have to.”

I laugh at him this time as his thumb rubs mine. “Thank you,” he says quietly, “for taking us on.”

I turn from his stare to his son’s; whose eyes are just like his father. “For him, anything,” I say, kissing his neck.

“Are we having dinner together?” Jack asks. “I want spaghetti.”

“Will you stay?” I turn to Zack when he asks, meeting his eyes. “Will you stay and have dinner with us?”

I shouldn’t stay. I should say no, put Jack down, and walk out the door. Leave and go home to my loft, alone. But I don’t say no. I can’t say no. Instead, I just nod my head. “There is no place I’d rather be,” I say, and it’s one hundred percent true.

Zack gets up. “I need a shower. I ran out as soon as Sarah called.”

“Go ahead,” I tell him, getting up with Jack. “Jack and I are going to go get a snack while I start dinner, if that is okay?” I ask him, and he just nods his head. I’m expecting him to walk away from me. What I’m not expecting is his hand to come up and cup my face.

“You really are everything everyone says about you,” he says softly. I get lost in his voice.

“I just do what I can,” I answer him honestly. He looks down and then up again, turning to walk out of the room and up the stairs. “So what do you say?” I ask Jack. “Want to help me cook dinner?”

“Yes, please,” he says, smiling. We walk to the kitchen where I start to make dinner with him by my side.