13

“Dad, you didn’t have to come today. Mom and I can handle a visit to the doctor by ourselves.” April and her parents were in Dr. Sorenson’s waiting room at the hospital.

“No way,” her father said, balancing his laptop computer on his knees. “I only have to answer some e-mail and do a spreadsheet for one client, so there’s not much work to do. Besides I want to take my two favorite women out to dinner when this is over.”

April’s mother reached over and squeezed his hand, and April realized that he’d really come to lend moral support to his wife, which only made April feel more apprehensive. Did they suspect that the doctor was going to give them bad news? “It’s going to be a long, boring day,” April said.

“Hey, it’s better than being cooped up in the office all day,” he said brightly.

Mark had wanted to come also, but she’d told him not to. Her parents still weren’t enthusiastic about her relationship with Mark. And to be honest, she had enough on her mind at the moment without dealing with any tension between Mark and her parents.

A nurse ushered them into an examination room. Dr. Sorenson said hello and began to write orders for her day of testing—blood work, X rays, CAT scan. “Will you be able to tell us anything today?” April asked.

He shook his head. “I’ll have to evaluate the results and confer with my colleagues. Then we’ll set up an appointment and go over everything with you.”

“But how do you think I’m doing?” she pressed. “You must have some idea.”

“I think you look terrific,” he said with one of his professional smiles. “And you aren’t having any more headaches, are you?”

“No, but—”

“Then let’s wait until the results come in.”

After a long day of tedious testing, her father took them to a Thai restaurant. April ate without tasting her food and pretended to be having a better time than she was. She didn’t want to disappoint her parents, who kept saying, “No news is good news,” and “I’m sure this is all behind us.” She was glad when the evening was over and she was home again. She phoned Mark immediately.

“How long do you have to wait for the results?” he asked.

“Who knows? Maybe a week.”

“Then stop thinking about it. Think about my big race. Think about you and me in the winner’s circle. Think about all those new clothes you’re going to buy for college. Think about how much fun we’re going to have when I come visit you at Northwestern.”

“All right, all right, enough,” she said with a laugh. “I get the point: Think happy thoughts.”

“It works for me. No matter how lousy I feel, I think of you and my whole day improves.”

“You say the nicest things.”

“Just the truth, and nothing but the truth.”

On Monday April and her mother went into the city and toured the big department stores, buying clothes for college. They also shopped for dorm-room accessories—comforter, sheets, towels, study lamp—everything the “Welcome Freshman” letter she’d received from the registrar suggested. With every purchase, she felt a mounting excitement. In two months she’d be settling into a brand-new life, and except for missing Mark, she was looking forward to it.

She had her mother drop her off at Mark’s afterward. “He’ll bring me home,” she said.

Her mother peered up at the aging apartment building. “Are you sure this place is safe?”

“Of course it’s safe. Everybody can’t live in Woodmere,” April said, naming their exclusive Long Island suburb.

Her mother insisted on coming up with her. They took the elevator to Mark’s floor and rang the bell. When the door opened, Mark stood there in his bare feet. He looked flushed and his breath sounded raspy. “You’re early,” he said, clearing his throat.

Feeling her mother eyeing him, April asked, “Is it okay? We can come back later.”

“Come in. Randy was just finishing up my therapy.”

Randy sauntered out of Mark’s bedroom and gave April a cheerful smile. “I’m out of here.” He turned to Mark. “See you later, man.”

“What therapy?” April’s mother asked once the three of them were alone.

“Respiratory,” Mark said. “To break up … well … to help me breathe better. My lungs get clogged. Want some iced tea?”

“No, thank you.” She gazed around the apartment, and April could tell she wasn’t overly impressed. “How long have you been living here?”

“Two years. It’s not permanent. I have plans to move to a better place.”

April’s mother walked to the makeshift bookshelves across the room. She stood examining Mark’s racing trophies. “It looks as if you’ve won a lot of races.”

“Well … a few.”

April stepped in front of her mother before she could go back to giving Mark the third degree. “Aren’t you supposed to meet Dad for supper?”

“What about your supper?”

“I’m cooking,” Mark said with a disarming grin. “I’m not a bad cook. My Mom’s Italian and I learned from her.”

April could see that her mother was hesitant. April promised to be home before midnight and nearly pushed her mother out the door.

“I don’t think she was happy about leaving you here,” Mark said when he and April were alone.

“She knows I come here a lot. Today shouldn’t make any difference.”

“But this is the first time she’s seen my place. I don’t think she likes it. I can’t blame her. You deserve better.”

“Get real! Mom’s just being Mom. Frowning and disapproving is her natural state.” April tried to joke about it.

Mark didn’t seem to believe her. “I wish things were different. I wish I had more to offer you.”

“What do you mean? What would you offer me?”

He shrugged. “Forget it. You’ll be out of here soon and I’ll be just a memory.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a downer. Let’s get into the kitchen and see what I can put together. I promised your mother I’d feed you, and I will. I really am a good cook.”

She caught his arm. “I’d rather do something else instead.”

“What?”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and now seems like the best time to bring it up. You’ve shut me out of your CF world, Mark.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to learn how to do your thumps. Just like Randy does.”

Mark shook his head. “No.”

“Why not? I want to learn. I want to help. I hate having to end our evenings early because Randy has to pound your back. Or get a late start because he has to work on you first. I can learn, Mark. I can do it for you and—”

“No!” His tone was firm and sharp. “That’s not what I want from you, April. I don’t want you to be my nurse.”

“You tell me you love me, but you won’t let me share this with you. That’s not fair.” She heard her voice rising. “If we love each other, then you should let me into this part of you. It’s a big part, Mark.”

He looked away from her. “The answer is no. I don’t want you to see me that way.”

“But I saw you in the hospital.”

“Not the same thing.”

“But—”

He took her by her shoulders, pulled her against his chest, wrapped his arms around her, and held her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. “Please, April. Please understand. I love you too much to fight with you. Just don’t ask this of me. My therapy is not something I want you to do for me. I want you to love me, not nurse me.”

She didn’t want to be shut out of any part of his life but decided against arguing with him about it just now. He wanted to spare her, shield her from his fragility. But his stubbornness was driving a wedge between them, and she couldn’t make him see it. “I love you, Mark,” she whispered. “And nothing’s going to change that. Nothing.”

Three days later, Dr. Sorenson called April and her parents into his office for a conference. He shuffled papers, steepled his fingers, and studied them across the expanse of his cluttered desk. April knew right away the news wasn’t good.

“We aren’t seeing the kind of progress that we’d hoped to see in reducing the tumor,” he said. A fluorescent bulb buzzed noisily overhead, reminding April of a fly trapped on window glass.

“What does that mean?” Her father asked cautiously. Her mother sat tense and white-lipped.

“It hasn’t shrunk appreciably.”

“You mean I went through all those weeks of radiation and it didn’t help?” April felt numb and detached, as if she were discussing some other person.

“That is correct.”

“So I still can’t have the gamma knife surgery?”

“Very few neurosurgeons would attempt such a surgery. It’s not just the size of the tumor. It’s the placement—its growth around the brain stem and cerebellum.”

“But I want it out! I want it gone!”

Her mother gripped her hand until April’s fingers ached. “What if you did the surgery anyway?” her mother asked.

“We could paralyze her. Or even kill her.”

Her father cleared his throat. “All right, you’ve made your point. So, tell us, where do we go from here? More radiation?”

“Radiation didn’t work, and because she also had radiation as a child, we can’t put her through that protocol again.”

“Then what?” April had to clench her teeth to talk, afraid they would chatter because she was shaking all over.

“The tumor is dormant right now, and it could remain so.”

“For how long?”

Dr. Sorenson shook his head. “I don’t know. I wish I had better news for you.”

He was being purposely evasive and it frightened April. “I’m supposed to go away to college. I’ve been accepted to Northwestern.”

“You don’t have to change your plans. Chicago has fine neurologists, and I can get you the name of someone to take over your case.”

“No.” April stood. “You just want to be rid of me because you can’t fix me.”

Dr. Sorenson’s face reddened. “That’s not true, April.”

She turned to her parents, who looked ashen. “I don’t have anything left to say to this man. Except, thanks for nothing!” She spun on her heel and stalked from the room.