Beautiful Tragedy (A Standalone Romance Novel) (13 page)

I went to the adult unit then. The nurses told me I
could just go room to room and ask each patient if they wanted to hear a song.
I got quite a few takers, and sang everything from Kenny Rogers to Usher before
I’d got to the last room on the end. I stepped up to the doorway of that one
and saw an older woman sitting next to the bed. She was facing me, but she
didn’t see me. She was looking at the dark-haired girl that lay in the bed. I
looked at her face and my heart went out to her. I had seen that worried drawn
look on my dad’s face more times than I could count. I thought about leaving
and not disturbing her but then the sleeping girl on the bed shifted onto her
back and if my guitar hadn’t been hung around my neck, I would have dropped it.
It was Molly. My Molly!

Okay, in reality she’s not mine. But in my heart that
was exactly what she is…my Molly. The older woman finally saw me, and she must
have seen the shock on my face. She got up and came over to me. When she got
closer, I could see that she had Molly’s eyes.

“Are you okay, son?” she asked me. The human capacity
for empathy amazes me. A few minutes ago she was sitting here worried about
Molly, and now she’s worried about me because I seem to be standing in the
doorway with my mouth wide open.

“Yes, ma’am,” I told her. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I
was offering to play music for the patients. I’m just surprised to see…I mean I
didn’t know….”

“Do you know Molly?” I nodded, dumbly. When I found my
voice again I said, “What’s wrong with her?” Her grandmother, or at least
that’s who I assumed she was at the time said, “Come here, let’s sit.” She led
me past the bed to two chairs by the window. I wanted to stop and touch her.
Hell, I wanted to climb in the bed and hold her. She was so pale, and there was
blood hanging from her IV pole and running into her arm. I followed Molly’s grandma
though, and took the seat she told me to.

“Is she okay?” I asked.

Her grandmother looked at her again and said, “Molly
has an amazing spirit. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” She still hadn’t answered my
other question, so I stubbornly asked it again.

“What’s wrong with her?” The old woman looked at me
with Molly’s eyes and said, “Molly’s a grown up now, as hard as that is for me
to process sometimes. I think we should wait for her to wake up and see if she
would like to tell you.” I wasn’t happy with that answer, but I thought arguing
with the grandmother of the girl I was probably going to fall in love with was
not the best idea. I nodded instead and then remembering my manners I said, “I’m
Brock.”

Molly’s grandma smiled and said, “It’s nice to meet
you Brock. I’m Gail Lewis. I’m Molly’s grandmother and her guardian.” Then she
looked at the guitar and said, “So, you’re a musician?”

“Yeah,” I told her. I was having a hard time keeping
enough moisture in my mouth to talk. My head was reeling with all of the
questions I had. This is an oncology unit. This is where I should be…not Molly.
She wouldn’t be here unless she had some kind of cancer. Why didn’t she tell
me? Asked the pot to the kettle. I remembered her grandma then and I said, “I
come by as often as I can and play for the patients who want me to. I
especially enjoy seeing the kids. They’re little troopers. It gives you hope
for the world.”

Grandma smiled and glanced over at Molly again. “They
certainly are,” she said. “Molly has been giving me hope for the world since
the day she was born. I had lost a little of that where her mother was
concerned, I’m afraid.”

“Where is her mom?” I asked, not knowing if I was
stepping over some kind of boundary or not. But, I figured her grandmother would
tell me if I was.

Grandma looked sad, and then I felt really bad for
asking. Then she said, “I don’t really know. Last time we talked to her she was
in Georgia. She travels…a lot. She left Molly with me when she was two, and
we’ve only seen her once since then…a few years ago. It was awkward for both of
them; they don’t really have a bond any longer.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to think of something more
profound to say. It didn’t come. Poor Molly. First she was abandoned by her own
mother and then…this, whatever this was. I wondered about her dad, but didn’t
ask. As it turned out, I didn’t have to. Her grandma wasn’t finished.

“Molly never knew her father. I don’t even know who he
was. Thank the Lord that Molly turned out as well as she did. She’s got a good
head on her shoulders.”

“You’ve done a great job,” I said. I wished Molly
would wake up, but then I didn’t. She hadn’t told me she was sick, I doubt she
was going to be happy to see me. I tried to tell myself that I should go, but I
knew that wasn’t going to happen. Grandma was smiling and she said, “How do you
know Molly?”

“I go to school here at the university,” I told her.
“My roommate is Molly’s best friend’s boyfriend.” That was a mouthful.

“Megan’s boyfriend,” Grandma said with another smile. “I
met Jake once. He seems like a good boy. Megan is like another daughter to me.
She’s a good girl.”

“Yes, I like Megan a lot. Jake’s okay too,” I told
her. We both looked back over at Molly. She looked so small and pale against
the white sheets and her dark hair. I wondered what Grandma would think if I
told her how much I liked her daughter. So far the longish hair and tattoos
didn’t seem to be offending her, but then she didn’t know how badly I wanted to
date her granddaughter.

“Megan brought her here and called me. I’m sure that
Molly told her not to. Sometimes she gets our roles mixed up and she wants to
be the one who does all the worrying. I told her that was my job, and even my
right as her grandmother.”

I laughed, “Yeah that sounds like Molly. She’s always
thinking.”

“Too much sometimes, I’m afraid,” Grandma said. “I
tell her she’s too serious. She needs to be a kid before the time has passed
and she’s forced to be a grown-up. I try to help her more so that she doesn’t
have to work. I told her that I don’t mind, and it would free her up to do more
college things. But she says she won’t have me working two jobs while she’s not
even working one. I’m afraid she’s over-doing it.”

“I think she wants to be independent very badly,” I
said. I was thinking now about her telling me that she didn’t want a boyfriend
and wondering how much of that was not wanting to have to tell me she was sick.
It was so strange, because I could not only understand that, I could identify
with it. I didn’t like telling people that I was sick because no matter how
good I was doing, they still treated me differently. I knew that it was with
good intentions, and also just because most of the time people just didn’t know
what to say or do. But it was frustrating nonetheless

“Brock,” Grandma was saying, “Will you be here for a
while?”

“I can be, if that’s okay,” I told her. What I didn’t
say was, “Hitch up the wild horses and see if they could drag me away.” I think
she got the point.

“That’s fine,” Grandma said. “I have a few errands and
I didn’t want to leave her alone. I won’t be long, just an hour or two.”

“I won’t leave,” I told her. Then I grinned and said,
“Even if she tries to throw me out when she wakes up.”

Grandma laughed then and said, “
It’s
likely son. Stay tough.”

“I will. Mrs. Lewis?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for letting me stay here.”

The old lady put her hand on my face then and said,
“You seem like a nice boy. Thank you for staying with her.”

If she only knew…had she tried to kick me out, she may
have had to physically remove me. I didn’t just want to be here when she woke
up…whatever the consequences, I needed to be here. My chest was aching just
seeing her in the bed. I had to see for myself that she was okay. I sat down in
the chair next to her bed where her grandmother had been sitting earlier. The
paleness of her skin was a stark contrast to the burgundy of the blood they
were pumping into her. I looked up at the bag to see what type she was. She was
AB positive, the same as me. I whispered, “See I knew I was your type.” I was
glad she was asleep; that one was really corny.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MOLLY

I opened my eyes to the strip of fluorescent lights
above me. The lights were off, but because they were there, I knew that I
wasn’t in my room at the dorm. I looked to my right and saw the tube going into
my arm, attached to the bags of clear fluid and blood. I was in the
hospital…again. I remembered now. Megan brought me here because I was feeling
weak, and the doctor didn’t have good news…and Grandma was here. I turned my
head to where she was supposed to be and imagine my surprise when instead of my
grandmother, I was looking at Brock.

“What are you doing here?” I said a bit too harshly,
maybe. “Did Megan call you?”

I was instantly mad. How dare she? All of this time
she hadn’t told anyone and the one person I most especially didn’t want her to
tell was now sitting at my bedside…in the hospital.

“No, Molly,” he was saying as I cursed poor innocent
Megan in my head. “Megan didn’t tell me. I was here, in the hospital. I play
music for the patients sometimes. I saw you.”

I felt bad for snapping at him, and I felt bad for
accusing Megan. I felt bad period. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want
Brock of all people to see me like this.
 
“I’m sorry. Where’s my grandmother?”

“She had to run a few errands. She said she should be
back soon. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine. What did my grandmother tell you?” I
asked him. I doubted she told him anything but I’m sure he asked. I couldn’t
even look at him.

“Molly look at me, please.” I wanted to tell him to
leave, but I wanted him to stay. I know that’s weird.

“No one told me anything. Your grandmother was really
nice, but she said that if there is anything to be told, you should be the one
to do it. You can tell me, Molly. You can trust me.”

I was looking at his beautiful blue eyes and they were
earnestly telling me that I could trust him. He didn’t want to hurt me…I just
blurted it out…. “I have cancer.” Then I looked at his face and waited
for…something. Whatever I expected though was not what he gave me. I knew Brock
well enough by now to know that he wasn’t like other people.

“I kind of figured that out,” he said, “because of the
oncology unit and all. What kind of cancer do you have Molly. Did they just
find it?”

“It’s called renal cell carcinoma, and I was diagnosed
when I was sixteen. They did chemo and radiation and they thought they had
gotten it all. It hadn’t spread anywhere so the doctor said I was lucky. I was
in remission for just over a year and this summer, it came back. I had one kidney
removed already. The one I have left has cancer in it now. We’ve been trying
some new drugs that the university is experimenting with, that’s why I chose to
come here…” I considered whether or not to tell him what Dr. Harris had told me
earlier, but I decided against it for now. Instead I just said, “I let myself
get dehydrated. I usually take better care of myself than that. My hemoglobin
gets low sometimes because my kidneys don’t produce red blood cells like
they’re supposed to, so that’s what the blood’s about. I’m fine though.”

He looked like he was processing that. I knew from
experience that most people our age didn’t know much about cancer. Most of them
thought cancer meant death. I don’t expect our friendship to be the same now.
At first, he’ll be super nice, asking if there’s anything he can do for me or
anything I need. Then he’ll just stop calling so much, or coming around so
often. When he did call, or we got together, conversation would be awkward and
stilted, because he would be hesitant to talk about things that he was afraid I
might not be able to do because of my dreaded cancer. I had seen it all before.
So far, Grandma and Megan were the only ones that it hadn’t affected that way.

“Is the new chemo working?” he asked. I was surprised
at his use of the word chemo. I had just told him we were trying new meds.
Usually, people unfamiliar with cancer only call it chemo when you go to the
hospital and get an IV. Maybe he was close to someone who’d had cancer.
Sometimes that can be worse. I went to high school with a guy whose father
ended up dying from bladder cancer. I know he wasn’t trying to upset me, but he
used to tell me every detail of his dad’s treatments and surgeries, right up to
his father’s death. That’s just not exactly what a chick with cancer wants to
hear.

“I guess…” I lied. “When did you say my grandmother is
coming back?”

 
I hate this.
Things with Brock, other than the whole awkward kiss thing had been so normal.

“She should be back soon,” he said again. “Do you not
want to talk about this? Your cancer?”

“No,” I told him, “I really don’t.”

“Okay, then we won’t. How about a song? Anything you
want to hear?”

“You pick,” I told him.

Then I closed my eyes and within seconds he was
singing to me:

 
“Her eyes, her
eyes, they make the stars look like they’re not shining. Her hair, her hair,
falls perfectly without her trying. I know, I know when I compliment her she
won’t believe me…..”

 
Bruno Mars.
Damn this guy is good.

“Cause you’re amazing just the way you are.”

I wanted to cry but I didn’t want him to see me. I had
to wonder if he really felt that way about me. Did he really think I was that
beautiful? Would he still think so if I had to go through harsher chemo and I
lost my hair again? What about when I’m puking in that pretty pink bucket;
would I still be amazing? I opened my eyes as he finished the song. He was
looking at me intently again. I didn’t like that. I preferred the amused look.

“That was pretty, thank you,” I told him.

“You’re pretty,” he said. It was so hard to breathe
when he was in the room. Grandma came back then, thank God.

Brock jumped out of the chair and Grandma said, “You
don’t have to get up. I heard you singing when I got off the elevator. You have
a beautiful voice.”

He blushed. He actually turned red. It was so damned
cute.

“Thank you,” he told her. He looked back at me, and I
had the feeling that he wanted me to tell him to stay. I didn’t want him to
though. The blood was almost empty, and the nurses would be in soon, and Dr.
Harris would be back. I moved my leg and felt the catheter. Oh God, I have a
tube in my bladder and the hottest guy in the world is standing here looking at
me.

“It was beautiful, Brock. Thank you. Hi, Grandma.” She
had two big bags of stuff. “What’s in the bags?” I asked her.

“I just got you some things you might need. A couple
of nightgowns, a robe and some slippers…toiletries…”

“Grandma, I have all of that stuff in my dorm room.
It’s
five minutes away and Megan would have brought it to
me. You shouldn’t spend more money on me.”

“It’s my money,” my grandmother said, “I’ll spend it
how I like.” I could see Brock grinning out of the corner of my eye. I wondered
again what they had talked about when I was sleeping. My IV pump started
beeping then. We all looked at the same time.

“It’s empty,” Brock said. “I’ll get the nurse.”

When he left the room my grandmother said, “He’s a
nice boy.”

“Yeah, he is,” I said. “Grandma when the nurses come
back in, I don’t want Brock to be here, okay? Will you please ask him to go?”

My grandmother laughed. “Me?” she said. “Why don’t you
ask him yourself?”

“Have you seen those blue eyes?” I asked her. “I can
hardly remember my own name around him sometimes. Please Grandma.”

She shook her head at me, but I knew she would do it.
She went out into the hall, and when Brock came back in he said that he had to
get going.

“Do you need me to go by your dorm and get anything
for you?” he asked.

“I’m alright,” I told him. “Grandma bought me
everything I needed I’m sure. Thank you for being here Brock, and for the
song.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You’ll call me if you need
anything…right? Even some company?”

“Yes,” I lied again. “Bye.”

He said bye, and as I watched him go, my heart
physically ached.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

BROCK

My head was reeling as I walked back out to my bike. I
woke up this morning with the most beautiful girl in the world in my arms, on
top of the world. Now suddenly, I find out that she has the same affliction as
me…kind of. How did I not know? I guess the answer to that is as simple as how
she doesn’t know about me; she didn’t want me to know. Probably, I’m sure for
the same reasons that I didn’t want to tell her about my own cancer. It just
gets weird for people, and new relationships are the worst.

I drove home in a haze. I wondered if she was telling
me the truth, and she was just dehydrated. What if she was dying? For a second,
I couldn’t breathe. I can’t think about that. I’m being ridiculous anyways.
She’s not eighty-two pounds; she’s not on oxygen or a respirator. She’s like me,
a young person who is LIVING with cancer. I’m sure she’ll be fine.

I found Jake on the couch where I left him, only now
he had pants on at least and he was watching a movie instead of playing his
video game. He looked at me…strangely when I came in.

“What’s up?” I asked him.

“Nothing, why?” he said, in a guilty tone.

“Because you’re acting weird,” I told him.

“That’s just how I act,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. There was something he wanted to
tell me. I’ve known this guy since he was seven years old. “Jake, just tell me
whatever you’re hiding. Are you gay man? Because I’ll still love you.”

“Shut up!” he said, and then he reached over and
punched me in the arm.

“Ouch,” I said, “that hurt.”

“What about the gay comment?” he said.

“I was just guessing things. You want to tell me
something, I can tell.”

“Have you talked to Molly today?” I’ll be damned. The
little sneak knew.

“No, why?” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Just curious,” he said. “Are you guys hanging out
tonight?”

“No, I think I’m going to my support group tonight,” I
told him. I went to a support group at the hospital a few times a month. It
always helped to hear that other people are going through the same shit you are
somehow.

“Oh,” Jake said. He was dying to tell me.

“Where’s Megan today?” I asked.

“She came by earlier,” he said. She had some things to
do.”

“Oh, did she mention Molly?” Now let’s see him try to
get out of that one.

“Um…I don’t remember,” he said.

“You are a horrible liar,” I finally told him. “You
just shouldn’t even do it; you’re so bad at it.”

“What? I’m not lying. I don’t remember.” His face was
flushing as red as his hair now.

“I know that Molly’s in the hospital,” I told him. He
looked like he let out a big breath he’d been holding and he said, “Oh, that’s
good man. I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to tell you…I didn’t want Megan to get
mad…But I thought you should know. Did Molly call you? Is she okay?”

“I was there, remember? I went to play music for the
patients.”

“Oh, yeah.”

The truth was probably that he was so into his game
this morning he hardly noticed I left, much less heard me say where I was
going.

“I thought you played for the cancer people though.
Meg said that Molly was dehydrated….Oh my God! Does Molly have cancer too?”

Shit! He didn’t know…about that, anyways. I should have
known. Megan is too good of a friend to tell him something that personal if
Molly didn’t want her to.

“She’s dehydrated like Megan said,” I told him.
“Sometimes I play in the ER and on the medical floor too.” I didn’t lie, she is
dehydrated and I do play for other sections of the hospital…sometimes.

“Oh, good,” he said. We make fun of Jake, but he’s
really not stupid. He’s just a guy, and sometimes all that testosterone gets in
the way of the neurotransmitters. I think Jake has figured it out, but I’m not
going to be the one to tell him about Molly. Her grandmother was right. If
Molly wanted someone to know, that was her business.

“
Wanna
get beat at some
Grand Theft Auto
before I go?” I asked
him. There were three things that could take Jake’s mind off of anything food,
Megan and video games.

When I went to my support group that night, I walked
by the cancer unit, knowing she was there and I swear my legs took on a mind of
their own. I started to push on the double doors that led down the hall to
where her room was. I remembered that I was going to let her do this on her
terms though. I forced myself to go straight instead. Maybe one day she can go
to the group with me. Maybe it was fate that we met…and we could help each
other through this.

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

MOLLY

The sun was going down on my second day in the
hospital, and Dr. Harris hadn’t even been in yet to see me today. I was getting
restless to say the least. I was currently pacing the room, dragging the IV
pole back and forth with me.

Grandma sat calmly in the corner on her laptop, not
even looking up at me. I wanted to have a tantrum like a two-year-old, just to
get her, or the doctor, or both to listen to me. I needed to get out of here.

“Grandma, please go ask them if Dr. Harris is coming
tonight.” She looked up at me over the bifocal part of her glasses and said, “I
already did, Molly, half an hour ago. The nurse said that he had an emergency
to tend to and then he would be here. I told you all of this dear. Asking again
is not going to change the answer.”