Sharing Afflictions

Bridge Over Troubled Water

Thursday was uneventful as was most of Friday; then, late Friday afternoon, Rogue got a call from her doctor's office. I couldn't tell what it was about and she still wasn't sharing. Whatever it was about, it put her in a deep funk. I decided she needed some cheering up or at least a distraction. As much as I hate the crowds on a Friday night, I decided a nice dinner out was in order.

There is a really nice, family run restaurant not far from our apartment. It is small and intimate. It is even a bit romantic with table cloths, candles, soft music, and the like. Rogue usually tries to avoid places like this with me after the fiasco that occurred following our romantic dinner in San Francisco. This night, however, she was withdrawn and apathetic, and was going along with anything I suggested.

At the restaurant, we ordered wine with our meal. Rogue certainly seemed to need it. I was proud of myself for not diving in and asking her about the phone call. I figured talking about Pixie's and Ripley's problems would be a much safer distraction.

"You won't believe how serious Ripley is getting about Pixie?"

"What did he tell you?"

"He is talking about marriage and having a child with her."

"What?" she exclaimed. That clearly got her attention.

"I don't think Pixie is on board with any of this. Apparently, it came out at their dinner with her parents. Ripley seems really serious about it. He has even researched the implications of chemo on pregnancy. He mentioned that when I questioned the wisdom of starting a family with her in her condition."

Rogue kept trying to come up with something to say, but for the first time since I'd known her, she was at a loss for a response. I had clearly picked the right topic for a distraction. Finally, she sputtered, "Wha-what is he thinking? What would he do with a child if something happened to Pixie?"

"He thinks he would raise the child himself. That it would be a part of Pixie he could hold on to," I offered Ripley's explanation.

"That is insane," she said and paused waiting for me to agree. When I didn't answer immediately, she asked, "You do realize that's insane don't you?"

"Sure, but I also realize he is in love and love and insanity look a lot alike."

"You are identifying with him, aren't you?"

"A little, Maybe." I was not willing to admit any more than that.

"Chuck, remember – 'Precious and Few' is all we have and I don't think there is much time left so let's continue to keep it simple."

"Sure, okay," I said halfheartedly.

"Please," she implored.

I don't know what she expected me to say. My feelings toward her were not something I had much control over. I was not sure if the "not much time left" remark related to the phone call she had gotten that afternoon or the fact we had just three days left before her next scheduled treatment.

I was thinking even if we didn't get our mystery solved by her deadline, I was going to keep investigating. Even if she missed the next treatment, I would somehow convince her to resume treatments by solving the mystery myself. I was afraid, however, the call from her doctor was really bad news and time was running out.

I wanted to tell her, I'd be there for her, but I knew she did not want to hear it. In my head, I paraphrased a Simon and Garfunkel song,

"I will comfort you/ If only I could take your part, when darkness comes/ And pain is all around/ Just like a bridge over troubled water/ I can't let her drown."

#End Chapter Seventeen