The next morning, I was at the hospital again.
Auden and River had come with me. Warren had asked if I wanted him to come, and I decided not. Our relationship was still trying to grow. I was just getting my blood drawn for lab work, I figured it would be a quick trip. However, I definitely wanted him there for my next round of chemotherapy, and he knew that.
I flinched when the phlebotomist pierced my skin with the needle. She had been gentle and careful but I felt it. Perhaps more than I should have. She glanced at my bruised arm in question and I explained that I might have anemia. A few minutes after my blood was drawn, an ugly bruise formed there. I could see it from beneath the small patch of gauze and tape.
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in Dr. Welch's office.
He walked in with a clipboard on his forearm and a white lab coat that trailed behind him. It was a stereotypical image of a doctor, and I hated it. As much as I trusted him with my life, I just didn't like anything related to hospitals anymore. Even the smell was imprinted in my mind.
Dr. Welch asked me questions about my symptoms, how my body was responding to the chemo, my diet, and if I was taking my painkillers. It felt monotone and meaningless. He confirmed that I did have an onset of severe anemia. My red blood cell count was depleted, and that's why I had been feeling exhausted; there wasn't enough oxygen-rich blood in my body.
As for my late period, it was normal to experience an irregular or temporarily absent period during chemotherapy. In fact, Dr. Welch had said it was better that I wasn't having my menstrual period because it could make the anemia life-threatening. It felt weird discussing womanly things with a male doctor but I had three older brothers, so it wasn't completely new to me.
"I will have a prescription ordered for you and you can pick it up by the end of the day. It is just additional iron that will help with the onset of anemia--"
"But will it cure it?" I cut him off.
Dr. Welch observed me. His following words were careful. "Aida, there isn't a magic pill. I can only supplement what your body is lacking in these instances. However, there is no cure for canc--"
I abruptly rose to my feet. "I want to leave," was the only thing I could think to say. I was already heading for the door. No one stopped me.
"Thank you, Dr. Welch," I heard River say before being out of earshot. I was aware that Auden followed me.
No cure for cancer.
Those words wouldn't stop haunting me. I hardly paid attention as my aching legs carried me down the winding hallways of the hospital and then I was on the front street. It wasn't my lucky day because there was a crowd. Paparazzi or news reporters, it didn't matter to me. They had to be piecing it together, my withdrawal, my hospital visits, why I wasn't dancing.
Their shouted questions confirmed it.
"Is it true you've been diagnosed with terminal cancer?"
"Do you still plan to dance at Broadway in six days?"
"Essence of Motion has just confirmed that you will no longer be affiliated with them? Do you have any comment about that?"
"Aida Valiveo!"
Yes, they had come to see her. Except, with each passing day, I felt less and less like her. I was fading with my health.
Auden was there and he tried to shelter me from the attacks. There were so many cameras flashing, I knew my embarrassing face would be on the front page of New York Times tomorrow. Even when you didn't want people to find out about something, they would. People would do anything for five minutes of fame.
River held open the passenger door of his car, and I slipped inside. I didn't burst into tears. I didn't feel my heart racing. I sat there in a brief moment of silence and felt nothing.
My brothers slipped into the vehicle.
"Are you alright?" Auden asked, gently.
"Why am I doing this?" I whispered, my eyes focused elsewhere. I didn't bother to gauge their reactions. "Why does any of this matter?"
A pause. "What do you mean?"
"There's no cure," I said, as if it was the answer to everything.
River moved. His hand grasped mine. "Aida, listen to me. Right now." When I didn't meet his eyes, he reached out with his other hand and turned my chin. Our gazes were polar opposites. His was on fire, whilst I was cooling in defeat. "Just because there isn't a medical cure, does not mean that your body can't be the cure. People beat cancer. Nobody can explain it, but people beat it and they get better and they live their life."
"What if it isn't me?"
"Why can't it be you?" His words were posing a sharp edge, one that wouldn't cut me, but it cut down the listless veil I had thrown over my eyes. "All I hear from you right now is negative, and that kind of mindset won't help you. If there's one person in this entire world that needs to believe in you, and believe that you can beat this... it's you."
I didn't think about the next words out of my mouth. "I can't believe in a dying girl."
Auden sucked in a sharp breath.
"Enough!" River snapped. A darkness flitted across his features, and I watched it without batting an eyelid. Why was I so numb? So willing to accept the worst? "I understand that this is difficult for you to deal with, and I want to help you with everything I am capable of, but this? Aida, you're making it impossible for anyone to help you. By believing the worst, you won't get better."
I shrunk a little. River had been so patient, but this seemed to touch a nerve with him, and I knew he was right. I wasn't helping myself, I was making it worse. I just didn't know why my thoughts were stuck in this rut, it was like I couldn't control it. "I'm sorry," I uttered.
He exhaled, long and hard. His eyes closed and he seemed to douse the fire within himself because when his eyes opened again, he was calm. "Don't be, okay? I don't mean to lose my temper. I should apologize."
"No, you're right," I admitted, "I don't know what's going on in my head. I felt emotional when he was talking and then I just didn't feel anything at all. I don't even know if that makes sense, but his words got to me."
I didn't realize he hadn't let go of my hand until he gently ran his thumb over my knuckles. A gesture so tender, my heart hurt. I didn't deserve his comfort, not after I told him what I did. That I was just a dying girl. "Don't let people get to your head, they will ruin it. You're the one that has to live with your mind, so protect it."
"Sometimes I feel like everyone keeps taking."
"Then don't give them anything to take."
There was a pause. "I'm sorry I said that to you," I said quietly.
"Stop apologizing. I'm glad you were honest with me," He only said, "I'd rather you not lie when something hurts you."
I nodded.
River turned the keys in the ignition and his car came to life. I realized that Auden hadn't spoken a single word since he had asked if I was alright, and clearly I wasn't. As the car pulled away from the curb into the city traffic, I gazed at Auden in the reflection of the mirror.
His gaze was focused outside the window.
But I saw the tear that slid down his cheek.
☼ ☼ ☼
When we got back from the hospital, I saw someone I wasn't expecting.
I hadn't seen Lucy in three days.
She was standing by my apartment door and she must have just knocked before we stepped off the elevator because Warren opened the door. She looked at him and then looked back at me. Something in her expression made me wary, and my steps slowed.
"Aida, I'm so sorry," She said. I stopped.
River and Auden slipped by my friend and entered the apartment. They knew that I would want a moment of privacy, but they wouldn't be far if I needed them.
"I heard about what happened to you, and I'm sorry," She continued.
"It wasn't you who did it," I replied.
"Mrs. Jules... she shouldn't have done it like that."
"Then how should have she? Because I don't think there's a single way she could have told me that I was a piece of trash any less hurtful."
Lucy sighed, conflict in her eyes. "Would it have been better if I told you?"
"No, I wouldn't have believed you."
She nodded. "How have you been doing?"
I gazed at her for a moment and then I tilted my head towards the open apartment door. She followed me inside, my brothers were respectfully nowhere in sight. We took seats on my couch. "Could be better. This isn't exactly how I planned my life to go," and then I paused before I asked, "How's practice been?"
I wanted her to tell me that she had a dance partner, I just wanted her to admit the truth. Some part of me was still hurt that she wouldn't tell me about the changes at the studio, except for the Mrs. Jules and Eliana part.
Lucy's expression flattened with uncertainty. Her eyes softened into an emotion I had grown to hate as of late. "Aida," She began quietly, "I don't think we should discuss the studio anymore."
My spine straightened. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I just think you should let it go."
Let it go.
Those words ignited an angry fire within me, one that blazed on the broken pieces of my former self. It had me on my feet, fists tightened, as I stared down at my friend. "How dare you say that!" I didn't even know where my sharp words came from, but I couldn't stop myself. I was possessed by the pain. "I'm just trying to be a good friend and ask you about your life! You don't even want to tell me that you've been partnered with Ilya? That's huge! Am I that meaningless to you now?"
She stood, eyes focused on me. There was a flicker of hurt in her eyes, one I chose to ignore. "It's not like that! I do want to tell you, but you don't need this--"
"Need what?" I snapped.
"This, Aida!" She spoke desperately, "You don't need to keep ripping off the scab of a wound that's trying to heal. Every time you ask me about the studio, whether you realize it or not, I can see how much it hurts you."
"I'm not--" my body is hurting me, was what I had intended to say but I stopped. For the breath of a second, I let irrationality consider the truth, and then my emotions took over. "We always talk about practice. Always, Lucy. That's the only familiar thing to me and it gives me joy--"
"Not anymore," She cut me off with a withdrawn sigh.
I stared at her, speechless. How could she hurt me like this? "So you're just going to cut me off? Toss me aside? Just because I can't dance anymore, I don't deserve to know about my best friend's ballet?"
I knew my words hurt her the moment she took a step back. It was an emotional moment that both of us weren't benefiting from. I was angry at the world, and chose not to see it from her perspective. She still took a deep breath, and said, "I'm not cutting you off. I just want you to focus on getting better, and not dwell on the past."
The past?
"Get out."
"Aida, listen to me," She ignored me, and continued with a solemn voice, "I'm not trying to hurt you. Trust me, I would never. But every time you ask me about practice, there's grief in your eyes. You're hurting yourself and I feel horrible telling you about the studio because then I'm hurting you, too."
I was too emotional and upset to actually listen to the truth in her words. My heart had been bruised enough today. I was strung up on a fraying thread, ready to snap in the next breath and plummet to the ground for an impending death.
"Get out."
"Aida--"
"I said," I heaved a terrifyingly calm breath, "Get out, Lucy."
She stared at me a moment longer. Her expression was conflicted, as she unconsciously chewed on her lower lip, and then she nodded. "Alright, but you know I'm right."
She left and the slam of my front door echoed through the entire apartment.
☼ ☼ ☼
An hour later, I knew she was right.
She had told me so. It was so much harder to hear the truth than for someone to tell me sweet lies. I wanted her to support me, as she always did, and I hadn't realized that a true friend will speak up when something wasn't right. They will tell you when something needs to change.
I was hurting myself.
Every day, I mourned the loss of my athletic and sturdy legs. A piece of me had been ripped away and I was left bleeding and broken on the very floor I had once danced upon. I tossed and turned at night, hoping it was all a nightmare, and I would wake up to my alarm clock. I prayed that I could roll out of my bed tomorrow morning and head out to practice at the studio. I would practice my pirouette until I was steady as a rock, and I would daydream about Broadway.
But that's all it was now, a dream.
One I had been woken from.
It was difficult dealing with the influx of emotions. They came like an angry ocean with twelve-foot waves and a terrifying riptide below. There wasn't a safe place to just tread water, I could barely keep air in my lungs. Every wave came from any direction, whether it brought anger or joy or indifference, and I was helpless to keep it from washing over my head.
Sometimes I cried all night, and other times I wouldn't cry at all.
These were the least of my worries, though, as I knew my body was fighting a battle with every single inhale and exhale. I didn't know if I was winning and I didn't know if I was losing. My health had dipped, but didn't that always happen right before the battle is won? I hoped it was true, for the sake of all past conversations for me to believe in the better.
River was the rationality that left my head when I struggled. He knew how to bring me down from a very steep edge. Auden was the person who would give me his entire heart if it meant I could live to see at least fifty more sunrises. Warren was still working on trying to help but I found his presence as calming as a weighted blanket. His shadow was the knight in dented armor that I needed when the battle went south.
I closed my eyes. After Lucy had left, the three of us had been watching another episode of Lucifer. It was my second favorite show. My head drifted down to rest on someone's shoulder, and their arm wrapped around me to keep me steady. I inhaled, knowing it wasn't River.
Auden had chosen the armchair when we had first settled.
I took that knowledge and snuggled closer to Warren.
☼ ☼ ☼
It just keeps getting harder.
These recent chapters are original ones that had brought Accolade into existence, but now I feel like they are sucking the life from me. Who decided this book needs written?