Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Everyone except for me had family with them to help them through. I wasn’t bitter about it in the slightest, and I knew my mom would be here if she could be, but I was…I was lonely. If it wasn’t for Susan, I had no doubts that the dark thoughts that were trying to break through would have won. Dr. Duncan had kept me on my antidepressants, and I was trying to be positive—I really was. But when your health declined, it was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I coughed one more time into the bucket, then sat up. “I’m just peachy. Never felt better,” I said to Susan and gave her a wink.
She rolled her eyes, used to my antics by now, but I was also sure she saw straight through them. She helped me into a sitting position and pressed the cold cloth to my forehead.
“That feels amazing,” I said, as I prayed that my stomach would calm just for an hour so I could try and sleep. I hadn’t slept well the past couple of days.
“Take a sip,” Susan said and handed me a glass with a straw. I sipped the water, and it felt perfect as it soothed my scratchy throat and dry tongue. She handed me a small cup of meds, and I knocked that cocktail back and winced as I fought to make them go down. “There was an anti-nausea pill in there too. Hopefully that’ll kick in and give you some relief.” Susan retrieved the dirty sick bucket like the saint she was and went into the bathroom. As she hummed cleaning out the bucket, tears pricked behind my eyelids.
God, I missed my mom. My mom would hum as she cleaned too. She’d read her book at my bedside while I recovered from the latest round of chemo. I missed my little sisters clamoring for my attention. I closed my eyes and fought back the sinking emotions again. I couldn’t break. I couldn’t. But I was a people person, and I was struggling with all this time alone. One thing I didn’t want was time to dwell and think about what would happen if this trial didn’t work. Nothing good came from all that time in my own head. And I needed this treatment to work.
It had to.
Susan came out of the bathroom and a lump thickened in my throat. As if she could see me fighting back my sudden emotion, she laid her hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing amazing, Jesse. You’re being so strong.”
“Yeah?” I croaked, still unable to open my eyes. A stray tear fell anyway. I felt it escape the corner of my right eye, and the familiar texture of leather was suddenly under my hand. I tried to smile in appreciation, knowing Susan had given me my football. I blinked my eyes open and straightened my shoulders.
As I met Susan’s gaze, she said, “Yes.”
The sound of my phone vibrating on the bedside table pulled my attention. When a picture of me, my mom and two sisters filled the screen, the heaviness on my chest lifted like a balloon.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Susan said, tapping my hand. “Buzz if you need me.”
“Thank you,” I said, as I quickly wiped my eyes and accepted the video call.
“Jesse!” my sister Emily greeted. Her blond hair looked lighter than it did a week ago when I left McIntyre.
“Hey, baby girl,” I said, just as Emily screeched at being pushed aside, and my youngest sister’s face filled the screen.
“Jesse!” Lucy said. “I’ve been making you a card—”
“Shh!” Emily hissed. “That was meant to be a secret!”
“Oh…yeah,” Lucy said, grimacing. “Oh well!”
I laughed, the sound doing more for my weak body than the meds had just done. The phone was pulled away from the ankle biters and my mom’s face came into view. The minute she saw me, her smile fell.
“You’re in pain,” she said, knowing exactly how to read me like only mothers can.
“I’m okay,” I said. It was true. Seeing my family had immediately lifted my mood. They made me feel stronger. Made me remember why I was here. I owed my mom so much.
“Baby…” my mom said, and I saw tears fill her eyes. “I wish I could be there. Maybe…” She trailed off, and I could see she was thinking something through in her head.
“No,” I said, and she met my eyes. “I’m okay. You can’t lose your job.” I hated the way her bottom lip trembled. I couldn’t imagine what this was like for her. I knew she thought she’d let me down by not coming to the ranch, but that just wasn’t true.
She nodded, but I could see guilt plastered all over her face, along with exhaustion and stress. I hated what my illness and absence was doing to her.