Model Perfect

Chapter 12: The Rescuer

Dread is the one word to describe going to the doctor. I remember when I was six years old and I broke my foot while playing soccer. My dad took me, and he held my hand the whole time. He was there for me during the X-rays, and he was there when they bandaged my foot. I miss being six years old. My parents were on better speaking terms and I was there the whole world.

Then the agents came and replaced my parents. Freddie became my father figure and came to my appointments. And no one questioned if any of this was normal or healthy.

Dread is what I feel in my body and bones. It rattles me up and trembles my insides. The results of my biopsy will be announced today. I touch my throat and feel the lump. It's as large as a small bouncy ball. It's the ball in my neck, and I want nothing more than it to shrink and leave me alone.

I am Emma Rhodes, the model at Model Perfect. Models must be perfect and show off a glamorous life that doesn't really exist. In an imperfect world, that strives for the perfect. The world tells us who we are and what we know. And what I know is this lump, is my doom. It could lift me up or tear me down depending on my test results.

I sit in a small chair at the back of the doctor's office. The ticking of the clock is agony, and every strike of the clock makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. The door opens and a nurse calls my name.

I return to the very room the biopsy took place. The doctor waltzes in and places his hands on mine. The news isn't going to be what I want to hear.

"Emma, look at me please." It takes everything in me to look at him. If I find his eyes, the truth I have been dreading will be revealed. I stall a little and don't find his eyes. I want the innocence of not knowing to last for a moment longer. My eyes find his. They are hidden behind round speckles that extend past his nose.

"Emma, the results for your biopsy have come in. You have thyroid cancer. There are many forms of treatment we can discuss. The number one solution is to remove the thyroid entirely by surgery. I will give you time to process this news. I am sorry, I know this is not something you want to hear. It is treatable and you can have a normal life again. If you removed your thyroid, there are medicines out there you can take to replace the hormones your thyroid makes. It is manageable. We don't have to decide today. I know it's a lot to take it."

The doctor hugs me and I don't hug back. I'm frozen in my chair. I've become a magnet stuck to a fridge. It will take a lot of convincing to get me out of my shock. I, Emma Rhodes, have cancer and at the worst possible time, the start of my modeling career.

The medical staff helps me on my feet. I don't cry, I can't knowing cameras are probably rolling. Instead, I'm numb and screaming on the inside. My inner lion is clawing away with its paws, each nail digs a little bit deeper than the last.

I manage to get my phone out of my purse. As I am scrolling through my phone a sad truth hits me, I have no friends. I look through my contacts list again and remember Arlo's name in my phone is concealed by his phone alias, Ashley. I text him.

Me: Arlo can you help me?

Arlo: Where are you?

Me: At the ENT clinic on Broadway.

Arlo: Sure. I'm near there.

Arlo arrives in ten minutes. Those ten minutes were me gasping for air in the deep end, and his car pulling up is the floatation device to my rescue. I feel like a Titanic victim searching for the Carpathia in the open icy waters of the Atlantic.

When my rescuer appears, relief comes over me. The realization that I can tell someone the truth about my cancer, especially Arlo the boy whose very mother died of thyroid cancer.

I open the door with my head down. Leaving my car at the doctor's office overnight is my only option. I will get it later.

"Are you okay, Emma? I see your car is parked here."

I can't look at him. If I see those baby browns and that smile, I will lean over and cry into his shoulder sleeve. My shoulders tremble and a gentle hand finds them.

"Look you don't have to tell me what's wrong. I'm just glad you asked me to help you. You want some ice cream or a coffee?"

"Sure." I whimper in the softest of voices.

Arlo pulls up to Mcdonald's and orders me a small fry and an ice cream. I eat them quickly, I guess bad news makes me hungry. He doesn't know I'm not allowed to eat this food. If he did, he would make me eat it anyway just to spite Freddie. Freddie needs a little rebel in his life sometimes.

We pull into his house. I walk into his house. His parents aren't home. He hands me his hoodie and a blanket. He sits beside me on the couch. His arm is around my shoulder, it has been trembling since the doctor's office. It's a nervous tick by now.

"What's wrong, Emma? Why did you call me instead of Hunter or Rosa?" He puts my hair behind my ear.

"Because they don't understand what I am about to say like you do." I take a deep breath.

"Okay, go on."

"The doctor performed a biopsy on my thyroid last week....and today...in his office. He told me...I have thyroid...cancer."

A tear rolls down my face and Arlo catches it with his thumb. He hands me a tissue and I put my head into his shoulder. The shoulder I've needed to lean into this whole time. I cry and he lets me. He let's the water fly from my eyes and doesn't judge me. His arms are assurance that I can get through this.

"Thanks for telling me. You remember what I said about my mom, then. I wasn't able to help her, but I can help you. I will help you get through this, Emma Rhodes if its the last thing I do." He pulls me away from his shoulder and our eyes me. I wipe the remaining tears away with his hoodie sleeve, and when I'm done I find Arlo's lips on mine. He pulls away startled that he kissed me, he wasn't expecting it either. I close my eyes and let our lips touch. It's magic, its comfort, and its safer than being with Hunter.