Chapter 52
1047 Words
Dean wrapped another blanket around Emma, feeling helpless. Even though her face was burning up, she was freezing; her body was shaking so hard, the whole bed was rattling. She moaned and clutched the edges of the blanket, trying to pull it closer and tighter.
She closed her eyes.
He sat next to her and took her hand. He couldn’t do anything about the poison being pumped through her veins and flooding her small body, but he could let her know that she wasn’t all alone.
“Baby? Can you hear me?”
She opened her eyes a bit and nodded.
“You want some water?”
“N–n–no,” she managed to get out between her chattering teeth. “Thanks.”
They stayed like that for a while, not talking. Suddenly Emma sat straight up and gasped. “Dean…”
He grabbed the bucket from the bedside table and held it for her as she vomited. He put his hand on her back, holding her steady as she heaved and retched, over and over. She caught her breath, vomited again. With trembling fingers he stroked her hair off her hot forehead and murmured to her that she was OK. Her whole body was tense under his hands and he rubbed her back and shoulders, trying to calm her down.
I’d do f*****g anything for it to be me instead… anything to spare her this.
She crumpled, going limp under his hands. Carefully, he eased her back down to the bed and she opened her eyes. They were glazed with confusion and hurt, and his heart damn near broke in half.
He rinsed her face gently, pulled her up and into his arms, gave her a few ice chips. She leaned on his chest, no strength in her body at all. He rocked her back and forth, felt her breath slow. Then she started to throw up again.
When she finally fell into a restless sleep, Dean went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. He got the feeling it was going to be a long night. As he stood and drank it, he thought about Liv, Kat and Jenny, and shook his head as he realized that they had been through this over and over again with Emma. His admiration and affection for them went up another few notches: they were great women, great friends.
He heard a knock at the door and went to answer. Dallas stood there, looking worried.
“Thought I’d check in. How’s the post-chemo going?”
Dean waved him in. “f*****g terrible, man. She’s been puking for four hours straight. Sleeping now, but I can’t say for how long.”
“Goddammit,” Dallas said softly. “This disease is a motherfucker.”
“Yeah.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “She just keeps getting her ass kicked, you know? Yesterday she felt almost like herself and she was cooking and laughing, today she can’t even sit up without my help. It’s just unbelievable that the medicine that’s actually helping her is what’s doing this to her.”
“I know. You want to take a break? I can stay for a while.”
“No, it’s OK, thanks anyway. I want to do this for her… I want to really know what she’s been through these past few months while we were together. I just – I still can’t believe she was dealing with all of this and never said a word.”
“She’s tough, man.”
“Yeah, she is. I just hope she’s tough enough.” He looked down the hallway. “There’s still worse to come.”
****
A few days later, Jim walked up the steps to Dean’s porch. The door was open and he knocked on the frame.
“Emma? Hey, Emma? It’s Jim.”
There was no answer. Alarmed, he stepped into the house.
“Emma? You here?”
More silence.
Fuck. Is she passed out cold somewhere?
“Emma!”
“I’m here.”
Relieved, he barrelled down the hallway towards her voice. He passed the bathroom, something caught his eye, he backed up.
Oh, s**t. Oh, no.
She was standing and staring in the mirror. Massive clumps of her beautiful hair were in the sink; Jim saw bald patches on her head. She looked devastated.
“Oh, Emma,” he said. “Oh, sweet thing. You OK?”
She looked at him. “Yeah. Yeah. I mean, it’s just hair, right?”
He was silent, knowing full well there was a hell of a lot more to it than just that.
Emma looked at herself again. She lifted her fingers to her hair, tugged. Another huge chunk came away in her hand, and she burst into tears.
Without even one second of thought, Jim stepped into the bathroom and took her in his arms. “OK, sweetheart, it’s OK. Come here.”
She clutched his back, shaking all over. He closed his eyes and swore under his breath.
This f*****g disease. It just never stops breaking her heart. Dean’s, too. All of ours.
He held her until her small body went still against his chest, then he pulled back and looked at her. He’d never seen her look so broken, and it killed him that she was at that point. It was like her dignity was being stripped from her, one small thing at a time, and she was dangerously close to losing the will to fight. What Jim wanted more than anything was to help her find that fire again, to give her that fierce want to just live.
“What can I do, Emma? Tell me.”
She gazed up at him, thinking. “There is one thing.”
“Name it.”
“Can you take me to the hair salon where Kat works?”
He paused. “Yeah.”
“OK.” She gave a shuddering sigh. “Let’s go.”
“What are we going to do there?” He knew the answer, of course, but he still asked.
“We’re going to cut it.” She smiled, and he felt relief when he saw that she looked like herself again. “We’re cutting it all off.”
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