“I just got home from the hospital,” she sniffled, her voice thick with tears.
“Yeah... what happened?” But in his heart, he already knew.
Her next words confirmed his worst fears. “It’s getting worse, Nick,” she sobbed. “My bloodwork this time around was bad, and my doctor ordered a bone marrow stat, and it showed thirty-five percent blasts. That means thirty-five percent cancer cells. Last time it was only twenty-five.” She dissolved into tears again.
Though he wasn’t entirely sure what those figures meant, just hearing the numbers climb made Nick’s blood run cold.
“God... I’m so sorry, Claire,” he said into the phone, feeling incredibly lame... but, come on, what was he supposed to say? Despite what they had in common, this was something he could not really relate to, especially when he had just given the good news that he was nearing remission.
“I’m sorry for calling you,” she said, “but I... I didn’t know who else to... to talk to, and you... well... you’re the only one who really understands. I haven’t called my parents yet...”
He cleared his throat. “It’s all right, Claire, I’m glad you called. I... I want to be there for you... the way you’ve been there for me.” He remembered how she had held his hand during his last bone marrow aspiration, visited him in the hospital, rubbed aloe on his sunburned scalp... she had done so much to make this easier for him, and he hadn’t done a damn thing for her, and now... well, he felt so helpless... what could he do? What could he say?
“Thanks, Nick,” she sobbed. “That mean so much to me... I’m so sorry for blubbering to you this way, but... I don’t know what I’m going to do... I... I’m so scared, Nick...”
Nick felt sick to his stomach, and he knew it was not because of the chemo. Claire, the very same Claire who had had the nerve to strike up a conversation with him in the middle of his very first chemo session, the Claire who had always spoken so casually about her cancer and the problems that went with it, was scared. And hearing her admit it made it all the more real to him. He had always sort of looked up to her in a way, admired her not only for having the knowledge and experience that he lacked, but for being so comfortable with herself and so able to talk about the kind of things he would be mortified to discuss. He had thought her brave. And he still did, but the girl sobbing over the phone, crying as if her very soul had shattered, was not the Claire he knew. It was as if the hero had fallen.
He had to do something. Be there, at least. Not on the phone, but in person. “Claire,” he said. “Do you want me to come over? I... I don’t want you to have to be alone.”
There was a pause in which her sniffling stopped, and then she replied in a tiny voice, “No, you don’t have to. You’re back on chemo now too, aren’t you? You probably feel like shit; I wouldn’t want you to-“
“Claire, I feel fine, and even if I was throwing up, it would be nothing compared to what you must be feeling,” Nick said. “I’m coming over.”
To some it might have been a sacrifice, leaving the comfort of your own bed and going to console a sobbing friend when you yourself weren’t feeling 100%. But to Nick, there was no choice in the matter.
He was going to Claire.
***
Half an hour later, Nick stood outside Claire’s apartment and knocked on the door. She answered right away, significantly calmer and more composed than she had sounded on the phone. Still, she looked a mess, her cheeks blotched with tearstains, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She was dressed sloppily in a pair of baggy gray sweat shorts and a red t-shirt that was ripped at the bottom. And, studying her, he noticed that she had removed the scarf she had been wearing around her head that morning.
He realized it was only the second time he had seen her without her head covered, and the sight of her pallid, perfectly bald head only added to her vulnerability. The bright, colored, sometimes even outrageous bandanas she always wore added vibrancy and life to her appearance, and now, seeing her without one, he noticed how pale her cheeks were and how dull her eyes suddenly seemed. It was as if the spirit had gone out of her, leaving behind just a hollow shell of the girl he had sat next to just hours before in the clinic waiting room.
Smiling through her tears, Claire wordlessly stepped back to let him enter. He did not walk past her, but instead wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a gentle hug. She nearly collapsed into his embrace, her body leaning into his chest, her head immediately finding his shoulder. He felt her whole back trembling as she began to cry again in his arms, and he silently ran his hand slowly up and down it, letting her do so.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, pulling back at looking up at him sheepishly.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said firmly, putting his arm around her and walking her into the living room. They sat down together on the couch, and Claire sighed, but did not say anything. There was an awkward silence for a few moments, until Nick finally went ahead and asked the question he’d been afraid to ask the whole time. “So...um... what’s the plan?”
Claire sighed again. “There’s really only one option at this point,” she said softly. “A bone marrow transplant.”
Nick nodded; he’d heard of bone marrow transplants before, but didn’t know much about what they entailed. “So,” he said, “how exactly would that work? Would you have to wait for a donor?”
“If none of my relatives are good matches, then yeah,” she replied. “They’ll test my family first.”
“When will they do that?”
“As soon as possible. Of course, I have to tell them first... God...”
“You should tell them today,” Nick said softly. “Let them know right away. Then at least you won’t have to worry about that on top of everything else, and I’m sure your parents will want to be with you.” How strange it was that he was telling her to do the very thing he had not done himself. He realized there were only two people he actually had told about his cancer himself – Brian and Brent. Everyone else that knew had been told by someone else – Brian had told the other Boys, Brent had filled in his other friends, and his family and everyone else in the world had found out on MTV.
“Yeah,” Claire said softly. “You’re right. I’ll call home later today. I...” She started to trail off, and Nick glanced curiously over at her to see that her face seemed to have gone even paler than before, if that was at all possible.
“Are you all right?” he asked apprehensively, and she slowly shook her head. She sat stock still for a moment, her mouth clamped shut, and then jumped up and took off, ducking into a room off the tiny hallway. Bathroom.
Moments later, muffled retching noises could be heard coming from behind the closed bathroom door. Just the sound made Nick feel very queasy himself, and he had a foreboding feeling he’d be next in line to puke his guts out in Claire’s toilet
The sound of flushing could be heard, and Claire stumbled out, looking slightly green. “Sorry,” she muttered weakly, sinking back down onto the couch beside him. “God, I can’t believe they’re still making me take chemo... the fucking stuff isn’t even working!” she cried, leaning over and resting her forehead against the heels of her hands.
“I know,” Nick whispered, lightly running his hand over her back again. “Do you want me to walk you back to your bed? Sleeping usually helps for me.”
She hesitated a moment, then replied, “I guess so. If you don’t mind.”
“’Course I don’t mind.” Smiling slightly, Nick stood up slowly and reached out a hand to help her up. She took it gratefully, and he pulled her up from the couch. Slinging an arm around her waist once again, he led her down the small hallway and through the other doorway.
Claire’s bedroom was small and cramped, but with the pale blue paint on the walls and the floaty white curtains billowing gently in front of the single window, it seemed more airy and spacious than it would have otherwise. A double bed took up most of the room, a dresser and desk being the only other furniture able to fit comfortably. Pulling down the cloud-patterned blue comforter and pale yellow sheets, Nick eased Claire down into the bed, where she immediately curled herself into the fetal position, hugging her knees to her chest and gazing plaintively up at him.
“You want the covers up?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “Too hot.”
“Okay.” Nick stood there in the center of the room, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot and wondering what he should do or say next, when all of a sudden, he felt it creeping up on him. The nausea. He let out a soft groan.
“Are you all right?” Claire questioned, and just when he was about to answer that he was fine, it hit him full force as it had done to her minutes earlier. He ran out of the room and into the bathroom across the narrow hall, flipped on the light, and dropped down in front of the toilet, already gagging. There was an explosion as he vomited atomically into the toilet, his body heaving with each miserable retch.
When he was finished, he flushed and wiped his mouth with toilet paper, then turned on the faucet at the sink and dipped his chin to it, rinsing his mouth. With a heavy sigh, he turned off the light and staggered out, his body weakened from the attack.
“Oh, Nick,” Claire whispered, looking up at him with sympathy in her eyes as he shuffled back into her room. “I’m so sorry for making you come over here, Nick. You should go home.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t make me come over; I wanted to,” he told her. “I’ll be okay. We’re in this together, right?” He offered her a weak smile, and she cracked one back.
“Right,” she whispered. “C’mere, Nick, come lie down on the bed.” Rolling over, she patted the empty space beside her and looked up at him expectantly.
Uneasy, he hesitated, and she laughed lightly. “Come on, it’s okay to lie on a girl’s bed without feeling like you have to have sex with her. We’re just friends; it’s cool, right?”
“I guess,” Nick smiled, the sound of her laughter comforting him.
“There you go,” she said as he kicked off his shoes and sank down onto the bed beside her. “Sorry, I was afraid you would pass out if I made you stand by my bed any longer. This is better, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he replied, lying back and rolling over to face her.
She smiled wanly at him. “Look at us... we’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” she said with a soft giggle.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Quite the pair.” He managed a smile in return, feeling more relaxed.
There was nothing to feel awkward about; they were friends, like Claire had said, and right now, they were seeing each other at their worst. Bald and pale, nauseated and throwing up, Claire crying, Nick worrying... they were both miserable, but misery loves company, and lying there, in the company of each other, things didn’t seem quite so bad.
***
