Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
I’ve never felt more useless, more fucking worthless, than I do right now. It’s the most humbling experience I’ve ever had. I would literally do anything to make her better and there is nothing I can do.
Not one single motherfucking thing.
“Will you cuddle with me?” Her voice is so soft, I barely hear it over Doc McStuffins or whatever her name is. “Please hold me.”
I stand and go to her, sitting at her feet. I lift her up and gently sit her on my lap, pulling her Tinkerbell blanket over her. I tuck it in around her little frame as she lays her head on my chest.
“This feels better,” she whispers.
“I’m glad.”
She lies quietly for a long time and I think she’s dozed off when she speaks again. “I have to go to the doctor tomorrow.”
“You do. They’re gonna start making you better.”
“I know it’s going to hurt.”
I squeeze her even tighter. I can’t refute it and I don’t want to lie to her.
“Will you come see me?” she asks.
“I will. And I’ll bring you taffy.”
“Bring me two pieces.”
“I’ll bring you four.”
Ever yawns and pulls her legs up against her. “When I’m better, will you take me to the beach?”
“I will. And we can go to the park every day.”
“You’ll take me every day?”
“Every day.”
“And to a baseball game?”
I laugh. “Baseball? Since when do you like baseball?”
“I think my daddy liked baseball.”
“He did. He liked the Red Sox. But I think you should like the Yankees.”
“Do you like the Yankees? Because if you do, I’ll like them both.” I chuckle, knowing if Gage was listening, he’d be having a fit. “I’m sleepy.”
“Go to sleep then.”
“Will you hold me while I sleep?” I smile.
“If you want me to.”
“I do.”
“Then I will.”
She snuggles against me, and I hold her as she falls asleep. For the next couple of hours, I pray to a God I don’t quite believe in.
TWENTY-SEVEN
JULIA
I’m grateful that Ever’s hospital room is at least a little appealing. The bright yellow walls and swirly designs seem playful and fun. Still, it’s a hospital room.
My daughter’s hospital room.
They’ve tried to make it as comfortable as possible for the both of us. What they can’t make comfortable, however, is the gnawing feeling in my stomach. That is what they can’t fix . . . until they fix Ever, anyway. I’m not even sure if that’ll go away completely once she’s better.
Do you ever relax after a diagnosis like this? Can you ever go back to that blissful, cancer-free life?
I look up at the clock. It’s right at noon. My stomach growls, but it’s more from anxiety than hunger, although I haven’t eaten in a few days, really.
I can’t get the sight of Ever being rolled back for the port procedure out of my mind. The port is a semi-permanent IV line that the doctors will use to give her medicine. It’s supposed to make things easier and more comfortable for her. They said it shouldn’t take long but it seems like it’s already taken too long.
I’m gonna have to get used to this. This is going to be the way it is for a while.
I’m sitting in a chair that reclines, situated next to where Ever’s bed is parked when it’s in here. There’s also a couch that turns into a makeshift bed. I’ll be spending at least the next six nights there because I won’t leave her. Not for a second.
I dig through my large bag and find my phone. I promised Mrs. Ficht I would call her back today and let her know I was okay. As I start to press the numbers, it vibrates in my hand.
Crew: You okay?
Me: They’re putting in the port now.
Crew: I’ll come by tonight.
Me: It’s okay.
Crew: I wish I was there now. I’m fucking sick.
Me: I’ll text you when I know something. Just waiting now. Guess I better get used to it.
Crew: I’m on break so I gotta get back. If you need something, call the dock. I put the number in your bag.
Curious, I sort through my bag again and find a baggie. I hold it in the air and see a folded piece of paper, a couple of granola bars, and a couple of twenty-dollar bills.
Me: I just found it. You didn’t have to do this.
Crew: See you tonight.
I press the bag against my chest. It feels odd to have someone thinking of me, but good at the same time. I fight off the anxiety that always rises when I consider Crew walking away again. I really don’t think he’ll leave us, at least not until Ever is better. Something’s changed in Crew.
I dial Mrs. Ficht and smile when I hear her voice. “Hello?”
“Hi, Valerie.”
“Oh, Julia. I’m so glad to hear your voice, sweetheart. How are you? How’s Everleigh?”
“I’m waiting on her to get out of surgery. They’re putting in her port now. They were wheeling her out when you called. I’m sorry I didn’t return your call sooner.”