Jake leaned over the side of the bed, throwing his guts up into a bedpan. Cara was sitting on the bed holding the bedpan with one hand and caressing his back with the other. He had been home one week, since his first dose of chemotherapy. While he had been in the hospital, his parents had moved all his belongings back into their house, and gave his landlord notice that he would be moving. They claimed that it would be easier for everyone to care for him, if everyone was in one house, he’d never be alone. Cara even moved in, and now they shared the basement of his parent’s home. Nick and Jake took turns running their business as well as Riverdale Ink. Sam made it her duty to be Jake’s personal nutritionist. Which was pretty humorous considering she usually burnt toast, but he had to give her credit, she made a mean smoothie and could work a juicer like it was nobody’s business. So many changes were taking place on his behalf, and in the darkest of days he felt he was blessed.
Jake didn’t understand what the point of coming home to rest was. He felt worse since he had been discharged. He was beginning to feel like he was knocking on death’s door, and couldn’t fathom what the second dose of chemo would do to him. He lifted his head, and felt the room spin. He didn’t know what he was throwing up at this point, he hadn’t been able to hold anything down. Every smoothie, every morsel of food, he would regurgitate.
Cara continued to caress his back with one hand. “Do you have to let more out?” She asked, there wasn’t a hint of agitation in her voice. He managed to shake his head. “I’m going to the bathroom to flush this, I’ll be right back.”
She took the bed pan and went into the bathroom that was attached to their now make shift bedroom, emptying its contents before flushing it. She threw the bedpan into the bathtub and poured some Lysol into it before soaking it in water. She was accustomed to this routine, and managed to hustle. She grabbed a towel off the rack on the wall and dampened it with some cold water. She wrung it out before heading back to Jake who was struggling to sit up on the bed.
“Wait. Let me help you.” She stammered, and tripped over her own two feet as she hurried to get to him. She caught herself before she fell.
“Cara stop, please!” Jake begged. He couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he looked like shit, but my God, so did she. She had bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Her hair looked like she hadn’t brought a comb through it in days, and he was pretty sure she had worn the same thing for the last two days. She froze like a statue, at his tone and he wanted to kick himself. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled.
“It’s fine.” She forced her feet to take the steps that were needed to close the distance between them and pressed the cool compress to his forehead. “Do you want to try and shower, maybe you will feel better? I will help you.”
He looked at her for a moment, and pulled the compress from his head. He threw it onto the night table and took her hand. “I’m okay, baby. Please I need you to do something for yourself.”
“There’s nothing I need to do for myself.”
“Cara, you look like you haven’t slept in days. I can’t even run my fingers through your hair because they’ll get stuck.” He said softly and squeezed her hand with as much strength as he could muster up.
She looked as if he had just struck her with his hand, and he closed his eyes. He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, she had been incredible the last couple of weeks. He couldn’t have asked for a better woman to be by his side, but she was so wrapped up in caring for him that she was letting herself fall apart. What scared Jake most was that she didn’t even realize it. Gone was the beautiful vibrant Cara, and it was all, his fault. He may be the one to die ultimately, but she was the one dying on the inside.
Jake opened his eyes and stared into her hazel eyes. “I love you, Cara and you’ve been incredible, but I need you to take time out for yourself.”
“If I’m too overbearing, I’ll stop. I just want to make you comfortable. I’ll give you some space.” She rambled on.
“No, you’ve been wonderful. Please I’m not saying any of that.” He paused and debated on whether or not to admit everything freely. She hated when he spoke pessimistically, but the truth needed to be spoken. “Cara we don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I’m fighting with everything in me to kick this, but we both know I might not make it.” His voice was hoarse but he held a firm ground as he spoke. Her eyes began to water instantly as the dread reared its ugly head. “I might be on borrowed time right now, and each day I’m given is a gift. I want you and me to live each day like it’s the last one we’ll have. I don’t want to die watching your spirit die right along with me.”
She covered her face with her hands and he heard her sob. He leaned forward, finding a new found strength and took her hands delicately in his. Her head lifted and she looked up at him, tears streaming her face. “Please don’t talk like that. Please don’t talk like you’re dying.” She pleaded.
“But I might be.” He said honestly. “And that’s something we have to face.” He tucked a strand of her wild hair behind her ear. “I’m not giving up, but we both know I don’t have control over the end result.”
“I thought we decided that we were going to strictly focus on recovery. We weren’t going to talk about what ifs.” She stared at him, her face drained.
“And after today, we won’t okay? But we’re going to get something straight. We’re in this together right?”