What he didn't know was what I had been in denial about for weeks. I was pregnant. Azmir and I went without birth control since The Bahamas. I don't know what I was thinking or that I was thinking at all. This is the only man that I felt close enough to—to trust without a condom. Tyquan, I didn’t trust—I was just stupid. This Azmir made me forget to put one foot in front of the other to walk each time I was in his intoxicating presence. I was caught up in such impulsive realms with him that I didn't think.
It was August, my breasts were enlarged and mornings were filled with vomiting and queasiness. I spent very little nights with Azmir because Michelle's condition had become so shaky. I hadn't taken a pregnancy test because of all the things that were going on in my life at such an accelerated speed. I didn't have time for another inconvenient truth. My period was weeks late and I wouldn't stress Michelle with this, she was sick herself. It tore me to pieces when I reflected on how polar her health was to just a month ago. And I couldn't handle turning Azmir off with this. Things were too calm between us. He had been so helpful and understanding with Michelle. He paid for her home healthcare when I needed time away for professional travel.
My hips had begun to spread so quickly. Sex with Azmir had slowed down tremendously because I couldn't bear him finding out. He was so underneath me, demanding to spend so much time together that it made me wonder if he had sensed it. But I didn’t want to be Tara. I wrestled with the question, would he try to deny mine, too?
Your heart senses things that your mind cannot comprehend. I felt in my heart he wouldn't, we were so connected. He was so attentive and consistent. But I still had those looming fears of him coming up short. I dealt with it as I do all other things I can’t deal with—I distanced myself from him. I ran.
Weeks after that club incident, I had taken Michelle to see her oncologist. After he entered the exam room, he grabbed the rolling stool, sat on it and scooted close to Michelle. A chill traveled my spine.
He grabbed her hand, “Michelle…dear, according to your biopsy not only has the cancer returned but the bastard has metastasized amok. Sweetheart, there’s nothing more we can do. As you can see, with in current condition, another round of chemotherapy can wipe you out. Your body cannot withstand that.”
You could tell he spoke regrettably but it still was a terrible blow. My knees buckled. A tear fled my dear friend’s eye and her bottom lip quivered as she forced a smile to her face. I could tell the news hit her hard, but she was still in fight mode. She was such an optimist. I jumped up and abruptly left the room. I couldn’t let her see me cry, she didn’t need that.
From that moment on Michelle began preparing paperwork for a will. One day I walked in the house with groceries and saw what I initially thought was an elderly woman at the dining room table writing. My senses quickly came to me and I realized Michelle’s physical condition. She went from weighing 125 lbs to a mere 82. She was literally all skin and bones…a skeleton. She walked with a cane and couldn’t stand upright. She had no facial hair or that of her head. She wore turbine-like wraps to keep her head warm. Her skin took on a yellowish tone with the exception of the deep shade of brown half circles underneath her eyes. Her teeth protruded through her lips as the fat ebbed away.
She had succumbed to her disease.
Fucking cancer.
“What are you doing out of bed?” I reprimanded.
She slowly turned to face me as I was trekking past her heading to the kitchen. When she turned she really resembled an old woman as she slowly lifted her arm to wipe her running nose. She managed a smile and murmured, “I needed a change of scenery.” Her words were labored.
“When is Britni coming to pick up her makeup bag? It’s been three days. Can she really go that long without it?” I asked trying to break my bleak thoughts of Michelle’s condition.
Britni and April were dedicated to Michelle’s care, which surprised me. I didn’t believe they could stop thinking of themselves long enough to care for someone else. They pleasantly proved me wrong.