I find strange comfort in the fact that my best friend knows me so well. I don’t have to tell Nissa that something is wrong; she just knows. Neither of us says as much, but her actions, her visage, her mannerism speaks as loudly as a bullhorn on a silent, starry night.
“I have cancer,” I begin steadily. I pause only briefly, not wanting to get bogged down in the sorrow of my circumstance. I’d much rather lose myself in the hope of what’s to come. “It’s bad. Terminal. That’s why Nate took me to Europe for three months. I didn’t want to tell you before we left. That would be the suckiest best friend bomb ever.”
Like Nissa, I attempt flippancy.
Also like Nissa, I fail miserably.
Not only is Nissa not laughing, but she’s retracted both of her hands and is now covering her mouth with them.
Instantly, her eyes fill with tears. They overflow her lashes and roll in a steady stream down over her knuckles. From there, they drip noiselessly onto the table top.
I continue before she can become any more distraught.
“The good news is that I’m pregnant.”
Smiling, I stop there, giving my words time to sink in. I know my sweet friend will be completely astonished by this entire conversation, but after a day or so, she’ll be the supportive person I’ve always known her to be.
“You-you’re pregnant?” Nissa’s jaw goes slack, her mouth hanging open in the shape of a hollow oval.
I nod.
“But Nate… What about the other woman? I know it was probably nothing, but don’t you think you should—”
“He was meeting with my oncologist, Nissa. That’s all it was. He told me.”
“Oh.” After a few seconds of digesting that information, she continues baldly. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to try to carry this baby.”
My happiness falters as noticeably as my smile. I can feel it, the tremble of trying forcibly to keep it in place. “I am.”
“Lena, what the hell are you thinking? You need treatment! This isn’t the Middle Ages. Cancer isn’t 100% incurable. There are hundreds if not thousands of medications and immune enhancers and all sorts of shit they could give you. You’re the nurse here. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
“No, you’re not. But Nissa, I’ve seen this before. I lived it with my sister and my father. There’s a point when it’s better to just live your life. Go for the quality rather than the quantity. Unfortunately, that’s where I am.”
“Well, if it wasn’t, it will be now. You certainly can’t take any treatment if you’re pregnant.”
Nissa gets up from the table and takes her coffee mug to the sink, angrily dumping the contents down the drain and rinsing the cup to stick in the dishwasher. When it is stowed away alongside the other dirty dishes, she sets her hands on either side of the sink and bends one knee, her hips shifting to one side in that way she has when she’s getting frustrated with her kids. Like she’s at her wits’ end.
Only this time, she’s frustrated with me.
I wonder briefly, sort of comically if Nissa is going to turn around and shake her finger at me.
Without facing me, Nissa asks, “What does Nate say about this?”
“He’s supportive. He wants what I want.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m betting he’d much rather have you around for the next forty years than risk your life for a child you may or may not even be able to carry.” Bitterness drenches her voice. I know she can’t say the same thing about her own husband, which breaks my heart.
Still, I’m more than a little taken aback by Nissa’s irritation. It hurts, more than I would’ve expected, to hear the disapproval in my closest confidant’s voice, to feel the harsh slap of her condemnation when I’d expected nothing less than weepy support.
Fighting back tears, I stand and walk to the sink, turning to lean one hip against it so I can face my friend’s pinched profile. I know her words, her actions come from a place of anguish, but that doesn’t lessen the hurt to my battered heart.
“The odds were not in my favor, Nissa. No matter what I did. And I wasn’t planning on getting pregnant. Right in the middle of dying is not exactly the best time to be trying to nurture a healthy baby. But,” I add with extra emphasis, “this child has already given me so much happiness and it’s only been a few weeks. I feel like it has brought me back to a place I never thought I’d be. I have hope. Hope, Nissa. This cancer…it stole everything from me—my present, my future. Out in the distance, there was nothing for me but pain and sickness and death. But now, despite the pain and the sickness and the death, I could have a baby. In a child, I will be able to give my husband a tiny piece of me that he can keep for the rest of his life. And for as many days as I can make it after delivery, we will be able to be a whole family. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. For us to have our own little family. Can’t you please just be happy for me?”