“Mom?” she tried again, shaking her.
Her eyes opened briefly then closed again. Zoe immediately thought to call Kate. Kate would know what all this meant, and she’d be able to explain it in a way that would make sense to Zoe. But Zoe hadn’t spoken to Kate in weeks. It was the weirdest thing, but Zoe missed her. How was that even possible? A few overnight visits, a few conversations in the sunroom … it wasn’t exactly a lifelong friendship. And yet now, when she was really worried, it was Kate that she wanted to talk to.
She dialed Kate’s number. Kate picked up after a couple of rings. “Kate speaking.”
Zoe’s throat became thick and full of words that wouldn’t come out. The relief that she felt, just hearing Kate’s voice, was staggering.
“It’s me.”
“Zoe?”
“Mom’s sick,” she said. “She’s burning up.”
Kate paused just a second. “She’s hot to the touch?”
“Yes.”
“How long has she felt hot?”
“I … I don’t know!”
“Okay, just listen to me. Do you have a thermometer there?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good. Can you take your mom’s temperature for me? I’ll wait.”
Zoe put down the phone and ran to the bathroom. The thermometer was in the cabinet. She raced back to the sofa and popped it into her mom’s mouth, resting against her cheek. She waited thirty seconds, then plucked it out again.
“It’s … one oh four,” she said into the phone. “Oh God. That’s high, isn’t it?”
Kate was silent for a moment. Long enough to make Zoe worried. “Zoe, is your uncle there? Or anyone else?”
“No,” Zoe said. “It’s just me.”
Kate paused another beat. “Hang tight,” she said finally. “I’m coming over.”
57
Dr. Brookes was wearing remarkably casual clothes, Alice thought idly as he appeared at her hospital bed. A polo shirt, a pair of trousers. If she hadn’t been feeling so crappy, she’d have commented on it. She’d warmed to Dr. Brookes, these past months. Maybe he became more personable the better he knew his patients? Or maybe she’d become more personable.
Zoe had tried to reach Paul but he hadn’t answered his phone for days. He was probably off on a bender.
Sonja was here, as usual. And at some point, despite their rocky start, Alice realized she’d started to appreciate her presence. In fact, over the past few weeks, Sonja had become one of the few people Alice could depend on.
Kate had become another one. She had driven Alice to the hospital. Alice was thinking of calling her Saint Kate. Always coming to the rescue when they needed it—taking care of Zoe, taking care of her. It made Alice feel a little sheepish, after the way she’d shouted at her the last time they spoke. Today, Kate had also managed to bypass triage and put Alice straight into a bed, and half an hour later, Dr. Brookes was here, seemingly on his day off. For an unassuming woman, she sure could make things happen.
Alice watched Kate now through the glass. She stood in the corridor opposite Zoe. When Dr. Brookes came in, Alice thought she’d have to beg Zoe to leave. But all it took was a nod from Kate and she was gone. Now, the two of them chatted with an ease that Alice had never seen Zoe have before. Not even with Emily. Not with anyone except, well, Alice.
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Brookes said.
Alice made a face.
“Not great, huh? That was an impressive fever you came in here with. The antibiotics should start working soon. And I’ll get the nurse to give you something to make you more comfortable.”
“Make it a double,” Alice said.
Dr. Brookes smiled but it didn’t touch his eyes. There’d been a dip in his enthusiasm these last few weeks. Slight frowns when he looked at her chart. Words of encouragement were more strained; reassurances were vaguer.
“So?” Alice said. “Another infection?”
“Yes,” Dr. Brookes said. “It’s to be expected because of the way the chemo attacks your white cells.”
Alice got the sense there was more. “But?”
“But it has me concerned.”
“Why?”
Alice glanced at the window. Kate was giving Zoe a hug. Or was it the other way around? As if noticing her discomfort, Sonja moved in close beside Alice.
“We have your test results back,” he continued. “As I explained, we knew your white-cell count was low, that’s why you’ve had recurrent infections. Unfortunately these tests showed your levels are below five hundred cells per cubic millimeter, which makes you a grade-four neutropenic. The most severe kind.”
Alice looked back at Dr. Brookes. “And that means?”
“That means you’ll need to stay in the hospital until your neutrophil levels come up. We need to get you well and can’t risk another infection while your white-cell count is so low. And no more chemo, for the time being.”
“No more chemo?” Now he had her full attention. “But I need chemo. How am I supposed to beat the cancer?”
“Unfortunately your neutropenia makes it very difficult for us to treat your cancer at present,” Dr. Brookes said.
Alice waited, but he didn’t continue. “So what do we do?” she prompted.
“I’d suggest we take a break and when your blood improves we can revisit the chemotherapy, maybe with a different formula. Right now I’d be loath to do anything to deplete your neutrophils further. We’d be risking neutropenic sepsis, which can kill you a lot faster than cancer.”
Alice felt the room swell around her. “But I … I need to be one of the twenty percent.”
Sonja reached for Alice’s hand and gave it a squeeze of solidarity. It was surprisingly comforting. Alice glanced at their intertwined hands—a universal sign of support—and in that second, felt grateful. Then she noticed Sonja’s shirtsleeve had ridden up a few inches, revealing a purplish-black bruise. Immediately, Sonja tugged the sleeve down again.
Dr. Brookes laid a hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Let’s just take it one thing at a time, Alice. First, a few days in the hospital.”
Alice nodded repeatedly, calming herself. She could do that, she told herself. She could take things a day at a time. Like Dr. Brookes said, when her blood improved they would revisit chemo with a different formula. A better formula, this time. The right formula.
“Do you need Sonja to make arrangements for your daughter?”
“Zoe has somewhere to go,” Alice said, and she glanced back at the window, trying to ignore the fact that Kate and Zoe stood arm in arm, looking very much like mother and daughter.
58