We made plans for me to pick her up in the morning and I left. There was an awkward moment where I think she wanted me to kiss her goodbye. And I would have, but Heath tucked his head in at that moment to make sure Emilia was okay—or probably to make sure I wasn’t up to something with her, given the glare he gave me.
The second oncologist we had seen had given me the information for a doctor who would see her immediately for the procedure, given the circumstances. His office was the one I’d called that afternoon. I’d also called the oncologist to set up the follow-up appointment for afterward.
I was at Heath’s place again early the next morning. It was a cold, crisp day that promised moisture later on. A dark, dreary sort of day. Suitable, really, for what we were about to do.
I hadn’t let myself become emotionally involved. I was in problem-solving mode. I had to be the strong one for her. It was my job—one that I took seriously. I only hoped she could do what I’d asked her to do—to put her burdens on my shoulders. I was ready to carry that weight. Emilia had once called it a baby—a child, our child. But I’d refused to think about it that way. Instead it was an obstacle to her becoming healthy, a possible threat to her life. I wouldn’t think about it otherwise.
We said little on the way to the doctor’s office. She kept her pale face pointed downwards, staring at the clenched hands in her lap. I didn’t bother with small talk. She never looked up once and that was the first time that I began to wonder what kind of long-term effects this whole thing would have on her, beyond the cancer. Would it affect her will to fight it? I clenched my jaw. One step at a time. We’d tackle that problem later.
I filled out paperwork when we got there, leaving blanks for her complete with information I didn’t know, like medical history. She underwent a quick examination to confirm the date of conception. Then the doctor handed her a small plastic cup with two pills inside and a glass of water.
“You’ll come back for an exam and more medication in two days and a blood test in seven. Remember to follow the guidelines in the paperwork if there are any unusual symptoms.”
Emilia gave a vague nod and took the water in one hand and the pills in the other. The doctor left the room and we were alone. She hadn’t looked at me or directly addressed me since getting to the office. Now, she stared at the pills like they were coiled rattlesnakes.
“I can’t do this.”
That same cold fear clutched at my throat. She was changing her mind. “Mia—”
She wrinkled her brow, focusing on the pills, her hand beginning to shake. “I thought I could.”
I gently put my hands on her shoulders and stooped to get on eye level with her. “Look at me.”
But she didn’t. “August eighteenth. That’s the due date. I looked it up.” Her lip trembled.
I moved my hands so that they were on her cheeks, holding her, trembling, in my hands. Finally her gaze met mine.
The tears pooling in her beautiful eyes shredded my heart. Valiantly, she blinked them away and swallowed. I soothed her cheek with my thumb.
“Adam…” she whispered. “I can’t…”
My attention narrowed on her so that she was my entire focus, my entire world for those few critical moments. “You can. Mia, I need you—so much. Please.” My voice died out and I was incapable of saying a word with my throat closed up, clogged with fear and agony.
She froze, her gaze dropping. Any color she’d had in her cheeks was long gone. She was so pale, in fact, that she looked like she might pass out.
I swallowed. “Do you need a minute? I’ll step out…I’ll—I’ll do whatever you need. And—” I gulped air, suddenly feeling sick. “If you can’t…if you change your mind, I’ll be here for you for that, too.”
Her eyes flew to mine—as if to ascertain whether or not I was serious. I was, but God—I prayed to any and all of them that she wouldn’t choose to carry to term. We stared into each other’s eyes. “You’d do that?” she choked out.
“I want you in my life for as long as possible—one way or another. This is your choice. You know where I stand. But I can’t pressure you beyond telling you how much you mean to me. And I can’t even find the words to tell you that in any adequate way. But I’ll go and be right outside the door and give you a moment to figure this out.”
“No,” she said, her voice half a shaky sob. “I need you to hold me. Please. Just hold me and don’t say anything.”
I nodded, taking her in my arms. She turned so that her back was to me and I tucked her head under my chin, wrapping my arms around her waist. She felt thin, frail, breakable.