UNTIL ANGELS CLOSE MY EYES
Chapter Fifteen

Jack sat at the table for a moment after Rose left, listening to her footsteps retreating down the sidewalk. When she was gone, he sat up, scrubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

Leukemia. Again. He couldn’t believe it. After surviving it twice, after going through all the misery of chemotherapy and radiation treatment, after searching unsuccessfully for a bone marrow donor, why did he have to go through it a third time?

What were the odds of surviving it a third time?

Slowly, Jack got to his feet, going to look out the kitchen window at the late afternoon sunlight. A bird pecked hungrily at the feeder his mother had hung outside the window while another bird flew around furiously, trying to scare the hungry bird away, but he saw none of it.

He stared out the window in a daze. It’s an omen, he thought. I should have known this was coming. Not just because of the symptoms, but…everything is so strange now. It feels like fall, even though it’s too soon. It’s just going to get darker, and colder, and…isn’t that the way things end, dark and cold and alone?

What are the chances that I’ll survive a third bout with leukemia? Once or twice, sure, but three times? What’s the point in even trying?

He turned away from the window slowly, his unfocused gaze landing on the rack of kitchen knives attached to the cabinet beside it.

What’s the use? I’ll just go through all the misery of chemotherapy and radiation—and who knows what other forms of torture they’ve thought of—only to die anyway.

His eyes focused on the rack of knives of now, he reached towards them slowly and contemplatively, not sure what he really intended to do.

He spun around, startled, his feet catching on the throw rug in front of the sink and almost tripping him when the door flew open with a bang and Rose rushed in, breathing hard.

She took in everything with a glance—Jack’s pale, tear-streaked face, the desperate look on his face, the rack of sharp knives within easy reach…

"Jack!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

*****

Rose was halfway up the walk of her own house when she stopped, a knot forming in her stomach as she looked back at Jack’s house. I should go back, she thought. He shouldn’t be alone right now.

She shook her head, forcing herself to walk towards her own front door. Jack wanted to be alone right now, and she would respect his wishes. By the time she got to her door, though, her conscience was screaming at her. Go back! There’s a reason why he wants to be alone right now—the same you reason you wanted to be left alone on that boulder six weeks ago!

Rose stopped, looking at the door. She should respect his wishes and leave him alone—but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

Turning on her heel, Rose raced back down the walkway. Ruth was pulling into the driveway as she ran down it, tires screeching as she braked hard.

"Rose! What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Ruth shouted at her as Rose darted around the car and headed for the driveway of the Dawson house.

"Sorry, Mom! I’ll be back later!"

Rose raced up the Dawsons’ walkway. Ruth shouted something after her, but Rose didn’t hear what it was. She yanked back the screen and threw the door open, coming to a sudden halt as she saw Jack standing at the kitchen window, reaching towards a rack full of sharp cutlery.

"Jack!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

*****

Jack and Rose stared at each other for a moment, neither sure what to do. Jack tried to step away from the counter, but his feet tangled in the throw rug, almost sending him toppling to the floor. He gripped the edge of the counter for balance, trying to think of what to say.

"I…uh…um…nothing. Nothing, really," he tried to say, but much to his embarrassment, his eyes welled up and he turned his head away, not wanting Rose to see him cry again.

Rose sighed and came towards him, helping him untangle his feet from the rug and putting her arms around him. "Jack…you were thinking the same thing I was that night in the hills, weren’t you?"

He stiffened, blinking his eyes rapidly and trying to avoid her gaze. "No."

"Jack…" He tried to pull away, but Rose tightened her arms around him, refusing to let him go. "I’m not going anywhere…not until your dad gets home, at least. I don’t think you should be alone right now."

He finally succeeded in breaking free of her grip, striding into the living room and collapsing on the couch. Rose followed slowly, sinking down beside him.

"Leave me alone."

"No, Jack."

He turned away, crossing his arms as though to protect himself. "Why are you here? What do you see in me? I’m just a teenage freak with cancer."

"You’re not a freak." Rose wrapped her arms around him. "I love you, and I can’t stand seeing you like this."

"It’s the way I am, Rose. Deal with it."

Rose took a deep breath. "Jack, I know you’re upset, but…I saw you reaching towards those kitchen knives. You were thinking about…about suicide, weren’t you?"

He didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was choked and shaky. "Yes."

"Oh, Jack." Rose sighed, putting her head on his shoulder. "Don’t. Please, don’t. It wouldn’t solve anything, you know. You talked me out of it back in August."

"I know, but…that was different."

"I felt like I had no way out, but when you talked to me, I started to see that no matter how hard it was, no matter how bad things were, it wasn’t worth killing myself over."

She felt his shoulders start to shake. "You don’t understand." He put his hands over his face, trying to hide his tears from her.

Rose picked up a box of Kleenex from the coffee table and handed it to him. Slowly, she turned him to face her, putting a hand gently on his cheek. "Then tell me."

He grabbed a tissue, wiping his eyes and nose. "I’m sorry." He felt like an idiot for crying like this, but he’d never been very good at handling bad diagnoses.

"It’s okay." Rose hugged him.

He took a deep, shaky breath, nodding. "Rose…you don’t know what it’s like to have cancer…to go through the treatment for it. Chemotherapy is…one of the worst treatments imaginable. Basically, you’re being poisoned in order to kill the cancer cells. It makes you sick all the time…like the worst case of stomach flu imaginable, except it lasts longer. Your hair falls out…I went completely bald the first time, though the second time my hair just thinned like a middle-aged man’s. You feel weak and exhausted, you’re vulnerable to catching every infection making the rounds…and even with all that, there’s no guarantee of a cure.

"And then there’s radiation treatment…that’s used to treat leukemia when it’s gotten into the brain and spinal cord because the body keeps the chemo out of those parts. Of course, to find out if the leukemia has spread into your brain and spinal cord, you have to have a spinal tap…I’ve never been able to get through those without a blinding headache that makes the nausea even worse. And when leukemia cells are found in the spinal fluid, you have to go through radiation treatment, which gives you some of the same side effects as chemo but also makes your skin feel burned…kind of like a sunburn is the best way I can describe it."

"But when the treatment’s done, you get better, don’t you?" Rose asked, allowing him to rest his head tiredly on her shoulder.

"Yes, but…Rose, this is my third bout with leukemia. The fact that it keeps coming back means that I’ve never been completely cured, and the disease gets stronger and more resistant to the drugs every time. My parents searched for a bone marrow donor for me…they even contacted my biological family, but no one was a match. Since I can’t have a bone marrow transplant, I have to rely on the chemotherapy and radiation and whatever else might have been invented…but it takes stronger and stronger doses to kill the cancer cells and get me back to remission, so there’s less chance that I’ll go into remission and more chance that I’ll die from the treatment itself."

His voice wavered again, but he took a deep breath, suppressing the tears. "I’ll have to go into the hospital soon for treatment…and I may never come out. The odds of a third remission aren’t good. All that misery, and I’ll probably die anyway. What’s the use? If I end things right now, I won’t have to suffer through all that."

"Jack…" Rose hugged him tightly. "You don’t know for sure that the treatment won’t work. I mean, there’s research being done all the time into curing cancer, and maybe this time you’ll get better and stay that way. You won’t know unless you try."

"I can’t do this, Rose."

"Yes, you can. You talked me out of making a terrible mistake, and I’m not letting you go until you promise me you won’t make the same mistake."

"Rose…"

"Promise me, Jack." Rose looked at him pleadingly.

Jack sighed, looking down, but finally turned his face towards hers. "I promise."

"You’re sure?"

"I promise I won’t harm myself."

"Good. Thank you, Jack. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you."

"It may happen anyway…"

"Don’t think about that. Think about getting better."

"I’ll try." He wrapped his arms around her, looking exhausted.

"Have you called your mom yet?"

"No…not yet."

"You should call her…she needs to know that you’re…that you’ve got…"

"That I’ve got leukemia again." He looked down. "I’ll go call her."

"When you’ve done that, maybe you can tell me about…about when you had cancer before, when you were a kid."

Jack looked at her, trying to think of how to describe his past experiences…they hadn’t been pleasant. "Sure. After I call my mom…it wasn’t nice, but I’ll tell you about when I was sick as a kid."

Chapter Sixteen
Stories