The Reason by William Sirls
“No, not at all,” Ian said. “Macey says it happens all the time.”
Brooke heard the bathroom door click shut, back in the hallway.
“I guess I really don’t understand all of it,” Carla said. “But either way, from what everyone says, it sounds like Macey is the perfect doctor for Alex.”
Brooke leaned forward and listened for the bathroom. She had a feeling it was Alex.
“I just wish they could get his white blood cell count down to where they want it.”
“What did Macey say about that?” Carla asked.
“She said it wasn’t that unusual,” Brooke said.
“Okay,” Carla said. “So what’s next?”
“They’re changing up his regimen slightly.”
“His regimen?”
“Yeah,” Ian said. “They changed the combination of drugs they’re giving him to lower his white blood cell count, and if it knocks it down too much, that’s when they will give him the platelet transfusion.”
“I think I get it,” Carla said. “How long are they going to keep doing all the chemo and testing?”
Brooke answered, “That’s what we’re still not sure about.”
Ian looked over his shoulder. “Is that Alex in the bathroom?”
“I think so,” Brooke said. “I’ll give him another couple minutes.”
Carla turned to Brooke. “Didn’t you say you guys are both getting tested for something Friday?”
“To see if either of us is a marrow match,” Brooke answered. “That’s what Kaitlyn told me. But I guess the odds of me or Ian being a match for Alex are like a gazillion to one.” Brooke glanced back at the empty hallway. What’s taking him so long?
“Want me to check on him?” Ian asked, following her gaze.
“I got it,” Brooke said, pushing back a wave of irritation. He’s just trying to help. She went down the hallway to the bathroom door. “Is everything okay in there, Alex?”
There was no answer. She knocked lightly on the door. “Alex, are you in there?”
“Yeah,” a small voice said, muffled behind the door.
“What are you doing, buddy?” Brooke asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Alex said faintly. “I’m trying to go potty.”
“You sure have been in there awhile. You want me to come in?”
“I’m okay,” he said softly. “Are Dad and Aunt Carla still here?”
“They are,” Brooke said, pressing her ear to the door. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Yell if you need me. Okay?”
“All right.”
Brooke walked back into the living room and dropped on the couch. “It’s Alex.”
“Is he okay?” Ian asked.
“I think so. I’ll give him a few more minutes. I’m getting tired.”
“Me too,” Ian said. “I should probably get going.”
Brooke turned to Carla, who was staying the night. Carla had been spending a lot of time with Pastor Jim, probably talking about her newfound sobriety and direction. “You need to be up at any certain time?”
Carla grabbed the bowl and scooped up the popcorn that had spilled on the couch. “I work at nine. But I’m sure Pastor Jim will be doing his 5:00 a.m. rattling thing in the kitchen, waking the whole house up.”
“You’re probably right,” Brooke said, smiling.
Carla leaned over and gave Brooke a quick squeeze, then smiled over at Ian. “Everything’s going to be all right, you guys. Remember what Pastor Jim said?”
“Only believe,” Brooke said.
“I like that,” Ian said.
Brooke hugged Carla tightly, stood, then headed back down the hall. The bathroom door was still closed. She tapped on the door. “Alex?”
“Yeah,” he answered. He sounded younger this time.
“What are you doing, buddy?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Alex, I’m coming in.” She tried the door, but it was locked.
“Are they still here?”
“Yes, honey. Unlock the door.”
“Are they with you or in the living room?”
“In the living room. Unlock the door.”
He fumbled briefly with the doorknob, and then she could hear the lock turn. Brooke slowly opened the door and noticed that the only light was the soft glow of a night-light that was plugged in near the bottom of the wall.
Alex was by the bathtub with his head down and his hands at his sides.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” she asked, still not approaching him. “You don’t feel good?”
“It feels like I sunburned my head and . . .” He stopped and covered his face as if he were ashamed. She noticed his shoulders had started to bob. He was crying.
“Alex,” Brooke said, kneeling down and hugging him. This was the first time she had seen him cry since he had begun his treatment. The needles, the port, the prodding, the constant orders to be still, the chemo . . .
Everyone had marveled at how well he was taking things. How well he was doing. How brave he was. But he was also only five. “What, baby? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Close the door,” he whispered into her shoulder.
“Okay, sweetie,” she said, swinging the door shut behind her.
“It’s happening,” he whispered.
“What, buddy? What’s happening? Tell me.”
“Turn the . . .” He paused and lifted his head. “Turn the light on.”
Brooke flipped the switch, and they both squinted against the light.
“See it?” Alex asked, climbing the step stool in front of the sink.
Brooke looked in the mirror at their reflection. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alex. What is it?”
“Really?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
She rose and glanced back in the mirror. There it was. Now she could see it. She looked down at her chest, where Alex’s head had been.
“Look,” he said, pointing up at her. She could see the hopelessness in his eyes. “See it?”
“I do, baby,” she whispered.
Tiny shreds of reddish-orange hair clung to her shirt between her chest and shoulder. She glanced back in the mirror at Alex’s reflection and could see a small tear angling across his cheek. At the base of his neck and around his shoulders, more hair had fallen out, virtually covering the collar of his Spider-Man pajamas.
“I don’t want Dad to see it.”
“Baby, it’s okay.”
“Can you tell him that it’s because of the chemo syrupy?”
She picked him up and hugged him, feeling his wiry arms wrap around her neck, his legs around her torso. She leaned in, inhaling the scent of him, and swallowed the lump in her throat. You have to sound brave, Brooke. Strong. Positive. “Remember what they told us, buddy?”
“What?” he said, nestling against her shoulder.
“They said it would grow back. Remember?”
“Are you sure it will grow back?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, baby,” she said, rubbing his back and kissing the side of his face. “I promise.”
THIRTY-THREE
I’m still trying to figure out which genius chef keeps putting green beans on the same plate as pizza,” Kaitlyn said, sitting in front of Macey at the East Shore cafeteria. She studied her plate in partial disgust, making absolutely sure that none of the beans had the gall to touch either of her two slices.
“What are you, ten years old?” Macey asked, laughing and stabbing at the beans on her plate with her fork. “Ever try eating one? They are actually pretty good for you.”
“I have no problem with green beans,” Kaitlyn said. “I just can’t get used to them being served with pizza. It’s like ketchup and ice cream. Certain things don’t belong together. It’s food taboo.”
“Look. I’m eating it,” Macey said. “It doesn?
“I’ve also seen pictures of you diving out of a perfectly good airplane. So that explains that.”
Macey turned to face the cafeteria entrance as a rowdy cluster of construction workers trampled through the hallway and then out the main door. “So Zach asked you to go somewhere with him this weekend?”
Kaitlyn nodded as she completed the separation between the beans and the pizza. “Just when I was completely prepared to give him his newfound space, he asked me to go.”
“Space? Like the space you gave him at church on Sunday? Not exactly beans and pizza, Kaitlyn. You were sitting right next to him.”
“Shush, Lewis.”
“What are you guys going to do?”
“I’m not sure,” Kaitlyn said. “But he told me it would explain some things. He also said to wear old clothes.”
“Explain some things?” Macey asked. “Like what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I knew you were going to go out with him again,” Macey jabbed.
“It’s not a date.”
“No, it’s not a date,” Macey agreed. “It’s a romantic weekend away.”
“With separate rooms.”
Macey smiled. “Quit being so defensive! I’m allowed to harass you.”
Kaitlyn put down her fork, but she wasn’t smiling. “I didn’t think I’d ever want to spend time with him outside of the hospital again, Macey. I was sure of it. I know it hasn’t been that long, but something’s different about him, don’t you think? It’s like some type of switch was flipped.”
“You won’t get any argument from me,” she said. “He’s way more focused on the kids here, less self-centered. And who would’ve ever guessed that he’d be in church three weeks in a row? Heck—once, for that matter?”
Kaitlyn agreed. “Who would’ve ever guessed that we would be there three weeks in a row?”
“Kenneth,” Macey said. “That’s who.”
“Here we go again,” Kaitlyn said, rolling her eyes lightheartedly. But she smiled. “I wonder why he wasn’t there on Sunday?”
“Are you two talking about me again?”
They were both startled but not scared, recognizing his voice. They looked up, and Kenneth was casually standing next to their table, dressed in his usual construction outfit of jeans and flannel shirt.
“Hello, Kaitlyn,” he said. “Hello, Macey.”
“Kenneth!” Macey said, choking on her swallow of soda. “Hi.”
Kaitlyn looked back up at the carpenter and oddly felt like a child hanging out with a favorite parent.
He is the buzz.
“We were just saying that we didn’t see you at church on Sunday,” Kaitlyn said, finally finding her voice.
“Interesting,” Kenneth said as several hospital employees looked over at them. “I was there on Sunday.”
“We didn’t see you,” Macey said curiously.
“You’re right.” He nodded, quickly stepping back. “Listen, guys, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I saw you two in here, and I wanted to swing in and say hi.”
“You’re welcome to join us,” Macey said.
“Thanks, but I better be going,” he said. “The superintendent doesn’t really approve of us being in here.”
“We have you covered,” Kaitlyn offered, her confidence and comfort slowly coming back to the table. “Please join us.”
“I really have to leave,” he said, cocking his thumb back over his right shoulder. “But I hope to see you guys again on Sunday. And I’ll make sure you see me too.” He gave them each a smile, then turned and made his way out the door.
Both women watched as he disappeared around the corner.
“I feel like an idiot,” Macey said, tossing her crumpled napkin on the table. “I really didn’t know what to say to him.”
“I was waiting for you to say something,” Kaitlyn said. “He probably thinks we are a couple of gossips. Of course he walks in right as we’re talking about him.”
Macey shook her head, grabbed the napkin, and then picked up a piece of pizza. “I don’t think he thinks that at all, Kait.”
“Maybe,” Kaitlyn said, trying to read the strange look on Macey’s face. She leaned closer so she could lower her voice. “He makes me feel like a little kid when he’s around.”
“Me too,” Macey agreed.
“Did he just say he was there on Sunday?”
“Yes, he did.”
Kaitlyn quickly sipped her Diet Coke. “Don’t you think if he was at church, we would have seen him? There were more people than ever, but we would’ve seen him. Right? Since we were both looking?”
Macey paused. “Not necessarily,” she said lowly, giving her a conspiratorial look.
“C’mon, Macey,” the nurse said.
Macey lifted her elbows to the top of the table and leaned forward. “Maybe we weren’t looking hard enough. In the right way.”
“What do you mean?” Kaitlyn asked.
“He said he was there,” Macey said quietly, sitting back. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“Here you go again,” Kaitlyn said, looking over her shoulder and around to see if anyone was overhearing their crazy talk. “Don’t even say it.”
“Fine.” She looked miffed.
“Listen,” Kaitlyn said, lowering her voice. “We don’t want anybody knowing that the best doctor here thinks that God is a dues-paying member of the local carpenters’ union. They’ll send you to the eighth-floor psych ward instead of letting you keep working on the third.”
Macey looked away dismissively and then back to the nurse, a smile twitching at her lips. “Dues-paying member?”
“Yes,” Kaitlyn said. “But if you do end up on the eighth floor, I’ll visit you every day. I promise.”
“Ha-ha,” Macey said. “But back to the church thing. I want to keep going. In fact, I’m going to call Pastor Jim and see if our little group wants to go back to that Pilot Inn for lunch after church this Sunday, my treat. You in? Oh, that’s right. You’ll be gone. With Zach.” She tossed her a teasing smile.
Kaitlyn gave her a sassy look back, thinking about the standing-room-only crowd at St. Thomas. The happily standing crowd. “Your treat? I’m sure they can probably afford it now. There were more people there this week than last. I figured the hype would’ve died down.”
“Blindness just doesn’t up and go away,” Macey said. “People want to know what happened. They want to be around a miracle. And then they tell people who tell more people. And Pastor Jim isn’t half bad at preaching.”
“I guess you’re right,” Kaitlyn said. “The day we went for the cross, there were probably twenty people there, tops. How many do you think were there Sunday?”
“Two, maybe three hundred,” Macey answered. “Those people in the back stood for the whole hour.”
“Pastor Jim keeps them on their toes, though, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does. He makes me want to try and make more of my life. Live it differently.”
“Me too,” Kaitlyn said.
Macey finished off her first slice of pizza. “Just like Zach, I’m going to try. I really do want to do better.”
“Just like Zach,” Kaitlyn repeated in disbelief. “Go figure.”
ZACH LOWERED THE VOLUME ON THE RADIO AS HE AND Kaitlyn turned off the Van Horn exit of I-75, a little over a mile north of Carlson. “You ever wonder what it’s all about, Kait?” he asked, waving his hand in a sweep across the breadth of the windshield.
“What?” Kaitlyn asked, giving him a little puzzled frown.
“Life,” he answered. He rolled the driver’s side window down a few inches and lifted his cheek closer to feel the crisp air. “It’s a perfect day, isn’t it?”
It is a beautiful day, Kaitlyn thought. She smiled over at him, as interested in the man beside her and the changes she saw in him as she was in the bright blue sky outside. “To be honest, Zach, I’ve actually been thinking a lot about it lately.”
??
She paused, studying him. He’d never shown an interest in anything deep before, let alone sought her opinion. Now he seemed more alive to her. “Like you, Zach.”
“Like me?” he asked. She thought he was surprised—maybe even a little pleased—by her sincerity.
“The way you have acted over the last couple of weeks is . . . well, it’s inspiring.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate that. The truth of the matter is that I’ve been more than inspired. I think I’m changing.” He shrugged. “In fact, I don’t just want to believe, I think that maybe . . .”
She could see his smile. It wasn’t forced, like the Dr. Norman smiles she’d become accustomed to. “I think it’s part of the reason I’m with you today. I see the change in you.”
“And I want to keep it up,” he said. “Do you remember when Pastor Jim was talking to all of us about the past, the present, and the future? And how he pointed out that too many of us are so wrapped up in worrying about things we can’t control that we ignore our obligations and blessings in the present?”
“I’m that way sometimes,” Kaitlyn said. “I think about the future all the time.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Zach said. “But the way I see it, worrying about the future is where we get into a problem. We should plan, but start with planning to do the right things— right now. The things we’re called to do, deep down. For me, it’s spending more time with each of our patients rather than just seeing them as names on my to-do list. And it’s made each day so much more . . . meaningful.”
“I see that,” she said, thinking he’d really never looked handsomer than he did today.
“If we do those things first, the rest will work itself out. The future too. Don’t you think?”
“I do,” she said, wondering if he’d missed his calling. He had made his point every bit as well as the minister had. “Zach. What’s got into you?”
He glanced over at her, his eyes somber, contemplative. “I’m in the present, rather than working over my past.”
“What do you mean?” Kaitlyn asked carefully.
“We all make mistakes. All of us. I made a hundred with you,” he said, giving her a rueful look. “Someday I hope you can forgive me for those. But I had to go further back to deal with something in order to break free of it.” He slowed the car down and tapped on the steering wheel. “I wasn’t smart enough to realize the obvious.”