Page 131 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

Eventually, Julie comes back, bringing coffee and bottled water for everyone. She sits with us for five minutes, bouncing her legs, wringing her hands together, and then she’s up again.

“I’m ordering lunch,” she says nervously, the physical embodiment of what everyone else is going through. “Britain, Alex, any allergies? You?” She looks at Jess.

We all shake our heads.

“I’ll be back.”What the?What was that?

I shoot Brit a side glance, and I can tell she’s thinking the same.

Niko and Max eventually rejoin us. Both of them eye Brit and Matt, holding hands, but neither says anything. Everyone seems too scared to address the elephant in the room.

Another hour goes by before Silas walks through the hall door with a surgeon beside him. This time, everyone stands.

Silas looks uneasy, but he doesn’t look like he just found out his dad died. Small wins.

The surgeon speaks first, “I just want to let you all know, he’s in recovery and he’s stable.” Everyone lets out the smallest of exhales of relief.

“We had originally planned on laparoscopy, but after an initial incision, we made the decision to do an open hemicolectomy, removing the right section of the colon and all the surrounding lymph nodes. But unfortunately, the cancer has metastasized,” the words get blurry, and the room feels hazy, but he continues on, “It’s spread.”

There are more senseless words, “...peritoneum, which is the membrane that lines the abdomen.” The ringing in my ears makes everything hard to hear. “...a biopsy from his liver. He’ll need to recover from the surgery, then we’ll figure out the treatment plan. But more than likely chemotherapy.”

Fuck. No one lets out a tiny exhale of relief this time.

A

I’ll pick you up.

Em

I need to rent a car anyway. I can meet you at the hospital.

I’m already here.

When her flight lands twenty minutes later, I’m standing in the private terminal, waiting. I watch her walk across the tarmac in leggings, an NYU sweatshirt, and Chuck Taylors. Her curly hair gets swept up in the wind, and she does a light jog to escape the chill.

The door of the terminal opens, and she’s here. Pink cheeks, shy smile.My girl.

Waiting for her to come to me, I debate what the appropriate greeting is. A hug? A handshake? A kiss that would show her I love her, desperately? Now more than ever.

But then she’s standing in front of me and going up on tiptoes to place a kiss on my cheek. Before she can back away, I slip a hand around her back and hold her against me, pulling her in for a hug.

“How is he?” She asks like a reminder. She’s here for Connie, not me.

“Stable.” I let her go.

She lets loose a long exhale, jostling a large tote bag on her shoulder.

“Let me.” I take it from her. “Is this all?” She always seems to travel light.

She blushes, then says, “Yeah. I left in a hurry…”

“Well, we can get whatever you need–”

She stops me, “I’m not staying long. I just want to see him. Want to make sure you’re okay.” She looks away like the thought pains her.

I take her chin and pull her back to look at me.

“If you’re here, I’m better than okay.” Her cheeks flame, and her pupils seem to blow wide open.