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Page 22 of Write Me For You

June

M y heart seemed to rattle in my chest. We were all in the rec room like we’d agreed. Our parents were here too. So far, Silas, Toby, and Chris had all been to see Dr. Duncan, and just like I’d written, the treatment was working for them.

It was happening.

What we had all dreamed of was happening … It seemed surreal. My leg bounced as I waited for Emma to come back in. Jesse’s hand was clasped in mine. Neither of us had been in yet, and my stomach was in knots.

My mama and daddy were sitting together close by, and every time one of my friends came in with a smile, I saw my daddy’s back straighten in confidence and excitement begin to glow on my mama’s face.

“June,” Jesse said, and I looked up to see Emma heading our way. Her smile was wide, and she was staring right at me. Her arms came out and I got to my feet. I released Jesse’s hand and Emma crashed into me.

“I’m so happy for you,” I said and felt Emma shake in my arms. The joy I felt for her was like a tidal wave.

“Thank you,” she said and pulled back. “That’s all of us so far.” She was right, and I couldn’t help a fission of excitement wash over me too. We could all have this. We could all be heading for remission.

“Jesse,” Neenee called out. I snapped my head to Jesse, and he met my eyes.

“Here goes nothing,” he said.

I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed him. “Group two for the win,” I said first this time and held out my fist.

Jesse chuckled and met my fist with his own.

“Group two for the win.” He followed Neenee to Dr. Duncan’s office, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off the doorway waiting for his return.

Just like the chapter I had written for Jesse, everything faded away but for my singular focus on waiting for my boyfriend to return.

Boyfriend—it sounded too reductive for what we were.

“I’m just running to the bathroom,” Chris said, and rushed out the rec room. “I wanna be here when Jesse comes back.”

Minutes and minutes passed. It felt longer than the others had taken, and I began to worry. Or had it not taken as long? I didn’t know if it simply felt like it was longer because this was Jesse .

The sound of footsteps approaching had my heart leaping to my throat. Even my parents got to their feet. Chris came through, a wide smile on his face. My shoulders dropped. What was taking Jesse so long?

“Why are you smiling like that?” Emma asked. Yes, Chris was obviously happy that he had received good news, but he looked ecstatic. I tried to search for any sign for Jesse over Chris’s shoulder, but the hallway was still empty.

“I’ve just seen Jesse,” Chris said, and all my attention fell on Chris. My heart began to thunder in my chest.

“What did he say?” I asked, a nervous tremor to my voice.

“He was on the phone,” he said. “To his mom, I think. But he flashed me a smile and a big thumbs up.”

The relief was instant. “He did?” I said, my voice stronger now.

Chris nodded emphatically and Emma threw her arms around my shoulders in celebration.

She squeezed me tightly and happiness drifted over me.

Jesse…it was working. The treatment was working, and he was going to be okay.

I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until this moment.

“June?” Neenee said, and I felt my mama’s hand on my back.

“We need to go in now, sweetie,” my mama said. I searched the hallway again for Jesse, wanting to see him before I went in, but he must have still been on the phone to his mama. She would be so happy. He must have been so happy.

As I linked my arms with my mama’s and daddy’s, I felt it: I felt the good news coming my way. I could see the orange glow of attending UT in the distance. A dream I had thought would never occur was now in my grasp again.

My daddy dropped a kiss on my head, and I knew he was silently sharing my excitement.

We walked into Dr. Duncan’s office, and Dr. Duncan avoided our eyes as he looked at his computer.

“I’m so sorry to tell you this, June, but our initial findings are showing that the treatment is not working as well as we’d hoped for you. ”

His words were a bucket of ice-cold water poured over my head. My heart stuttered from shock, and I heard my daddy whisper, “What?”

My hands began to shake, and my mama reached over and gripped them tightly.

“You’ve only had treatment for one phase, but this new form of monoclonal antibodies are intense and you should already show improvements. Our results tell us that your AML has progressed.”

I was still, like my body was locked in a cage I couldn’t climb out of.

“Phase one has not been successful for you, but we still have phase two. And we have hope that this may still work with another round of treatment.”

My mama seemed to be just as shocked as I was, silent and trying to digest this unexpected news.

“What are the chances?” my daddy asked. “What are you predicting the chances will be of recovery in phase two?”

“When this was tested in a lab, it was never more than ten percent,” Dr. Duncan said, straight to the point. “But that was not in humans, so we don’t have conclusive evidence. It could be more or less. We don’t know until we trial the next phase.”

I swallowed.

“And if there’s no improvement by the end of the second phase?” Daddy asked, and I braced myself.

“Then the trial’s treatment would be deemed unsuccessful for June,” Dr. Duncan explained.

“And June’s cancer will keep progressing.

After this next phase, if there is no improvement, June will be moved on to palliative treatment.

We will do all we can to make her pain free, but there would be no need for more chemotherapy or immunotherapy. ”

All I could hear was the slamming of my heart against my ribs. One more phase. I had one more phase for this treatment to make a difference—which seemed unlikely—and maybe only a few more months left to live if it failed.

Nausea swirled in my stomach, and I jumped up from my seat. I stared Dr. Duncan right in the eyes and said, “Am I going to die?”

“As I said, I don’t have that data yet,” he replied.

I shook my head. That wasn’t enough of an answer for me.

I could feel myself unraveling with panic.

“In your opinion, do you think the treatment will begin to work in the next phase?” I knew I was being direct, making him repeat himself, but I just…

I just needed to be told again. I needed it to sink in.

“As I said, lab results show around ten percent. It’s not great odds, but we must continue, as humans may take to the treatment better.

We will increase the dosage of the immunotherapy and monitor you to be sure your body can withstand it.

There is hope, June. It’s small, but it is there. We mustn’t give up yet.”

Ninety percent. There was a ninety percent chance that this treatment would fail.

Mama moved before me. “June?” She had tears streaming down her face.

My daddy stood too; his face looked stricken. Then I thought of Jesse—of his smiling face, of how excited he would be that his treatment was working, that I would hopefully be receiving the same news as everyone else.

My dream of us being at UT together evaporated. The idea of walking out of this ranch cancer free seemed like a fool’s dream now rather than a likelihood.

I left the office and stood in the hallway. I could hear laughter coming from the rec room. I couldn’t face it. My feet were planted into the ground.

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go to your room,” Mama said, but I shook my head. I didn’t want to go to my room. I didn’t know what I wanted.

And I couldn’t face Jesse who would be back in the rec room by now—couldn’t face Emma and Chris and everyone else. Oh God, Jesse… My treatment had failed. His was working; he was going to be okay, but he was going to be moving on without me.

“I need to be alone,” I blurted out, and backed away from the office and toward the door that led outside.

My daddy tried to follow, but I held out my hands.

“Please,” I said, my bottom lip trembling.

“I just need to… Please don’t follow me.

Just give me space.” I fled the building and was met with a warm breeze. Still, I was freezing.

Shock , I thought. I pulled my sweater from around my waist and put it on, walking as fast as I could, ignoring the pain in my leg. It suddenly seemed more pronounced somehow.

I sped up, Dr. Duncan’s words swirling around my brain like a tornado.

Ten percent. I might only have a 10 percent chance that the treatment would work from here on out. I slowed, tasting salt on my lips, and I realized tears were falling from my eyes.

It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t my body just accept this new treatment? Or the old treatment for that matter? What was it about me that rejected any kind of cure?

I felt like my heart was breaking with every step I took. I only stopped when I found myself at the stables.

“June?” Olivia, the stable manager, came over to me. “Are you okay?”

“Can I groom Ginger?”

Olivia’s concern was evident on her face, but she nodded. “Let me get his halter.” When she retrieved it, she said, “Do you want me to get him for you?”

I looked down at my shaking hands. “Yes, please,” I whispered. As Olivia went straight into the paddock to retrieve him, I stared at my hands, that feeling of detachment tumbling back. I clenched my hands into fists, but they no longer seemed like mine.

My brain was back in protection mode—but nothing could protect me from this.

My eyes roved over the paddocks, distantly watching the trees surrounding them sway in the light breeze. I inhaled the comforting smell of horses and felt the hard ground under my feet. I needed to be grounded, to be back in my body. I needed to still feel like I was here, alive.

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