Canceling my dream wedding was a nightmare.
I didn’t even want to know how much money I lost pulling the plug at the last minute. But slowly and methodically, I worked my way through the list canceling everything from the flowers and advising the guests, well my side anyway. Fuck it, Todd could tell his own family and explain to them why it was off. And if he didn’t, well, they could all show up at the church but good luck finding a bride.
When it came to the honeymoon, I’d called my travel agent, and she’d advised I couldn’t get a refund. I wasn’t surprised but she did offer me a solution. Instead of two tickets, I upgrade and took the package.
So that’s what I’d done.
Ten days in a private villa on a honeymooners’ island in the Maldives.
Everything about it was perfect. The weather was to die for. The water was crystal clear and warm enough you could walk right in. The resort was like something off a postcard and the food was fresh and delicious.
For ten days I woke up to the sound of waves breaking on the shore. I walked along the beach and read books on the sand.
I enjoyed cocktails at sunset. For one.
I kept my reservation for the romantic beach dinner. Alone.
I went on the scuba dive adventure Todd had told me was an absolute must-do. Alone.
And I sat at the bar and watched the sun set on the horizon. Alone.
I could’ve been bitter. I had every right to be bitter. But what was the point? I was in paradise, eating freshly made pastries and the most succulent fresh seafood. Why bother thinking about what could’ve been when instead I could focus on what was right in front of me. The drama would still be there when I went home. But halfway around the world, I was going to relax and enjoy myself.
So that’s what I did.
I’d like to pretend that I didn’t think about what had happened while I was away, but it was hard not to. Lying in the oversized outdoor tub, surrounded by huge palm trees with the sounds of birds chirping, I’d closed my eyes and let myself imagine what it would be like to be here, to experience all this with someone special.
Now I was back and reality was slapping me in the face once again.
Hannah had picked me up from the airport and taken me to her place, or home as I guess it was and I’d passed out before I could even show her my pictures. Jet lag was a bitch and it was kicking my ass, but somehow, I was pushing through.
Yesterday I slept and lazed around, trying to figure out my next move and today I was back at work.
Stepping into the ER, I saw a sight that broke my heart. James Jefferies was too young to have had to fight this hard.
Keeping out of the way, I watched what was happening, but I already knew. At least I thought I did. Deep down I had a really bad feeling, one I didn’t want to have to face.
I’d known James since he was two. He was an amazing little boy, full of spark and energy until it started to flicker. He was obsessed with Batman and refused to go anywhere without his favorite figurine. If we wanted to take him for a scan, then Batman was getting one too.
His fight with leukemia hadn’t been pretty. His was an aggressive form and it took a lot out of not only him, but also his poor parents. His mother, Kathy and his father Peter, had tried for years to have a baby and when James entered their lives, their worlds were complete. Then this happened. So when he went into remission, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Sadly, we didn’t even make it two years and he was back in my care. The second time around the fight was even harder but James, the trooper he was, was up for the battle. Superheroes never gave up and neither did James. We did what we had to do. Turned his hospital gown into a cape and fought with everything we had. Round after round of chemotherapy, immunotherapy, and radiation and somehow James still managed to smile a tired smile. My heart bled for him. He was so strong yet his body was so weak.
Week after week, blood test after blood test, we fought on. I was the Robin to his Batman, and I’d never been more excited to be somebody's sidekick.
Somehow, I don't know if it was the treatments we were doing, the praying Kathy did, the wishes Peter sent out into the Universe, or James’s stubbornness but somehow, only eight months ago, after two years of fighting, we were in remission again.
This time we didn’t breathe the sigh of relief too heavily. I think we were all too afraid to jinx it.
The day Kathy and Peter had taken their superhero home was one I’d never forget. James had been itching to get out of here for days, but I was waiting on test results. I didn’t want to see him back in here again and if that meant I was the bad guy holding him back a day or two, then I could live with that.
Walking into his room with good news, I watched as Kathy straightened in her chair and reached for her son’s hand.
“I have news,” I started.
“I’m going home?” James asked, hope filling his face.
I took a breath and looked over at Kathy. She looked as tired as I felt and I couldn’t blame her for a second. She might not have been the one being poked and prodded on a daily basis, but there was no doubt she’d ridden every bump alongside her son. “Yes, James. You’re going home,” I confirmed.
