The table clapped, and almost at once it felt like the tense wall that only moments ago had made its presence was no longer relevant. The uneasiness, the awkwardness. Fuck that. In fact, by the time the food had been delivered and we were on our third round of shots (half of one for me, Jayce had to double fist mine because even the smell of liquor made me want to throw up), every person at the table was alive with joy. With conversation. With laughter and stupid jokes and loud conversation. It was bliss.
“Macey,” Candace, who had been sitting across from me during dinner, snagged my attention. “If you don’t mind me being nosy, how are things going? How is...chemo?”
“Oh,” I started to say but was cut off by Dalton, who kicked Candace under the table and shook his head like he was in some 90’s spy thriller.
“I’m sorry,” Candace said quickly. “That was insensitive.”
“No, actually,” I said, side-eying Dalton with a scowl. “I consider all of you my friends, and I tell my friends everything. The fact that you asked warms my heart, thank you.”
“See, Dalton,” Candace said bitterly. Then she reached across the table and took my hand, clapping it firmly between her own. “You are one bad bitch,” she said, her expression so deadly serious that I almost lost my mind, but I held the bite of laughter back and smiled, nodding along with her.
“Thank you. I think.”
“You’ll beat this,” Candace said with a nod, looking as though her words sealed the deal. “I have faith.”
“Well, thanks, Candace,” I said, patting my friend’s hand with my free one. “And thank you for asking. Chemo is...good. I mean, it makes me really nauseous and exhausted, but it’s better than the alternative, right?”
Candace shook her head and sighed sadly. “You’re twenty-one,” she said. “How is this even happening to you?”
“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that every damn day.” Grinning at her, I reached for a tortilla chip and dipped it into the guacamole. It wasn’t until the food was fully down and sitting like an iron balloon in my stomach before I realized my mistake. My stomach churned as bile rose to my throat, clawing its way to the surface. Candace was still talking, and so was everyone else, multiple conversations being held at once. No one even noticed the shiny sheen of sweat that broke out on my suddenly clammy skin. I swallowed the bile back down and took a deep breath, counting to four, trying to focus on Candace’s words, keeping the bile down, and not passing out all at the same time. I closed my eyes, and somebody touched my shoulder.
“Baby, are you alright?” Jayce asked, curling his arm around my midsection. I dropped my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, inhaling the familiar, beautiful scent of him. His comfort eased the nausea, but only for a moment.
“Who’s up for another shot?” Tyson called over the table, standing up to shoot his back. My eye caught sight of the sloshing amber liquid and that’s all it took. The nausea overcame me once more times ten, and I stumbled to my feet, hand over my mouth, bumping my knee into the tabletop so hard that it rattled dishes and glass cups. Everyone turned to look at me, but I couldn’t look at them back. I couldn’t face them. Instead, I wheeled around and rushed in the direction of the bathroom, barely making it to the garbage can right inside the bathroom door. I fell to my knees and vomited into the trash can, losing everything I’d eaten and drank, which had hardly been anything at all. That was almost worse, because after one upheave all I could do was dry heave, and the taste of bile was worse than anything else.
A slight knock on the door made me flinch, and I considered trying to stand and lock it, but I wasn’t sure I was physically capable of leaving the floor. Before I could yell at whoever it was not to come in, the door opened and Jayce stepped through. He took one look at me lying on the floor wrapped around a wastebasket and cursed. Before I could yell at him to leave out of mere shame, he closed and locked the bathroom door behind him and fell to the ground in front of me, securing one arm around my waist while the other hand held the wastebasket under my nose. Slowly we walked to one of the private stalls, and I kneeled down just in time to vomit again.
“Alright, baby,” Jayce murmured. “Let it out.” He had one hand around my hair now, holding it back, and the other was gently caressing my back as I heaved into the toilet, trembling, in pain and horrified that this was happening to me, and Jayce was experiencing it.
He didn’t deserve this.
Wedidn’t deserve this.
“You should leave,” I said weakly, wiping my mouth with a shred of tissue. “After this, I wouldn’t even blame you for bailing into the sunset and never returning.” Feeling like I might continue dry heaving if I rejoined dinner, I slid down the wall a few feet from the toilet and placed my head in my hands, cold and shivery and dizzy.
“Can you please tell everyone I’m sorry?” I murmured, forcing my eyes up to meet Jayce. “Can you tell them that they can go, they don’t have to wait, and that we can try again as soon as everyone can get together, okay?”
“Macey, I don’t think—”
“Just tell them, please.”
Jayce nodded. I could tell he didn’t want to leave my side, but this was important. I was trying to make friends, not scare them away, and I had no idea how long I would be hovering around the golden throne feeling on the brink of death.
I wiped the sweat from my cool, clammy forehead and closed my eyes to focus on my breathing. A few moments later Jayce came back, shutting and locking the door behind him. He came automatically to me, dropping down against the wall beside me so he could take me in his arms and hold me. And it felt good, so good, theonlygood I felt anymore.
“I told them,” he said. “Everyone completely understands.”
“I’m glad. I didn’t want to ruin this, Jayce.”
“You ruined nothing,” he said sharply, hands tightening around me. Being held by him was the only thing keeping the pain away. “Everyone had a good time tonight. You had them at shots, you know,” he added wryly, and I giggled, trying to nod my head without getting sick again.
“Booze works for everyone,” I said softly. “It’s a common chemical inhibitor for college-aged Americans, especially those who are already promiscuous in college.”
“Is that a fact, or is that Macey Logic?” Jayce teased.
“Macey Logic.”
“Are you telling me that college students are just pansies who hide behind the mask of sexually charged champion beings?”
