They stayed for a couple hours before Lincoln took her home and put her into bed. He settled in and stayed awake for a long time, amazed that what his wife was about to face took a back burner for her concern for him. But he didn’t dwell on that for long, he was just glad that her clothes were back hanging in her closet, her toothbrush in the holder beside his, and her in his bed.
*****
Six months later, Lincoln stood in the doorway to their bedroom and studied the woman lying there. God, he didn’t know how much more he could take. Oh, being there for Addison wasn’t the problem. The problem was seeing her in so much pain after a treatment. She had just received her last treatment from the second round. This round was stronger than the first one, and he didn’t know how much more she could take. She was skin and bones, dark circles beneath her sunken eyes and she had no wish or desire to eat. He was still able to get some broth or soup down her, but it wasn’t enough. The doctor told him that if she lost as much as five more ounces she had to go into the hospital and get hooked up to IVs, maybe a feeding tube, and if that happened, it was all over.
He turned and went down the stairs when the bell rang. He pulled the door to the bedroom partway closed so whoever it was didn’t disturb Addison. He swung open the door and actually groaned.
“Father, Mother. What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your parents?” his mother asked as she swept in and blew him an air kiss on the way by. His father shouldered his way in without bothering to greet him. After the door was closed, he turned to study his parents. He always wondered if he’d been adopted. His parents were so cold and snooty, everything he valued about himself he got from his grandparents. His love of motorcycles, car engines, and this house.
“Since you never come to my house, or give me the time of day for that matter, yeah, I’ll greet you that way.” There was never any love lost between them.
“I heard a rumor and wanted to know if it was true.”
“And that would be?”
“You have Miss Barker here with you?”
“No, I haveMrs. Murphyhere with me. She’s my wife, Father and has been for seven years now.” Lincoln didn’t wait for him to say anything. He knew he needed an outlet and his father was right there before him. What a perfect target to let off some steam. “Get off your fucking high horse with me, Old Man. You grew up in this house. You’re not from money like you like to tell all your high society and country club friends.”
“Why I never,” his mother said in shock, with her hand over her throat, clutching her non-existent pearls. “How dare you talk to your father like that?”
“I dare because it’s true. He only got his money after Gramps died. And yes he invested it wisely, but that doesn’t give either of you the right to come intomyhome and belittlemywife. So, if you don’t have anything important to say, you can leave.” He started toward the door, but a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He swirled around and rushed up the stairs to Addison’s side.
“What are you doing out of bed? You shouldn’t be up.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but your voice was really loud, I wanted to know who caught the brunt of your frustrations. Now that I know, go ahead and continue. It’s been a while since I saw a good fireworks display.” She wrinkled her nose at his parents and Lincoln couldn’t help it. He sat down on the stairs with her beside him and began laughing. It was the first laugh since her chemo started six months ago. He knew she didn’t like his parents and he was fine with that. He didn’t really like them either.
“Better?” Addison asked him when he wiped his tears and took several deep breaths.
“Much. Thank you.” He leaned down and kissed her nose. He looked up, and said, “What are you two still doing here?”
His mother asked. “And what the hell is wrong with the two of you, Ms. Barker, you look like hell.”
“Thank you, Mary Beth. I feel like it too. But then again, you’d feel like shit and look like hell if you had a chemotherapy treatment this morning. I have stage two breast cancer and had my last treatment this morning.”
“Oh my god, and you’re still with her?” his father asked in shock.
“You bastard!” Lincoln said, and jumped to his feet. “How dare you say that to me? I take my wedding vows seriously. Unlike you. I married Addison in sickness and health, this is sickness. I’ve been with her every step of the way. We’re in this together, and if you can’t respect that, then you don’t respect me.”
“Hey, bro, need the trash taken out?” Greaser asked from the front door along with Burt, Jackson, and Randy.
Lincoln didn’t bother looking up, nor reply as he heard the commotion and turned all his attention to Addison. “Let’s get you back to bed.” He stood and bent down to lift her into his arms.
“I came down for another reason.” Addison allowed him to pick her up, but he paused. “Could I have some hot chocolate and toast?”
“Absolutely.” Lincoln hugged her to him and buried his head into her bald head. This was the first time in weeks that she had asked for food. In the kitchen they were joined by the others and they talked quietly as he made what she requested.
Addison was so weak she couldn’t even hold the cup of hot chocolate, but it smelled heavenly. She frowned when Lincoln picked it up and took a tiny sip. “That’s supposed to be mine.” She tried to slap his hand, but being so weak she barely lifted it off her lap.
“I know, I’m making sure it isn’t too hot for you.” He smiled as he held the cup to her mouth and held his breath as she took a sip. He ended up having to feed her the toast. With each bite she took and kept it down, his tears streamed down his face, unchecked. At the end, she had all the chocolate and ate one whole piece of bread. He placed his head against hers and hugged her tight. “How do you feel? How’s the stomach?”
“Good.” Addison sighed. “But I’m tired. Could you take me back to bed?”
“Of course.” He took her upstairs and settled her in. Back down in the kitchen he looked at his friends and the cup and plate that Addison had used, he sat down and buried his head in his hands as he cried. Once he was under control he looked at the men, and said, “That’s the first solid food she’s eaten in over four months. She just received her last chemo treatment. Dr. Knight said that if she continues to lose weight, no, that’s not right, he said if she loses five more ounces, he’s going to have to admit her and hook her up to IVs and a feeding tube. He warned me that if it comes to that, then her chances of survival are pretty much over.”
“Christ,” Burt said, and went over and laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know now’s not the time, but we wondered if you wanted to take your bike out to clear your head. But after that milestone, I have a feeling you want to stay here.”
