“Okay,” I replied, already feeling the tension settle upon my shoulders. I took the seat opposite her as Murphy jumped onto my lap. It didn’t matter what she’d done. I would forgive her, as I always did. There was nothing she could say that would push me away. “Whatever it is, we’ll work it out.”
“Not this.”
The way she said it with such foreboding was my first indication that things would not be going my way. “What does that mean?”
“I found out in the hospital that my mother died from complications from Huntington’s disease. I’d never even heard of it before. The doctor explained to me that the disease attacks the brain cells, causing mental illness and eventually death. There’s no cure.”
“Shit. And your mom had this?”
“Yes. The reason I’ve been so upset, Keith, is not because of my mother’s death but because the disease is hereditary. It runs in families. And… and…”
Sam dissolved into tears. I let the dog down and dropped to my knees in front of her and lay my head on her stomach. “Just let me help you. We can figure this out. Everything will be all right.”
“No!” She pushed me back, jumping from her seat. “I don’t think you fully understand, Keith.”
“No, Sam. I don’t understand shit because you’ve been crying for a month straight. I’m trying to be supportive, but it’s a little hard when every time I try to comfort you, I get brushed off.”
“I have the disease!”
“You…” The left side of my face went numb. “Wait, how do you know?”
“The first signs are balance issues. Remember when I fell down those stairs last month?”
“So what? I regularly fall on my head. I ran into a wall yesterday. That doesn’t make me sick, it just makes me stupid as fuck.”
“I forget things.”
“So do I. Remember when I biked to work the other day? Well, when I was getting ready to leave, I spent fifteen minutes searching for my car. I was on the phone with cops reporting it missing when it hit me that it hadn’t been stolen – I was just a dumbass.”
Sam sighed, long and heavy. “I understand you’re trying to make me feel better, but nothing you say will change what’s coming. Aside from me showing the early signs of the disease, the reason I know I have this is because pretty much everyone on my mom’s side has died from it – including, I think, Sullivan. I’ve been combing through the family tree, and I’m telling you, Keith, my deranged ancestors are falling from the branches.”
What was she saying? None of it made sense. Sam was the picture of health, or at least she had been until her mother passed. And now she was trying to tell me she was dying? No way would I accept that. “Okay, look, I’ll talk to Jake and ask for a loan. We’ll get you the finest doctors. If they’re on the East Coast, we’ll go there. If they’re in Europe, we’ll go there. Medical trials? Whatever it takes. Anything we have to do, Samantha, we’ll fight this together.”
Sam raised her head slowly and sluggishly. I noticed then, the light had faded from her eyes. Sam wasn’t Sam anymore. I knew that look of defeat. I’d seen it in Jake’s eyes after the kidnapping, and I’d seen it again in my own while in the midst of my drug issues. The hell if I’d let despair take my girl!
“There is no fighting this.” Her voice matched the gloom in her eyes.
I swallowed the rising lump in my throat. This could not be happening.
Sam continued to rattle off words that laid siege to my ears. “Once the symptoms start, they get progressively worse. As my brain cells die off, mental illness will kick in, and I’ll become just like her, spewing hate and vitriol to those I love. Most with Huntington’s disease first start seeing symptoms in their early thirties, and then death comes 10 to 15 years later. I’m twenty-eight, Keith.”
Sam paused as if waiting for my reply, but I was too stunned to formulate any coherent words. So she continued.
“By the end, I’ll be completely gone, bed-ridden in a facility. My mother never got that far because the disease messed with her ability to swallow and she basically starved to death.”
Tears welled in my eyes as I shook my head. No, way could I accept this. Not Sam. “No.”
Now she was out of her chair, comforting me, her hand gliding through my hair. She held me tight as she repeated over and over, “I’m so sorry. I’m just so sorry.”
“What about… what about all the things we want to do together?”
She shook her head, and the finality of it all ripped my heart in two.
“We can’t. Not anymore.” She spoke in hushed tones, all her strength depleted. “It’s why I’ve been crying so much. I’ve been trying to come to terms with it. And today I finally accepted what I’ve known all along. This horrible disease ismyfuture, but God help us, Keith, it won’t be yours.”
33
Samantha: Dead End
