“Stomach and pancreatic cancer.”
Robert put his fingers on his lips and rubbed them.
“She’s scared, Robert. She needs me.”
“Of course she does.” He moved a little closer to her. “Go to her, help her.”
“Robert! She’s going to die!” Debbie exclaimed and then broke down again, leaning forward and crying into her hands. He moved over and pulled her into his arms.
“She’s a hard woman to deal with sometimes,” Debbie said, wanting to talk to him. “But I love her.”
Debbie poured it all out. Micky had helped Debbie find herself when she was young and so lost in a world she didn’t understand. Micky gave her the confidence to come out. Debbie was forever grateful to Micky for changing her life.
“Deb, I want you to do whatever you need to do. Don’t worry about us here; we’ll be fine.”
“What about Gini?”
He smiled to try to ease her pain. “You’re worried about our warrior? You know she’ll be okay. I’ll figure something out. You just be with Micky.”
“Thank you, Robert.” Debbie lay back against him. He could always comfort her. He was the best friend she’d ever had.
They sat for a few minutes in silence, then a quiet voice said, “Rob… ber.”
They both looked up to see Gini standing at the end of the couch. “Be… uff, sad.”
Debbie immediately sat up, then stood and went to Gini. “Baby, you need to be sleeping. Go on back to bed. We’re all going to go sleep.”
Gini hugged tight to Debbie. “Dee… bee, love. No… uff, be, sad. Dee… bee, love.”
“Thank you, Gini, I love you too. Everything will be all right, you’ll see, all right.” She laid her cheek on the top of Gini’s head. She could feel Gini’s reassuring love all around her.
Had Gini been standing there and heard the conversation, Robert wondered, or was her sixth sense in full gear? Whichever, he knew she was what Debbie needed to feel better.
When Debbie went back to her room, Micky was sitting on the side of the bed putting her shoes on.
“What are you doing?” Debbie asked.
“I need to go; this is problematic for you. You have Gini to take care of. I’ll be fine.”
“Micky, please. Get back in bed. It’s late, and you need to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day. Let’s take care of the world’s problems in the morning.”
“It could be my last day.” Micky lay back on the bed, her legs still hanging over the side.
Debbie took off her shoes.
The next three weeks were grueling. Debbie commuted to Mass General every day to be with Micky. The prognosis worsened once they realized the cancer had spread to Micky’s liver. The doctors told Debbie Micky was too weak to start an effective chemo regime. They’d start with radiation. Micky refused to try the new immunotherapy.
Every night Debbie went back to a house full of loving family. Church people brought more food to the house than they could eat, Lisa and Vicky took turns helping Alyssa take care of Gini while Robert worked, and Kensy was there to hold Debbie’s hand and wipe her tears. It felt wrong for a moment, to have this beautiful woman beside her when Micky was so ill, but she knew it was always like this when someone was dying. You felt like you’d gotten away with something, still being healthy and alive. You’re lucky, Debbie, and don’t forget it, she said to herself fiercely. Don’t take one moment of it for granted.
“Cat… ter… rin,” Gini said with glee when she and Robert opened the front door.
“Oh, honey, look at you.” Catherine threw her arms around Gini.
The friends had kept in constant contact over the years with their video calls, and any time Catherine was in Boston she spent some time at the Youngs’ house.
“Robert, Gini, I’d like you to meet Jose Perez. Honey, he’s my Robert.”
“Be… uff, en… gage… ted.”
“Nope, married!” Catherine held out her left hand and put Gini’s fingers on her wedding ring.
“No!” Gini gasped. “Cat…ter…rin, be, marry?”
“Yep. And… I’m going to have a little girl in about five months.”
The two men stood watching their wives’ happy moments.
“Congratulations,” Robert said. “Come on in.”
Gini put her arm around Catherine, and they walked into the great room.
With no hope in sight, Debbie brought Micky to hospice in New Haven, so she’d be close. The second week in February, Micky passed. She left strict instructions that she didn’t want a funeral and that everything she owned go to Debbie. The hospital she’d worked at in Providence had a small memorial in remembrance of Michelle Lucinda Lawrence. Debbie, Robert, and Gini went. Micky thought she didn’t have any friends, but there was nothing but kind words, praise for her fine work, and loving feelings from people she had touched.
When they drove around the circle in New Haven on their way home, Debbie asked Robert to take her to the church.
She slowly walked down the aisle to a pew three rows back from the front and sat down. Robert and Gini stood in the sanctuary doorway.
Reverend Gilbert walked up to them. “Robert, Gini, how nice to see you on this fine day.”
Robert lifted his head for the reverend to look inside the church. He patted Robert on the shoulder, folded his hands in front of him, and went to Debbie’s side. Facing her, he put his arm on the back of the pew and spoke to her. She lowered her head into her hands. The reverend placed his hand on her head, lifted his face to the cross, and said a prayer out loud.
“Cat… ter… rin, see… uff, tum… yee.”
“What about my tummy. It’s not so big.” Catherine stood and
