Page 281 of Devil’s Disciples

I was in shock. I took two steps, stumbled, and braced myself against the wall. “Give me a minute. I can’t get my legs to work.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” she said. “We’re going home.”

I wanted to run all the way back to her house, screaming the entire way. Hand in hand, we’d run up the stairs – two at a time – and out onto the deck. We’d watch the sunset while we kissed and sipped champagne.

But I couldn’t take one single step. Since seeing the results of the scan, my legs were made of rubber.

I loved her with every ounce of my being. Her forever had somehow managed to grab ahold of my forever and take it with it, whisking it past the one obstacle that prevented us from having a future together.

My outlook now included a long, prosperous life of loving one another.

“Do I need to get a wheelchair?” she asked.

“Just…” I paused and drew a breath. “Look at me.”

She turned to face me. Tears streamed down her face. I wondered what she must be thinking, and realized she feared the worst.

“The scan. They did two of them,” I said, my voice cracking from emotion. “Three, actually.”

She bit against her lower lip and nodded. “We’ll get another opinion. We can fly you to Houston. Come on, let’s go. I hate this place. It stinks in here. The doctors are stupid, too. They don’t know shit.”

“The tumor,” I muttered. “It’s…it’s gone.”

She stopped in her tracks. “Gone?” Her eyes shot wide. “As in gone?”

“Gone. Completely.” I pressed my palms to my thighs and struggled to catch my breath. “After the third test…they said what they believed was cancer was nothing but…an odd brain swelling. It was brought on from hitting my head…too many times. I’ve got a free bill of health. Well, kind of.”

She raised both fists, looked at the ceiling, and shouted thank you.

“Holy shit.” I drew a long breath and then shook my head. “I can’t believe this is over.”

“You don’t have to come back?” she asked. “No more tests? They’re sure?”

“That’s what took so long. They couldn’t believe it, either.”

“It’s a miracle,” she said. “An answered prayer. Let’s celebrate.”

She could believe what she wanted to believe. I knew it was nothing more than a misdiagnosis. A doctor pressed for time, attempting to make as much money as he could from HMO payments, scouring a series of images and making a rash judgement.

Prayer, or no prayer, the outcome would be the same. It wasn’t close to a miracle. It was simple science. I hit my head, my brain swelled. According to the doctor, the three concussions I’d suffered hadn’t left me with much room for any more.

“I can’t hit my head again,” I said. “They said it could cause severe damage. Brain damage.”

“There’ll be no more fights with football players.” She adjusted her purse and gestured toward the door. “I can tell you that much.”

I drew one last breath of the medicinal air, took her hand in mine, and smiled. “Let’s go plan our life together.”

105

Abby

I’d spent nearly two months acting as if Porter’s condition wasn’t an issue, while in the back of my mind the possibility of him truly being sick festered like an infectious wound. Now that the nightmare was over, it was time, as Porter said, to plan our life together.

With Porter dressed in a new pair of swim shorts and me in a two-piece bikini, we sat on the deck and talked about renting surfboards.

“I’m still processing it,” he said. “It’s crazy. After a scare like that, you look at life completely different. Completely.”

Following my successful cancer treatment, the sky was bluer, trees were greener, and the air smelled fresher. I couldn’t spend enough time outdoors enjoying all of God’s offerings. I bought a bicycle, a pair of running shoes, and a shopping cart filled with running outfits.