Chapter 6 - The Calm Before the Storm
The nine days leading up to Grace’s surgery were the busiest, most peaceful days Nathan had ever known. Every morning, he woke up early, made her breakfast, and then they’d drive to Mercy General for pre-op appointments: blood work, EKGs, CT scans, meetings with her surgical team, her oncologist, a nutritionist, a social worker. Nathan went to every single one, carrying a leather notebook he’d bought specifically for the occasion, writing down every word the doctors said, asking a hundred questions, bringing a voice recorder so he didn’t miss anything. Grace watched him, amazed, as he argued with the insurance company over coverage for a targeted therapy drug, as he researched clinical trials between appointments, as he made her a giant whiteboard calendar for the kitchen with every surgery date, chemo round, and follow-up appointment written in bright, bold marker.
“You know,” she said one night, as they lay in bed together, his arm wrapped around her, tracing slow circles on her arm, “I forgot how bossy you are when you care about something.”
He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Bossy? I’m thorough. There’s a difference.”
She tilted her head up, smiling at him. “Thank you. For all of this. For not letting me push you away. I don’t think I could have done this alone.”
“You’ll never have to,” he said, leaning down and kissing her softly. “Never again.”
Three days before the surgery, Nathan took her on a trip down memory lane. He picked her up after a doctor’s appointment, blindfolded her, and drove her to the small diner in Alexandria where they’d had their first date 10 years prior. He’d called ahead, asked the owner to reserve their old booth in the back, and had even tracked down the same milkshake machine they’d used back then, the one that made the extra-thick chocolate shakes Grace had loved so much.
When he took the blindfold off, Grace gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Nathan. Oh my god. How did you…?”
“Called in a few favors,” he said, grinning, as he slid into the booth across from her. The owner, an old Greek man named Gus who’d run the diner for 40 years, came over with two chocolate shakes, setting them down with a wink.
“Good to see you two lovebirds back,” he said. “Haven’t seen you since you got engaged in this very booth. Congrats on the baby, by the way—” He stopped, his eyes widening when he saw Grace’s pale face, the dark circles under her eyes, and Nathan shook his head quickly, giving him a small smile.
“Not yet, Gus. But soon. Thanks for the shakes.”
Gus nodded, backing away slowly, and Grace picked up her shake, taking a slow sip, her eyes wet. “I can’t believe you remembered this place. I haven’t thought about it in years.”
“I think about it all the time,” Nathan said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the crumpled photo booth strip they’d taken that night, the one where he’d crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, and Grace had laughed so hard she’d snort-laughed, her hand covering her mouth. “I keep this in my wallet. Have since that night. Even when we were fighting, even when I was sleeping in the guest room, I had this.” He slid it across the table to her, and she picked it up, running her finger over the faded photo, tears falling onto the paper.
“I was so happy that night,” she whispered. “I remember thinking, ‘This is it. This is the man I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with.’ And then I got sick, and I thought I’d ruined it all.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “We’re still here. We’re still us. And we’ve got a lot more first dates ahead of us.”
After the diner, he drove her to the small park in Arlington where he’d proposed, on a cold December night five years prior. They sat on the same wooden bench, looking out at the frozen fountain (it was July, but Nathan had brought a blanket, and they wrapped it around their legs), and he pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket. Grace’s eyes widened when she saw it. “Nathan, what is that?”
“Your ring,” he said, opening it. Inside was her original engagement ring, the simple solitaire he’d saved up for two years to buy, the one she’d stopped wearing two months prior because her fingers had swollen from the chemo. “I found it in your jewelry box last week. Had it resized. It’s a little loose now, but it’ll fit again once the swelling goes down.” He slipped it onto her left hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “Where it belongs.”
Grace stared at the ring on her finger, then back at him, and smiled through her tears. “I love you, Nathan Brooks. More than anything in the world.”
“I love you too, Grace Marie Brooks,” he said, leaning in and kissing her, the sun setting behind them, painting the sky pink and orange. “And we’re gonna beat this. I promise.”
The night before the surgery, they stayed home, ordering takeout from their favorite Chinese place, watching old movies, and talking about the future. Grace told him she wanted to adopt a baby girl, one with his brown eyes and his stubborn streak, and Nathan told her he’d already started researching adoption agencies, had filled out half the paperwork the week prior. She told him she wanted to quit her job at the hospital and go back to school to become a nurse practitioner, and he told her he’d pay for every single class, no questions asked. They made a list of all the things they wanted to do: a trip to Italy, a cross-country road trip with their future kids, building a big house in the country with a porch and a big backyard for a dog. For the first time since she’d gotten her diagnosis, Grace let herself hope. She let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they’d get to have all of it.
At 10 p.m., Nathan turned off the TV, pulling her into his arms, and held her tight. “You should try to sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
She nodded, burying her face in his chest, her voice small. “Nathan? If something goes wrong tomorrow—if I don’t make it—”
“Hey,” he said, cutting her off, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him. “Don’t. Don’t even go there. You are gonna make it. We’ve got too much to do, remember? Italy. The baby. The big house in the country. You can’t leave me to do all that alone.” He kissed her forehead, soft and firm. “I’ll be right outside the OR the whole time. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be there when you wake up. I promise.”
May you like
She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath, and nodded. “Okay. I believe you.”
But as she fell asleep in his arms, Nathan lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d promised her she’d be okay. He’d promised her they’d have all those things. But he knew the numbers. He knew 42% was less than half. He knew the surgery was risky, that the cancer was aggressive, that even if she survived the surgery, the chemo and radiation would be brutal. But as he looked down at her, her face soft in sleep, her hand resting on his chest, he made a silent vow to whatever god was listening: he’d do anything. He’d give anything. Just let her live. Let them have their future. That was all he asked.
