Together—You and Me - The Epilogue

Dean leaned over and took her hands. "It will be all right." He looked as his watch. "We should be going. Hospital, right?" Doctor Edwards nodded. Dean's eyes moved from Amy to the doctor still sitting on the chair. "Go ahead and wait for me in the reception room. There's some paper work I'm sure they want me to complete."

The doctor abruptly stood, sending the chair rolling back until it hit the wall. Amy moved toward the door and stopped. "I'll be right out," Dean said.

Amy left and Dean looked at the doctor. "I've been around the block a few times. A doctor won't order that type of test unless he suspects something."

"It's just a test. That's all."

Dean's fist came down hard on the examination table. "Bullshit!"

The doctor could tell Dean was in no mood to argue. He rolled the small chair out from the wall and sat. "I'm not sure, this is not my area of expertise, but the mass in your wife's breast is hard. It's not fatty tissue. I could feel several smaller lumps growing off of the larger one."

"Does Amy have breast cancer?" His words came out hollow and weak.

"I'm not saying that. I don't know. More tests will be needed."

"What is it with doctors and your tests!" Dean looked at the floor and shook his head, avoiding eye contact. "Doctor?" He looked at the man in the white coat sitting quietly. "I've seen a lot of shit in my life. Believe me, I can handle this. Does-my-wife-have-breast-cancer?"

The doctor's tongue wet his upper lip, and then he placed his hand on Dean's knee. "I'm not sure, but I suspect she does."

Dean felt his heart whamming around in his chest. "What's next?"

"Time is our most valuable weapon. If she does indeed have breast cancer, the quicker we move, the better our odds of beating this. It will take a few days for the lab to work on the biopsy. I'll call you as soon as I get the results."

Dean's chest heaved, and he took in slow deep breaths. "That's all we can ask for right now."

Dean shook the doctor's hand and left the room. Amy had been waiting and as soon as Dean entered, she smiled. "All the paper work finished?"

"For now."

Together, they walked out of the office and to their car. Midway there, Dean stopped and put his hands around her waist. Suddenly, he lifted her and twirled her around.

"What was that all about?"

"I love you, Amy." He squeezed her fingers.

They started to walk again taking only a few steps when Amy reached up and grabbed his shoulder. "Is there something I should know? You were in there a long time. You weren't just signing insurance papers."

Dean shook his head. He'd promised himself that he'd never tell a lie to Amy; but the circumstances had changed. No need to upset her. Soon they were in traffic, heading toward the hospital. There were endless papers to sign, more blood drawn and x-rays taken. An hour later, Amy emerged; her neat and tidy business suit seemed disheveled. Her legs were bare and her hair tied into a sloppy ponytail that hung limp behind her back. She walked over and sat beside Dean. "I need to sit for a minute."

"I wish I could have been in there with you."

Amy palmed her eyes. "Uncomfortable, my ass. That hurt like hell!"

Dean put his arm around her shoulder, and Amy leaned on it. She fussed with the buttons on his shirt. In a whisper, she asked. "I have breast cancer, don't I? That's why you took you so long in the office, isn't it?"

Amy heard each of his breaths. She felt his heart beating. She noticed his hands moving through her hair. She took a deep breath then buried her face in the nape of his neck. Dean's strong hand gripped her tighter and he whispered in her ear.

"Your doctor is concerned. You may have an issue with your left breast."

Amy began to cry softly. She found his hand and squeezed it hard.

"If you do, and that's a big if, together you and me; we'll fight it.

*******

For the next several days every time the phone rang, they jumped. Then on Thursday evening the call they waited for, yet never wanted to receive, arrived. They were to meet in the doctor's office at nine the next morning. That night neither could find any peace and the hours seemed like years.

They sat side-by-side in expensive-looking leather chairs, directly in front of a large mahogany desk polished to a luster. Medical books lined the shelves on both sides of the room. They heard the door open, and Doctor Edwards walked in with a folder under his arm. He sat, placed his hands together, and looked at the anxious couple.

He shook his head slightly. "This is never easy." And with those few words, Amy instantly knew what the biopsy revealed.

Amy blurted out, "I have cancer, don't I?" She felt her body turn to water and she melted into the chair.

The doctor's chair scuffed the floor, and he pushed out from his desk. He moved to the front and sat on the edge. He took Amy's shaking hands. "Yes, you do."

Numb with fear, Amy didn't say a word. Dean, always a man of action, and not one to wait, spoke next. "What do we do now?"

"Amy has ductal carcinoma, the most common type of breast cancer. It's in both breasts." Doctor Edwards returned to his desk. Messing with the papers in the folder, he looked at Amy. I'm going to send you to an oncologist, one of the best in the state practices right here in Boulder. He'll detail treatment options."

"What options?" Dean asked.

Doctor Edward looked at Amy sitting silently. "Chemo would be the first, followed by radiation."

Amy's fingers moved through her black hair. "I'll lose my hair?"

"I'm afraid so."

A rueful cry spilled from Amy's lips while Dean sat as calm as a monk during prayer. It was one of the few times in his life that he had no options to call upon.

********

The team of doctors attacked Amy's cancer with every weapon at their disposal. The chemo made her so weak, she slept most of the time. The doses of radiation did indeed cause hair loss. Weak and bald, she left the hospital. There was no more chemo and she had a lifetime worth of radiation all in two weeks.

They were to return to the oncologist in a week to review the final tests. Amy, apprehensive as a cat in a Chinese restaurant, had a bad feeling. She clutched Dean's arm as tightly as her weak grip allowed, as they walked into the doctor's office.

The oncologist looked at the couple sitting in high-back leather chairs. "I'd like to have better news."

Amy held her breath.

"Go on," Dean said.

"The chemo and radiation have reduced the size of the mass, but it's not enough. Basically, we poked the lumps with a stick and they'll be back with a vengeance."

Amy sat quietly, simply too shattered to speak. She heard the words; she knew what he was saying. She squeezed Dean's fingers tighter.

"More chemo? Radiation?" Dean asked.

The doctor shook his head. "No..." He placed his palms flat on the desk. "Are you a numbers person?"

"A lieutenant in my unit always told me 'liars figure and figures lie.' I want facts."

"Very well. The fact is the chemo and radiation didn't work as well as we would have liked. That leaves us with one option."

"And that is?"

The doctor looked squarely into Dean's blue eyes. "Removal of the breasts, and, if need be, the surrounding tissue and lymph nodes."

Amy buried her face into her hands. "No. No. No. No."

"Mr. Bradley, here are the facts. If we do nothing, there is zero chance Amy will live more than a year or two, at most. With a double mastectomy, the prognosis would be nearly ninety percent survival over five years." He looked at Amy. "With the treatments we have, it's not a death sentence anymore. We found it early; the chemo and radiation have it in check. I suggest you think it over, but don't wait too long."

"How early do you recommend?"

"She has to build up her white blood cell count. We can't do surgery until her immune system is back up and functional. I'd like to see her in surgery by the end of this year."

"It's mid-October. That's not a lot of time."

"That, Mr. Bradley, is a commodity we can spare little of."

******

Some men drink. Others do drugs. But for Dean, his coping skill was his woodpile. Everyday before the sun ducked behind the mountains, he'd take his splitting axe from the barn, and sharpen the edge with a file 'til he could shave the hairs from his arm. Then he moved to the woodpile, carefully standing each log on end before bringing the axe down in one thundering blow. The wood would split, rocketing to either side of his splitting stump.

Audrey played with the chickens, scattering cracked corn from small plastic teacups. Willow didn't venture too far from her dad. She kicked some stones, and then sat and watched the wood fly from the stump with every crashing blow. Dean noticed how somber Willow had become, and buried the blade of the axe deep into the stump. He wiped his hands with a rag he pulled from his back pocket and then sat beside his daughter.

"Okay, why the face?"

"It's nothing."

"Ooh, nothing. Normally, you'd chase Audrey's chickens to make her cry. What's wrong?"

"It's Mom."

"Mom's just sick, that's all."

Willow thumped her fist onto a log. "Mom has cancer, doesn't she? And she's going to die; isn't that true?"

"No... where did you hear that?"

"Dad, I'm almost thirteen. I can read. I understand grownup stuff. I read those cancer pamphlets you left out."

Dean gazed at the muddy ground. "I guess my little girl isn't so little anymore." Dean blew out a long breath. "You're right. Mom has breast cancer, but she isn't going to die."

"How do you know?"

"There's a lot of fight in me and a lot in mom. But you leave that worry to me. You can help by just being Willow and being nice to your sister. She's too small to understand."

Willow nodded. Just then the sound of a truck horn broke the still air as a rusty red Ford F-150 turned into the barnyard. The truck's engine shuddered to a halt, and out stepped Dixie Wadsworth, their closest neighbor, wearing a white cowboy hat. Her skintight dark blue jeans looked painted on. Clumps of mud smeared her brown cowboy boots.

At forty-two, Dixie could still turn men's heads. And around the local farms, she drew men like flies to a fresh cow patty. He fixed his eyes on hers, which were the color of the ocean on a bright day. Other than a few cursory glances at her breasts, which pushed out against a red plaid shirt, he wasn't interested.

"Dean, I swear if someone doesn't take that axe away from you, you'll clear-cut the whole state of Colorado."

"Just gettin' ready for winter."

"That's your story, huh?"

"Yeah, and I'm sticking to it."

"Figured you would. Say, the old man and I thought you and Amy could use a little quiet time, if you know what I mean." She winked. "How about if we take Willow and Audrey along with my girls and run into town for a pizza?"

"Oh, I don't know..."

"Ah come on, Dad?" Willow begged.

"It'll do everyone good," Dixie added.

Dean surrendered after an onslaught of 'pretty pleases' from Willow. "All right, Willow, but first take your sister inside and clean her up. She got chicken poop all over her clothes." Dean shook his head. "I don't know why that kid finds chickens so fascinating."

Willow dashed over, grabbed Audrey's hand and they sprinted toward the house.

"How you holding up?"

Dean kicked a stray log. "It's been rough. I had no idea how much work running a household could be. Amy works fulltime, does all the laundry, cooking, cleaning, and takes care of the kids." He stopped speaking for a few seconds, and then his words came pouring out. "We haven't been together for a long time. Amy's been too exhausted. She needs her strength." The words came out faster than he realized, and before he knew it, he managed to tell Dixie more than he ever wanted.

"I told you we'd come and help. Are you too proud to let us womenfolk help out?"

"It's not that. I thought I could handle it."

"Well you can't. I'll get with Amy's friends and we'll be here this weekend."

"But..."

"Ain't no buts about it. You need a break from all of this, too."

Dixie took her hat off, and her hair fell 'round her face framing it in a curtain of hazel. She pulled some over her chest letting it fall, and gentle curls cupped both breasts. She glanced over her shoulder toward Dean's house, and then stood so close to Dean he could smell the shampoo that still lingered in her hair. With her hat in her hands, she spoke softly and said, "If Amy isn't up to taking care of you, I'd be more than happy to keep your plumbing from rusting..." She placed her hat back on, and then winked.

"I won't do that to her. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah I do." She gave Dean a rueful grin. She held her left forefinger to her cheek while her head moved slowly from side to side. "Dean, I'd fuck you in a heartbeat." Dixie adjusted her hat and had almost turned around when she stopped. "Actually, I'd be terribly disappointed if you accepted my offer. They don't make 'em like you anymore."

Dixie gave him a devilish smile as she pushed the cowboy hat back further on her forehead. Willow, with Audrey in tow, scampered out of the house. Dean picked Audrey up and held her in his arms. You listen to your big sister." Audrey nodded. "And, Willow, you listen to Dixie."

"I will, Dad."

Dean hugged his children and placed them into the truck. He rubbed his daughter's head through the truck's window. He looked at Dixie's inscrutable eyes. "Dixie, I appreciate the offer." He caught Audrey's eyes. "But the price of admission is too high for me."

"Some other time, maybe? We're still cool, then? Dixie asked.

"Maybe in another life, but not now; and we're cool, you know that. You drive careful with my children."

"Dean, this weekend the girls will be over and we'll help you out."

The old Ford rumbled to life, and he watched its one taillight as it disappeared down the muddy lane.

*******

Dean jerked the axe out of the stump, and placed it back in the barn. Just as he opened the front door, he saw Amy leaning against the kitchen table. Amy folded her arms across her chest as if she was cold, and cupped her elbows in her hands.

"Willow said Dixie offered to take them into town for pizza."

"It was a nice gesture," Dean said.

"I saw her sniffing around and trying to make a move on you."

"She wasn't making a move on me. Dixie likes to flirt. You know that."

He dropped his coat on the side of a chair. "Willow knows about your cancer."

"How?" Amy walked into the living room with her arms still crossed.

"You were right. We should have told her sooner. Our little girl isn't so little anymore. She's smart and she's worried about you."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her the truth."

"The truth? Did you tell her all about my cancer?"

"Yes. I told her you were going to have your breasts hacked off."

Amy clawed the back of the sofa with both hands. "Hacked off? Is that what you told my daughter?" A tear trickled down her cheek, and she slapped it away with the heel of her hand.

"I don't remember my exact words."

"How could you say that?" Amy's hands tighten into fists. She ran at Dean and pummeled his chest with all her might. Dean tried to grab her hands but she fought and continued to hit him. He caught her hands and held her tight.

"Settle yourself!" Dean yelled. His grip relaxed and she yanked free.

Tears streamed down her face. "I'm facing this all by myself and you tell me to settle down?"

"You're not alone!"

"For now. What's going to happen after the surgery, when you look at my mutilated body? I'll be half a woman. I won't have boobs anymore, and you'll run just like my friend's husband did; just like that senator did to his wife. He didn't have to balls to even wait 'til she died! I'll be half a woman."

"That's not true and you know it."

"Oh, I know it all right. If the doctors were to cut off your dick, and you peed out of a straw, what would you be? Would it be the same? Or would you feel like half a man? Unable to..." Amy's hands tightened and her knuckles turned white. "Unable to make love anymore."

"It won't bother me."

"Liar!" Amy stomped her bare foot.

Amy tore at her shirt, ripping the buttons off and ricocheting them across the room. She threw open her shirt, exposing her breasts. "Look at 'em! 'Cause they won't be here much longer. They'll be hacked off, leaving me half a woman. And all alone without a husband."

"You won't be alone!" Dean screamed.

Amy pounded her fists along the edge of the sofa. "That slutty Dixie is already trying to wedge herself between us. Even before I found out I had cancer, I saw you ogle her when you thought I couldn't see. She's got tits the size of melons, and I won't have any!"

Dean went to move.

"You bastard! Leave me alone!"

Dean tried to grab Amy's hand but she fought his grip, and broke free, running into their bedroom. The door slammed shut with such violence, the photos on the walls shook. He walked toward it and listen. He heard Amy crying. Dean went to turn the doorknob but just as his hand touched the knob, he pulled his hand away. Better let her simmer down.

*******

Dixie brought the kids back a few hours later. Full of pizza, they played together before Dean put them to bed. He sat on the floor, his back pressed against the sofa. None of the lights were on, and only the glow of the fireplace filled the room. He took a wrought iron fire poker, and jammed it into a log sending an army of fiery embers up the chimney.

His eyes watched the flames flicker with blues and oranges that seemed to blend together in a silent dance. Another poke at the log, and another burst of embers erupted. The fire crackled and danced before his tired eyes.

He didn't hear the bedroom door open. Nor did he hear Amy walk over to him; her bare feet made no sound on the oak floor. She touched his shoulder and he jumped, dropping the poker.

"Can we talk?"

"You said to leave you alone. So this bastard did what you asked." Another jab and more embers filled the chimney.

She slid down beside Dean, and she reached for his hand. They sat for the longest time without saying a word.

"I'm sorry. You're not a bastard. I'm going through an awful lot right now, and when I saw Dixie out there sticking her boobs in your face...I'm sorry."

"I've never cheated on you, and I don't plan to start now." Dean blew an angry breath. "I'm going to miss not being able to hold your breasts. I... I like kissing them. It was wrong to tell you it wouldn't make a difference. It does. But you'll never, ever, never be half a woman to me."

"Why are you so sure?" Teary-eyed, her voice cracked.

"When we married, in front of God and all our friends, I promised to be by your side for better or for worse." He made a halfhearted poke at the log. "This certainly isn't the better, but it could be a lot worse."

"How could it be any worse than this?"

Dean stared at the flickering blue and orange flames. "I could lose you..." A hard jab at the burning log nearly knocked it off the fireplace grate.

"I just wish it would be over and done. This waiting is sometimes more that I can handle," Amy confessed.

Dean kept jabbing the burning log, and Amy noticed his anger grew with each thrust. "The Marines have a saying, a code of honor, if you will: Semper Fi. It's Latin and means 'Always Faithful.'"

Dean took another angry jab at the fire, then threw the poker on the granite hearth, and looked at Amy. "I've tried all these years to let the past be the past. I work from sunup to sundown keeping the life I had pushed into the cracks of my being; the dark places of my soul." Dean continued, "I'm sorry, hacked wasn't the word I wanted to use. I've never run from a fight, and I ain't about to start now. I have been and always shall be—Always Faithful—Semper Fi."