The Mother's Promise(77)

“So?” Alice said. “Another infection?”

“Yes,” Dr. Brookes said. “It’s to be expected because of the way the chemo attacks your white cells.”

Alice got the sense there was more. “But?”

“But it has me concerned.”

“Why?”

Alice glanced at the window. Kate was giving Zoe a hug. Or was it the other way around? As if noticing her discomfort, Sonja moved in close beside Alice.

“We have your test results back,” he continued. “As I explained, we knew your white-cell count was low, that’s why you’ve had recurrent infections. Unfortunately these tests showed your levels are below five hundred cells per cubic millimeter, which makes you a grade-four neutropenic. The most severe kind.”

Alice looked back at Dr. Brookes. “And that means?”

“That means you’ll need to stay in the hospital until your neutrophil levels come up. We need to get you well and can’t risk another infection while your white-cell count is so low. And no more chemo, for the time being.”

“No more chemo?” Now he had her full attention. “But I need chemo. How am I supposed to beat the cancer?”

“Unfortunately your neutropenia makes it very difficult for us to treat your cancer at present,” Dr. Brookes said.

Alice waited, but he didn’t continue. “So what do we do?” she prompted.

“I’d suggest we take a break and when your blood improves we can revisit the chemotherapy, maybe with a different formula. Right now I’d be loath to do anything to deplete your neutrophils further. We’d be risking neutropenic sepsis, which can kill you a lot faster than cancer.”

Alice felt the room swell around her. “But I … I need to be one of the twenty percent.”

Sonja reached for Alice’s hand and gave it a squeeze of solidarity. It was surprisingly comforting. Alice glanced at their intertwined hands—a universal sign of support—and in that second, felt grateful. Then she noticed Sonja’s shirtsleeve had ridden up a few inches, revealing a purplish-black bruise. Immediately, Sonja tugged the sleeve down again.

Dr. Brookes laid a hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Let’s just take it one thing at a time, Alice. First, a few days in the hospital.”

Alice nodded repeatedly, calming herself. She could do that, she told herself. She could take things a day at a time. Like Dr. Brookes said, when her blood improved they would revisit chemo with a different formula. A better formula, this time. The right formula.

“Do you need Sonja to make arrangements for your daughter?”

“Zoe has somewhere to go,” Alice said, and she glanced back at the window, trying to ignore the fact that Kate and Zoe stood arm in arm, looking very much like mother and daughter.





58

“Mom?”

A week after her admission to the hospital, Alice was back home. At the sound of Zoe’s voice, she sat upright in bed. It was crazy how her daughter—her voice, her smell, even her footfalls—could create such a yearning in her. She recalled the feeling from when Zoe was a little girl—standing outside her classroom at the end of the day, waiting to feel her sweet, soft body in her arms, to smell her sweet little head. Sometimes motherhood was a hunger, Alice thought. An addiction. Most people were gradually weaned from it as their child got older. Alice had got to indulge in it longer than most.

Zoe appeared in the doorway. “You’re home!”

She crossed the bedroom floor in three giant steps. She looked as though she was going to launch herself at Alice, but she seemed to stop herself, and she gave her a gentle hug instead. Alice closed her eyes and tried to drink her in, the way she had when she was little. Zoe stayed there in her arms until Alice let go. After an eternity, she did.

“When did you get back?” Zoe asked, sitting up.

“An hour ago. Sonja drove me. How was Kate’s?”

It was a silly question, since Alice knew how it had gone at Kate’s. Zoe had visited her at the hospital every day and given her the lowdown. (“It’s a bit weird,” Zoe had said one day. “Especially when Jake and Scarlett are there. They all eat dinner together in the dining room and talk about their days!”) But Alice could see that Zoe didn’t hate it there. She smiled when she talked about them. As hard as it had been, imagining Zoe with another family, it had also been a relief, knowing that she was safe and happy. It allowed Alice to concentrate on getting well.

“It was okay,” she said. “But I’m happy to be home.”

“Have they rescheduled your next chemo session?” Zoe asked. She’d asked about this each time she’d visited—she’d obviously been Googling, and she’d come to the same conclusion that Alice had—if the chemo stopped, it wasn’t good news.

“I have a meeting with the doctors next week to discuss next steps,” Alice said carefully. And she smiled brightly. Dr. Brookes had told her she should remain optimistic and that’s exactly what Alice planned to do.

*

Alice was having coffee with Sonja. And if that wasn’t strange enough, the whole thing had been Alice’s idea. This morning, when Sonja called around unannounced to check on her, Alice found herself suggesting it. There was only so much sitting around the house someone could do, and Alice didn’t exactly have a huge selection of people offering to take her out and about.