Rebecca tried not to be worried, but that seemed a little too much like suicide. She'd grown up with worry, lived cheek-to-cheek with it since that first extra visit to see the doctor and the x-ray that followed. And now she was here again, ten years older maybe, but in a blue gown all the same, feeling very small and sixteen again and scared. Not worrying would probably have killed her.

It had been just a shadow of course, but what a shadow. How many months had she spent boxing that shadow? Wrestling that shadow? How many nights knocked flat on her back because of that shadow? And every time she'd felt so tired she could barely move, she could have sworn she could feel its shadow teeth gnawing at her, digging into her. Clawing away at her.

Tell someone who's had chemo meds pushed into their veins year after year not to worry, and they'll worry plenty.

She had been good with her diet, she had been great with her exercise, and these little checkups were supposed to be a formality, or so they told her. But she'd come in today and immediately sat down and chatted with the nurse—something she only did when she was nervous. And the nurse hadn't really laughed at any of her jokes, had barely even smiled, and that was a huge uh-oh. A monstrous neon uh-oh that was flickering on and off all the way through the examination, and had got even brighter and more horribly dazzling when the nurse said, “to just wait here a moment,” and that “Doctor Ellis would be in to see her.”

What could there be that he could say? She kind of already knew, didn't she? What else was there to say at this point except something big. She hadn't gone through the last few years expecting a moment alone with a doctor to be anything but bad news. And so, when Ellis came in, and sat down across from her, taking off his glasses for a minute to rub his nose, she did the only thing she could do. She laughed. She couldn't help it.

It wasn't a big laugh, but it was good to let out all the same. Ellis blinked. He seemed about as confused as she felt hurt.

"Did you want to talk about it?" was all he said after a moment.

Ellis wasn't a bad man. He wasn't detached or impersonal, but then again, it wasn't his body he was sitting across from. It was hers. Her stupid body that just couldn't seem to get rid of that shadow monster, hiding deep in her bones, no matter what they tried.

"Not, really, no," she said, and then, just as she couldn't help laughing, she couldn't help crying, either. And she just let it out, sob after sob, racking her, and they didn't even look at her file together. It was still closed on Ellis' desk. Her stupid file with its stupid stack of remissions, resurgences, and remissions.

Ellis got up then and gave her back an awkward pat—he was probably used to doing this sort of thing, Rebecca thought, completely out of nowhere. It wasn't Ellis' first rodeo.

"When do I... when do I need to book a treatment?" she said at last.

And that was that, for her. She’d gone through the seven stages of mourning in record time this time round. Grieving for yet another year or more of her life that she'd have to give over to the Big C, to fighting the shadow in her bones. She would probably need to give notice at school. They could find a substitute, she was sure, and since it was before the start of the school year, it wasn't like her students would miss anything from her at all. She hoped she was still good enough friends with Marcy, even though they hadn't spoken much in a little while. Marcy was the only person she was remotely close to, who might be able to drive her home from treatments, if things went badly.

But Ellis hadn't said anything yet, and that silence was starting to make her uneasy.

"When will I be able to go in?" she asked again, and there was a little twinge of terror in her voice. She could hear it, the ragged saw of it. "Doc?"

"I...well..." He looked pale, and then he did the most horrifying thing of all. He reached out and patted her hand. "Rebecca, I..."

And then the hole in the pit of her stomach yawned wide.

"Can we just...can we just go over the results?" he said, and he sounded lost now too. And that was ten times as scary as waiting in her hospital gown feeling like she was sixteen again. Because Doctor Ellis was old enough to be her father, almost old enough to be her grandfather for crying out loud, and if the two of them both sounded like Hansel and Gretel lost in the woods, what did that say about the world? What did that say about anything at all?

*

She was standing by her car, her phone cradled listlessly in her hand. She could barely remember anything about the last hour except the strangled heartbeat in her ears that had threatened to drown out every conversation from then till now.

Not only malignant, Ellis had told her, but terminal. While there could be treatments, he didn't think any of them would have a positive outcome, and neither did anyone he had consulted with. Less than ten percent he had said. And the number rolled round and round in her head even as she stood there. Less than ten percent.

Somehow, she was on the phone with Marcy. Somehow, she had called Marcy in the middle of all the walking out of the clinic and through the parking lot. She could hear Marcy's voice on the other end of the line, telling her it would be okay, that it would all be okay. It was only then that Rebecca noticed that she’d been crying, that she'd been standing near her car crying for nearly five minutes.

"Do you need me to come get you?"

Rebecca wiped her eyes and wanted to just say yes. She just wanted someone to come and pick her up, and take her home to rest, to sleep, to hide, to bundle her up in a blanket and stay with her until the end. Ten years of fighting, and all that was left was Doctor Ellis' stupid ten percent.

"No, no I'm good," she said. "I'm good," and tried to make sure she meant it. She would get in the car, she would focus, she would rein herself in, and she would get by. She would need to put in a call to the school, of course, but now the hopeful ending of that conversation, of some kind of "See you back next year" tagged onto the end of it, was hollow and echoed all the way through her head. This wasn't exactly how she thought the day was going to go, not even close.

The sun was beating down on the parking lot, baking the afternoon air, and it was more that than any stiff-necked sense of strength that got her back into her car. No sense getting sunstroke on top of everything else.

The rise and swoop of the mountains shimmering way off in the distance caught her eye. She still had a few weeks left, plenty of time between now and when she would absolutely need to let the school know about the situation, and she was tired.

She was tired of having to put so much of her life on hold for this shadow in her body, this gnawing creature that didn't just chew through her bones like some ravenous dog; it chewed up her life. 

She turned out of the parking lot and made her way back to her little apartment in the south end of town, trying to clear her head of negative thoughts but failing.

How much of her life had been put on hold? How many of any of the things she'd wanted to do with her life had been put up on a shelf, put off to the side in order to keep that ravenous dog at bay?

She had time. She still had time.

But for what? And how long? ‘Six to eight months,’ Ellis had said to her after they both had a little cry. ‘That's the best estimate I can give you.’ What could she do in six months? The mountains, weaving along the horizon kept drawing her eye. Maybe she could learn ballet, or run with bulls, or any of the wild things that sprang to mind. Or just get out and explore the world that financially always seemed out of grasp. She could definitely do that.

Her building wasn't anything she'd miss. The tired stucco, yellowing from the fumes, bleaching in the summer, cracked and badly patched. It had been a home for a little while, but even with her keys in her hand, even with thoughts of just escaping flitting through her head, she didn't think it had ever been home. 

Home was a place where you curled up on the couch, coffee cradled in your hands and listened to the rain against the window. Home was a place you could sink into and feel complete. But Albuquerque hadn't felt like that, not since she'd moved here years ago. Her place was close enough to the hospital, and that was really it. Everything in her life had been built out from her hospital stays, and now even those were coming to a close. Besides, she could barely even see the mountains from what passed as her balcony on the fourth floor.

Was that what she wanted to do? To see the mountains? She drifted through the front door, not even locking it behind her as she usually did. What would it matter if anything bad happened to her? What could possibly be worse than this now?

She opened her laptop, tapping idly through some of the open tabs on Google. So many of them seemed like nonsense now, and it was funny how that was. How just a few hours ago she had been looking at maybe getting a dog (a small one, of course, it was all the super would allow). At least it would be another entity around the house. But how could she do that knowing she would need to...would have to...

She closed the tab with an angry click. Then did the same to the tab open offering better on-the-job training. It was a little awe-inspiring how much of her life had just ceased to matter. But one of the tabs she sat and looked at for a little while.

Marcy had sent her a link, just a few weeks after the end of the last school year, when Marcy and her boyfriend had gone on a cross-country trek to celebrate another summer of freedom. It was for a kayaking trip in the Rocky Mountains.

Rebecca stared at the photos in the cool dark of her apartment. There was something about the water in the photos, photos that she had glared at in envy only the day before. If only, she had said to herself then. If only. Until a few hours ago, she still needed to make sure she made space in her life for fighting the good fight.

But the good fight was over, it seemed. And here were mountains high enough up they seemed to almost nudge against the sky, some of them shrouded in snow in the morning light. And the lake there, where a breeze rippled across, it looked so clean and clear that she thought just dipping her arm in it would be like filling herself with light and life.

She had some savings. Not a lot, but enough maybe to spend a couple days up in that cool, clear place in Montana. Besides, what would she be saving for, now? She made a few calls.

It was easy enough to book a trip. And somehow, even just making the calls, she felt a little better. Stronger. Not that it would matter much, of course. In the end (and that end was so close), she would be back in a hospital bed. But for the next little while, she could get out—out of the city, and maybe see stars close enough that if she made a wish on one, if she prayed on one, the prayer might reach the ear of God.

She booked a room at a motel in a place called St. Mary, just a breath away from the park, for the day after tomorrow. She didn't know how long it would take her to drive there, but it would be nice to take her time, just wander her way up and through the Rockies, stopping whenever she felt tired, or stopping just to stop. It would be nice to do that, she thought, going through her closet looking for some things to throw into the duffle bag she always had on hand for any overnights at the hospital. It was nice to pack for something other than that. She could make a good two weeks out of the trip before deciding on what else needed to be done. She tossed a few tank tops into the bag, a couple pairs of shorts. She might need to pick up some hiking shoes on her way out of town, or anywhere along the way, but that would be fine.

Rebecca paused for a second and pulled out a blue dress she’d bought over a year ago. She was never really much for dresses most of the time, but every now and then, she had this mad need to go looking for one, in case she ever actually wanted to go out dancing. This one, though, was far too nice for a club, an off-the-shoulders affair that lightly hugged around her waist. She'd loved it the moment she saw it, and especially how it seemed to bring a fire to her eyes. She slid it into a garment bag and hung it over the bedroom door.

She'd go out when she got there. It wouldn't matter where, but if she were lucky, she might find someplace nice. She would slip into this dress and she would go out for dinner and spend an hour or two playing at being someone else, someone who hadn't just been handed a death sentence. And it would be nice.

She touched her hand to her cheek and realized she’d been crying again.