Page 5 of The Space He Left
She reached for my hand, and I let her take it. Her fingers were cold, and I could feel them trembling.
"I was so scared you'd think I was being dramatic. It's been so long since we talked, and I know you have your own life now, your wife and the baby coming..." She looked down at our joined hands. "I didn't have anyone else to call, Jack. I'm so sorry."
"Don't apologize. Never apologize for needing help." I squeezed her hand gently. "Tell me what's happening. What did the doctors say?"
Madison's eyes filled with tears. "Breast cancer. Stage two. They found it during a routine exam a few weeks ago, and it's... It's aggressive. They want to start treatment immediately, but the side effects..." She shuddered. "I'm so scared, Jackie. I don't know if I'm strong enough to fight this."
The old nickname hit me like a punch to the chest. No one had called me Jackie in years. Not since high school. Not since Madison.
"Hey." I reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. "You're the strongest person I know. Remember when you stood up to Brad Morrison when he was bullying that kid in our chemistry class? You were half his size, but you didn't back down."
A small smile flickered across her face. "I'd forgotten about that."
"I haven't forgotten anything about you." The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I saw something shift in her expression. Something hopeful and vulnerable that made my chest tighten.
"Jackie..." she whispered.
"What do you need from me?" I asked, steering the conversation back to safer ground. "What can I do to help?"
"Just... stay with me tonight? I know it's a lot to ask, especially on your anniversary, but I can't bear the thought of being alone right now. The chemo starts tomorrow, and after that..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I just need to know someone cares. That someone remembers who I used to be before all this."
I thought about Harper, probably asleep in our bed by now, probably wondering when I'd be home. I thought about theanniversary dinner we'd never finished, the celebration we'd never had.
But I looked at Madison, small and scared and so different from the confident girl who'd left Willowbrook all those years ago, and I knew I couldn't leave her. Not tonight.
"I'll stay," I said.
The relief on her face was immediate and overwhelming. "Thank you," she breathed. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you."
"You don't need to repay me. That's what friends do."
Friends. The word felt inadequate, but it was all I could offer.
Madison shifted in the bed, wincing slightly. "They have a recliner that pulls out. The nurses said family members use it sometimes."
I helped her get comfortable, adjusting her pillows and making sure she had water within reach. The simple acts of care felt natural, necessary. This was what I was good at – taking care of people, solving problems, being the person others could count on.
"Jackie?" Madison's voice was drowsy now, the pain medication clearly taking effect.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry about your anniversary. Harper must hate me."
I thought about Harper's reaction at the restaurant, her immediate concern for Madison's well-being, her insistence that I do whatever I could to help. "She doesn't hate you. She's worried about you."
"She sounds like an angel."
"She is."
Madison was quiet for a long moment, and I thought she might be falling asleep. Then she spoke again, so softly I almost didn't hear her.
"I used to dream about you coming back for me. Isn't that silly?"
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. But I didn't let go of her hand.
My phone buzzed with a text from Harper:How is she? How are you?
I looked at Madison, now sleeping peacefully for the first time in who knew how long, and typed back:She's resting. It's bad, but she's strong. I’m going to stay the night.
