See You in the Morning

10 // Etude

Lyla's long ponytail swishes across her back, the tempo synchronizing with her steps as she crosses the Sherrill's threshold for the third time.

A bead of sweat shimmies down her face. Blinking, she sets another box onto the floor, this one filled with items from home that decorated Lucas's hospital room for the past six or so weeks. She straightens her back and fans herself with her hands.

"That's the last one from my car," she calls across the room.

A tall, balding redheaded man in his fifties pops his head from the dining room. Chuck Sherrill smiles at the young woman, his blue eyes crinkling with gratitude.

"Thanks, Lyla," he responds. "You know, you didn't have to do this."

"Of course I did," she says, dusting off her hands.

"Dorrie and I could have managed just fine," he says. "And Darren could have done the heavy lifting–"

"I'm a lot stronger than I look," Lyla teases with a smile. "Besides, Darren's fingers are basically insured, and we don't want him to sprain a pinky."

Right on cue, Darren enters through the front door, carrying a particularly bulky tub of medical equipment.

"She's right, even if it did sound slightly emasculating," he grunts with a grin.

"Please keep emasculating him," Lucas calls out from his wheelchair as he and his mother join the group from the hallway. Despite his comedic tone, Lucas wears a tired expression, his handsome features sunken and hollow.

"Lucas!"

Lyla steps towards him and gently drapes her arms around him from behind, carefully avoiding his PICC line.

"Hey you," Lucas says softly. He breathes deep, taking in all her warmth and lotus-dipped perfume and closes his eyes.

The weeks following his hemipelvectomy were some of their toughest times together as a couple.

Not only did the surgeon remove part of his pelvis, but she also cut the muscles surrounding the bone and hip. The surgeon explained that while the aim of the surgery was to try and obliterate as much of the sarcoma as possible, Lucas would still require radiation therapy to ensure that all of the remaining cancer cells are killed.

The prospect of undergoing further rounds of chemical torture after a life-altering surgery was not an easy one to accept, especially for a talented college basketball star who would not be able to walk without the help of a cane for the rest of his life.

Lucas sank into a depression as he grappled with his new reality. His mental and emotional state greatly impacted his recovery, slowing his healing to an agonizing crawl.

Desperate for options, the Sherrills inquired about clinical drug testing. The doctors were hesitant at first, wanting instead to treat the sarcoma as aggressively as possible. But Lucas would not let it go, not after he began to hope for a way out of his cursed and convoluted cancer maze.

Lyla had fought him on this decision, arguing that it would be more prudent to follow the doctor's suggestions. He said she couldn't possibly understand what it was like to be completely powerless while an invisible war raged inside his body, with toxic chemicals fighting uncontrollable toxic growths. He said she couldn't possibly know the hell of having so many open sores in his mouth that his gums bleed constantly, or that when he's not shitting himself he is hallucinating from all the ifosfamide being pumped into his veins.

She had cried, saying that watching him die was already a hell all on its own, but what choice did he give her if he didn't want to try to fight the cancer with everything he's got?