c8

Cassie ran a hand over Beth's shiny, thick, wavy brown hair. She remembered with sadness the last time, when the chemo had stolen her glorious hair, but it came back, almost stronger than ever. And unlike with many cancer patients, it hadn't altered its color; it was like before. Rich and full. Beth had carried on—beat it.
But not quite.
Cassie watched her sleeping face for a long time, then finally when it appeared she couldn't get any more insight, she leaned over and kissed her friend's forehead. Then she left the room. She went back to the E.R. locker room where she was alone and ditched the scrubs, putting on her jeans and sweatshirt. She walked a little slowly to her car. Once there, she turned her cell phone back on and listened to a message from Walt. I hope you're okay, Cassie. I understand emergencies. I'm really sorry I couldn't answer when you called—I was in the middle of something. If you want to, you can call me tonight anytime—I'll answer.
Well, she couldn't call Julie or Marty; she had promised. So she called Walt. When he said, "Hey, Cassie," she burst into tears.
"Oh, God, Walt," she sniveled pathetically. "I've had the most awful day."
"Oh, honey," he said so sweetly. "What can I do? Anything. Anything that will make you feel a little better."
"I'm just leaving the hospital…"
"You've been there since seven?" he asked.
"Yeah, but… Oh, Walt," she cried.
"Cassie, you okay to drive home?"
"Yeah," she said, sniffing, wiping the tears and snot off her face with the back of her hand. "Yeah, I'll be okay."
"Just go home, honey. Turn off the phone and concentrate on driving. I'll meet you there."
"It's getting so late…."
"Oh, who cares? I'll see you there. Now you be careful, you sound real shook up."
She sniffed. "I've had an awful day."
"Just hang up, Cass. Don't drive and talk—concentrate. I'm on my way."
 
Cassie had never had anything like this in her life—a man who rushed to her when she was upset. To her complete embarrassment, that was hardly the first phone call she'd made while in tears, but no man in her history had dropped everything and come that fast. Three minutes after she had arrived at home and wept into Steve's long, gray snout, Walt was at the door. He balanced a take-out pizza in one hand and six-pack of beer in the other.
She took one look at him and leaned into his chest, overcome. "Pizza and beer" was all she could say.
"Yeah, I wasn't sure if you'd had anything to eat during your bad day," he said, trying to hug her while balancing everything. "Let me put this stuff down."
Once he'd set his offerings on the table, he put his arms around her and led her to her little living room, sitting down on the couch with her. Steve immediately jumped up and curled beside Walt, wagging, the frog in his mouth.
"What in the world happened today?" he asked, stroking her back with one hand, petting Steve with the other.
"It's a long story," she said.
"We have plenty of time."
"My friend Beth," she began, and went through the whole story. Before she even got to the part where she accidentally found out Beth was in the hospital again, post-surgical, Walt had drawn her up across his lap and held her as if she were a child. Then she told him the rest.
"Oh, man," he said. "Cassie, I've never heard a story like that in my life."
"She went through so much the last time—Mark leaving her and everything—I guess she was trying to go it alone this time. But why? Did she think anyone else would leave her?"
"She couldn't have thought that…"
"I can't imagine what she was trying to do. I thought we helped before. Maybe we just made it harder."
"Aw, honey, I'm sure you didn't do that…"
"I told her that no matter what, I'm in this with her. I'm going to take some time off, make sure I'm available every day after she's discharged, till she's up and around. I can get her through the surgery and recovery. But what if this is the worst case? What if we're losing her?"
"Try not to think that way, honey. Get some more facts. At least wait till you know more."
She looked up at him. "You came," she said.
He ran a hand over her wound-up braid. "Of course I came. I got the impression you needed me."
"Oh, I needed you so much! I can't call Jules or Marty yet. Beth will come around, but I promised. Until she says it's okay, I have to keep my word."
He wiped a big thumb under her eye. "After you give her a little time, she'll start to make sense out of this and you can call your friends."
"Walt, how did you know what to do?"
"What to do?" he asked. "Well, you just cover the essentials—food, drink, company. Anything else, you call the police. Right?"
"But how did you know that? For me? For a girlfriend problem?"
"Well, this is a little more serious than a girlfriend problem," he said. "And, Cassie, you're pretty important to me."
"You're such a good friend," she said, leaning against his chest.
He sighed and said, "I'm trying to be, Cass. You're special. You know that, don't you?"
She ran a hand along his scruffy face. "I do. It means a lot, believe me."
"Good." He smiled. "That's exactly what I want it to mean."