She brought coffee.
We sat outside.
“I keep thinking about that bag,” I said.
She laughed.
“My supervisor never lets me forget it.”
“What if you hadn’t come back?”
Rachel looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“Would you have noticed the medication pattern?”
“Eventually, maybe.”
“Would I have said anything?”
She reached across the table.
“You did say something.”
“Because you came back.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You said it because when I asked if you wanted me to stay, you said yes.”
I started crying.
Rachel squeezed my hand.
“I opened the door. You walked through it.”
That was generous.
But over time I understood what she meant.
Rescue rarely feels like one person carrying another out of a burning building.
Sometimes it is one person asking a clear question.
Do you want me to stay?
And another person finally answering honestly.PART 6 – Cancer Was Not the Thing Destroying My Life
