I felt as if I were slightly suspended in the air, a few feet off the ground, but then the words, “I now pronounce you husband and wife” brought me back down, and I sensed the silky sand between my toes, the dappled light of the late evening sun on my shoulders, slightly shaded from the coconut trees above us.
The evening whirled past as if it were a dream. Dancing, music, excited, squealing children running along the shore, splashing on the edge of the water, and then dinner under the French Polynesian stars, which were more luminescent than ever. I felt stronger inside, knowing that whatever troubles lay ahead of me, I had a husband by my side. My husband. Daniel. Daniel Glass. I was aware that it wouldn’t be easy, but it would be an interesting journey, never boring, always a little edgy. But there was one clear thing: this man loved me for everything I was, my weakness, my strength, my foolishness, my pridefulness. And he saw something in me that I did not: perfection.
I was perfect for him.
He made love to me that night, worshipping my body, tears of happiness in his eyes as he trailed kisses across my shoulders, my neck, my nose. In fact, I think he covered every inch of me, all the while telling me how happy I made him, how we were in this for life, how I must never feel alone again, that he would catch me if I fell.
Before going to bed I slipped quietly into the bathroom and did a home pregnancy test—I bought one at one of the airport pharmacies en route. I’d had a suspicious feeling something was up, because of my breasts feeling swollen lately. Besides, I realized I was late for my period.
Positive. I was pregnant!
Does it sound corny to say this was the happiest day of my life? Because it truly was, especially when what was to come next shattered us into thousands of little pieces.
Perhaps having Glass as my last name was some kind of omen.
28
Daniel.
I HAD GONE through hell with Natasha, I deduced, to be able to truly appreciate heaven with Janie. There is no Yin without the Yang. Sad, but true. Without the shit you don’t get to really feel happiness the same way.
Our wedding was fucking perfect.
This waif of a girl had conquered my heart. Something deep in my subconscious had known that she was one in a million the day she walked into my rehearsal room that time.
My Janie Juilliard was all mine.
But I never imagined she’d break my soul in two. Never courted the possibility that anything or anyone could come between us. Thought our strength of love was unbreakable. But when you have Glass for a name, I guess a happy ever after was asking too much.
29
Janie.
IT WAS THE blood test that started it all. That simple blood test that I was so looking forward to; the one that would confirm the little pink line of the home pregnancy test.
I whipped into the office of the closest gynecologist to where Daniel and I were staying. Daniel had rented a house in Laurel Canyon. I hadn’t even asked him to come along with me to the doctor. It would be a speedy, whip in, whip out visit. On my first visit, the day before, it was. They just took my blood, but when I went back the next day to get results, it took a lot longer than I anticipated.
The doctor was a wiry young man with spectacles, who looked more like a librarian than a doctor. All I had imagined was a quickie chat, nothing more. Had I thought about it, I would have asked to see a woman.
But forty-five minutes later, after he had noticed, with the ultrasound, that my liver was enlarged, he examined the results of my blood work with an eagle eye.
“Your blood work is very concerning,” he told me, his brow a deep furrow, his glasses slipping to the end of his bony nose. He perused the results, his eyes scanning up and down. “I know this is hard to hear, but better now than later, right? I always like to be up-front with my patients. I’m afraid it looks as if we’re dealing with some type of blood cancer. Your white cell count is abnormally high. Maybe Leukemia.”
I didn’t believe him. Not for a second. I almost laughed in his face. Served me right for not going to Star’s doctor, for