“Try these.” He dropped them on her desk, and sat down with the work they were sharing. And as they made their way through it, he watched her carefully. She looked awful, but she seemed to feel a little better while she was working. It distracted her from her miseries. And Liz kept her well supplied with tea, and she nibbled at the crackers Brock had brought her.
“Why don't you lie down for a while during lunch?” he suggested, but she shook her head, she didn't want to break their momentum. They were doing some very detailed work on one of her new cases. And they ordered chicken sandwiches instead, which Alex actually felt well enough to eat by lunchtime.
It was fully an hour later when the food caught up with her, and suddenly she looked panicked, as she felt it rising. She had a tiny bathroom adjacent to her office, and without a word to Brock, she disappeared, and vomited horribly and then retched for half an hour while he couldn't help but hear it. It was agonizing listening to her, and after a while he went out, and came back with a cold damp cloth, an ice pack, and a pillow. Without knocking or saying anything, he opened the door, which she hadn't locked fortunately, and she suddenly felt his strong arms behind her, as she knelt huddled over the bowl, and slumped against the wall. For a moment, he was afraid she had fainted but she hadn't.
“Lean against me, Alex,” he said quietly, “just let yourself go.” She didn't argue, she didn't say a word, she was just too sick and too grateful for the help, from any quarter. She slumped back into his arms, as he sat on the floor holding her, the bathroom was barely big enough for both of them with their long legs, but they just made it. He put the ice pack on the back of her neck, and the wet cloth on her forehead. And for an instant, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, but she didn't speak. She couldn't.
He flushed the toilet for her, and put the lid down, and after a little while, he laid her down on the pillow, and covered her with a blanket. She was grateful for all of it, and he sat with her the entire time, watching her, holding her hand, and saying nothing.
It was almost an hour later when she finally spoke to him, in a soft voice. She was completely drained, and even talking was an effort. “I think I can get up now.”
“Why don't you lie here for a while?” he said softly, and then he had a better idea. “I'm going to move you, Alex. Don't do anything. Just let yourself go.” She had stopped vomiting long enough to be moved to the other room, and with no effort at all, he scooped her up, surprised at how light she was for her size, and laid her down on the gray leather couch in her office. It felt wonderful to her, and he put the pillow under her head and the blanket over her. She was mildly ashamed of herself for giving up so completely, but she didn't really care. She was just grateful that he was there to help her.
“Lock the door,” she whispered to him as he stood next to her, like a mother watching her baby.
“Why?”
“I don't want anyone to walk in and see me.” She had assured everyone that she was going to be able to work during chemotherapy, and this was hardly an auspicious beginning.
He did what she asked, and then came to sit in a chair next to her. He didn't want to leave her alone, but she did look a little better.
“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked cautiously, but she shook her head in answer to the question.
“I'm staying.”
“Do you want to sleep for a while?”
“I'll just lie here. “¥bu work I'll get up in a few minutes.”
“Are you serious?” He was amazed at her. He had never admired her more than at this moment. She refused to give up or to be beaten. She was a real trouper.
“Tes,” she answered him. “You work …and Brock? …” She was whispering and so was he. “Thank you.”
“Never mind. That's what friends are for.” It only saddened her to know that Sam couldn't do this.