We bang out a turn, and soon the entrance to the airport is ahead. We screech to a stop, with the police officer’s siren still audible but lagging behind.
“Go!” the biker yells at me. “Go, go, go!”
I scramble to get off the bike, and before I can even get my helmet off, he’s gone.
I’m still standing on the departure sidewalk when Esben taps me hard on the shoulder. “We need to move. Allison! Now!”
I turn and run with him into the terminal. There’s no time to think about what just happened, and we only just make our flight to LAX. After we land, we’re picked up by an off-duty Uber driver, then sail to Cedars-Sinai with such ease. Almost too much. Maybe I was secretly hoping for another problem to extend the inevitable, but we are here now. A wave of sadness washes over me.
After hours and hours of chaos, we are here. Our car pulls up at the entrance, and I am unspeakably moved by what I see.
There are at least thirty people outside. Some hold candles, some have signs with #ALLISONANDSTEFFI, or #SCREWCANCER, or #BESTFRIENDS. Some have flowers, stuffed animals, or balloons. They are quiet and sweet and radiating love so entirely that I hardly know what to do as we walk past them. There are hugs and a few soft words. Mostly, there is a circle of serenity. These people are here to guard Steffi against as much pain as they can.
“Will you take a picture for Steffi? She’ll want to see this.” I am almost numb. The love that has been thrown our way today is immeasurable. And no one wants thanks. No one wants attention for his or her part in getting us here. Every single tag that I’ve seen today is fueled by nothing but true heart. I stagger a bit as I walk. “Take a picture,” I say again.
“Of course,” Esben says. “This is beautiful.”
When we step through the front doors, I brace myself, preparing to see Steffi soon.
However, I am not prepared to see the two people who call my name from the waiting area. When they reach us, I am breathing hard, seething with anger, rage from past pain that I almost can’t control.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I spit out. “How dare you? How dare you?”
“Allison,” the woman says, with tears in her eyes. She was clearly going to lean in for a hug, but my words stopped her short. “We read about Steffi online. We just happened to be in San Diego. Obviously, we drove up when we heard.”
“We were hoping to—” the man starts.
“Hoping to what? What exactly were you hoping to do, huh?” I’m near screaming.
“What’s going on? Who are they?” Esben touches my arm with concern.
“Cal and Joan Kantor,” I say, shooting a venomous look their way.
“Steffi’s foster parents?” he says in disbelief.
“Yes. The ones who kicked her out when she turned eighteen.” My words are cold.
“Wait, what?” Cal says. “Is that what she told you?”
Joan touches a hand to her forehead. She looks as distraught as I feel. “Oh, Cal . . .”
Her husband takes her hand and collects himself before he speaks. “Allison, that’s not what happened. Not at all . . .”
“What do you mean?” My stomach sinks as something clicks.
“We didn’t kick Steffi out,” he says, struggling not to cry. “We never would have done that.”
“She told me . . .” I cannot believe this. And yet I can. “She told me that you didn’t want her. Not for the long term. That it wasn’t working out.”
“Dear God.” Joan shakes her head.
“She was scared,” I say in a whisper as a new understanding of the past washes over me. “She was too scared to trust you. That was it, wasn’t it? Oh, Steff . . .”
“We should have known,” Joan says, heartbreak in her voice. “Damn, we should have known. But she was so adamant, so headstrong and sure. Very polite about not wanting to be adopted, but very clear. While we wanted to respect her choice, we tried to convince her. We did everything we could, but—”
I jump in. “But you cannot convince Steffi of anything she doesn’t want. And she never wants to feel dependent on anyone else. She can’t.” I know this all too well. I should have known this would extend to Cal and Joan.
Cal nods. “Yes. Allison, we loved her then, and we love her now. We think of her as our daughter.” His face crumples. “She will always, always be our daughter.”
I step forward. “I see that. I believe you.”
Crushed. I am crushed, because now there is yet another layer of tragedy to Steffi’s illness.
CHAPTER 29
TO THE GOODNIGHT MOON AND BACK
The nurses, Rebecca and Jamie, are sweet. Very sweet. They’ve clearly done this before. So, they do what they can to prepare me before I walk into the room. I hear something about how thin Steffi is, about her coloring being off. About machines and beeps and monitors. About it only being a question of hours. When I press them, Rebecca answers. She’s seen enough patients to know, and her guess is soon. Four to ten hours.
Esben waits in the hall, seated on a hard chair. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
I know he will, and it’s the only comfort I have.
Cal and Joan are with him. I’m not sure how to tell Steffi that they are here, but I suppose I’ll figure it out.
Jamie pushes open the door and walks me in. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” she says softly.
“Allison!” Steffi’s volume and joy shock and terrify me.
She is sitting up in bed, surrounded by wrappers. The room smells strongly of burgers and fries.
It’s all I can do to guard her from my reaction, because the girl before me looks so drastically different from the one who appeared outside my dorm last fall. She is very, very thin, her skin tone near ashen. Her formerly full blond hair is flattened against her head, stringy and limp. I see bags under her eyes where there were never any.
Everything about her looks totally wrong, and yet it’s equally easy to see my best friend. She will always be Steffi, no matter the circumstances.
“Get over here!” She beckons. “God, I can’t believe you made it. You’ve had a crazy day, huh?”
It’s the middle of the night, yet she’s wide-awake and wired.
“A little bit.” I try to sound like a normal human being. “But anything for you.”
“I knew you could do it!”
I cross the small private room and lean over to hug her. Seeing how weak Steffi looks is hard to swallow, and I’m hesitant to hold her too tightly. However, she grabs me with more strength than I’d anticipated, and so I respond. It feels so wonderful to hold her after all these months, especially when I didn’t think I would ever again.
She pats my back repeatedly until I sit in the chair by the bed. “Now, tell me everything. Tell me about you. And you and Esben.”
She makes it hard not to smile, because her enthusiasm is so elevated, and it is so very Steffi to want to talk about me when she’s the one in crisis. “What do you want to know?”
Steffi raises an eyebrow in the way that only she can, with a crazy high arch and leering eyes. “Has it happened?”