Evie’s Choice

Take my hand, I’m a stranger in paradise / All lost in a wonderland, a stranger in paradise. / If I stand starry-eyed / that's a danger in paradise / For mortals who stand beside an angel like you…

The faint strains of Borodin’s ballad wafted through the aluminum-screened windows of the room, suffusing its otherwise dismal air with a mellifluous calm that Wilfredo had long since forgotten. He sat on a chair by Evie’s bed, cradling his son in his arms and gazing listlessly at the inert form of his wife as she slept. Wilfredo knotted his brow when he heard the melody from his neighbor’s radio, painfully reminded of his all too short marital bliss and the prospect of single fatherhood.

The melody was his and Evie’s love song. It was maudlin to some, but Wilfredo didn’t care. It declared his affection for the woman who made his life complete with her vivacious laughter, passion, and free-spiritedness. After living happily for a year, Evie was diagnosed with incurable breast cancer.

“It’s all my fault,” Wilfredo mused bitterly, “I could’ve stopped her.” He knew that Evie had been a candidate for the disease. Her mother died of it five years ago, while he and Evie were starting out their relationship. A few weeks after their marriage, Evie had undergone a breast examination, and the doctor confirmed that her breasts were mottled with small tumors that seemed benign, yet he prescribed Tamoxifen, an anti-cancer drug, for her to assiduously take for the next five to six years.

Evie wanted a child. But the doctor warned that the cancer medication would cause physical defects on her baby, and if she withheld taking the drug, her increased estrogen during pregnancy would possibly stimulate the benign tumors in her breasts to metastasize into cancer cells. It was her choice, he told her -- remain childless for the time being, or risk it out.

Evie was in tears when she told Wilfredo of their predicament. She was in her late thirties, and if she followed her doctor’s advice, it’ll be too late to have a baby and start a family. Wilfredo was apprehensive of the risks, yet Evie was stubborn to change her mind. In any case, he too wanted a child to carry his name.

“God is good…he won’t let Evie die and let the child go motherless,” Wilfredo earnestly prayed.

That was a year ago. Wilfredo hated his naïveté. How could he have believed that God would shield them from this misfortune? He knew that it was their fault -- both of them tempted fate and must now face the consequences.

It was a difficult pregnancy. Evie gave birth to a boy, whom they named Carlos. A few weeks afterward, she complained of searing internal pain, and the check-up confirmed the worst. The doctor ordered chemotherapy and radiation treatments immediately, but it was unendurable for her. Tufts of Evie’s hair fell out, and she promptly vomited any food ingested, transforming her once healthy figure to nothing more than a skeletal frame. Each day, Wilfredo noted that Evie was gradually dying, and he couldn’t stand the affliction on her face.

The doctor’s pronouncements were discouraging.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Castro, there is nothing more that I could do, but alleviate your wife’s pain with proper dosages of morphine.” His stoical voice was a rumble of deafening words. “The cancer had already spread to her vital organs. She’d hold out for a month.”

Wilfredo lost his vitality, and slumped down on a chair.

* * *

Oh, won't you answer this loving prayer / Of a stranger in paradise? / Don't send me in dark despair / for all that I hunger for. / But open your angel eyes / to the stranger in paradise / And tell him that he will be a stranger no more.

Evie managed to smile when she heard the song, waking up from her drug-induced slumber. She moaned feebly, patient with the snaking agony in her body. Her eyes focused on Wilfredo, cradling their baby in his arms. He propped up Carlos for Evie to see.

He would make a wonderful father, she thought.

It was arduous to say goodbye to the man she loved…to the son she wouldn’t see grow up. Wilfredo hung his head in sorrow. He was teary-eyed, filled with ineffable grief at Evie’s labored sighs. Wilfredo tenderly kissed her emaciated hand.

It was time to let her go.