Side Effects May Vary by Julie Murphy Page A

seeing him. That man. In our house. Now that I wasn’t waiting for the end, I would have to live with this.
    Nearly a month after Christmas and our house was still decorated. The dust had settled on the ornaments and garland. The out-of-season décor was a longstanding tradition in my house. My parents always waited to take down everything until after my birthday, saying it added to the festivities. I thought they were just lazy, but still, a birthday without Christmas lights would feel flat-out offensive.
    Since being told I was in remission, I’d been poked and prodded more than I had when the cancer in my blood was actually detectable. Between doctors’ appointments and feigning tiredness, I’d been able to just miss Harvey. I avoided him for nearly a month, although he called every day. I wanted to see him, but I didn’t want to talk to him, like any words might break us. I saw him on Christmas. It was weird this year. There had been so many presents, more than any other year, and I wondered if my parents had gone overboard before or after Dr. Meredith’s news.
    Harvey’s face lifted the second he saw me. “I missed you,” he said and hugged me tight. Over his shoulder, I could see tears streaming down Natalie’s ivory face. Harvey held his arms so closely around me that I felt the weight of his forearms overlapping across my back. It made me feel paper thin, breakable.
    When he finally let go, it was Natalie’s turn. I hadn’t seen her for over a month, and I had assumed I might never see her again. She curled her long, lean arms around my shoulders and placed her chin atop my head. She was a gazelle of a woman, standing at least a few inches taller than my five foot nine inches. “Welcome back,” she whispered into my hair.
    Everyone in my life was ready for this except me.
    â€œHappy birthday to you . . . ,” my dad began to sing, as he approached us from behind. His voice was a little unsure at first, but rose in volume when everyone else joined.
    I turned to him. He held out a huge strawberry-ice-cream cake, my childhood birthday party staple. Natalie squeezed my shoulder, telling me to make my wish. Heat warmed my face, and the countless candles made everything and everyone look fuzzy. I closed my eyes and pretended to make a wish, but I didn’t, not really. I had nothing left to wish for, and even if I did, I wouldn’t wish for it; I would do it.
    My eyes must have been closed for too long because my mother cleared her throat. My eyes sprang open. They all stared at me, waiting. It took me three puffs to blow out all the candles but one. Without missing a beat, Harvey swiped his tongue over his thumb and pointer finger, using them to snuff out the last stubborn flame.
    Next, we opened presents. My parents gave me cash, which was what I asked for every year. From Natalie and Harvey, I received a generic Happy Birthday card and a rectangular box wrapped in champagne-colored wrapping paper. I knew what it was before I opened it, but I still went through the motions. Tucked into a small brown box and shrouded in white tissue paper was a pair of brand-new pointe shoes.
    The minute I opened the box, Natalie tried to explain herself. “I know.” She stopped, collecting her thoughts. “I know that you don’t dance anymore, but I read somewhere that your body would recuperate more quickly if you exercised.”
    Natalie was never verbally confrontational. In fact, she might even come across as shy at times, but she let her feelings show in her actions. So while this seemed like a nice gesture, it was also Natalie’s way of saying, It’s time to get back to the studio. I picked up the shoes, the silk smooth against my fingers and the leather soles blemish-free. My throat went dry and my fingertips numb. Anxiety sank deep into my abdomen like a set of hooks. One more expectation I didn’t know how to live up to. At