Chapter 58: There You Go

The late evening sun hung lazily overhead, casting a warm glow on the ranch as a gentle breeze swept through its vines and trees.

Seated on their rocking chairs on the porch, Clark read the last pages of [The Spire of Fate] with an intrigued light in his eyes while Claire whom had completed and raved about the book an hour before, quietly knitted away as their son whom was seated out front, strummed a few chords.

Then, after a minute or so, he actually sang the entire song... only to come to an abrupt pause when he reached a certain point.

Staring blankly for a while, he soon let out a resigned sigh as he raised his gaze up to the skies.

"Still stuck?" his parents simultaneously asked after noticing him pause at that particular point for perhaps the twentieth time today.

"Yeah," he exasperatedly let out.

"The verses came easy. The chorus too..." he raised an arm in a vague gesture as it flopped to his side afterwards.

"The bridge though... the bridge has been a real conundrum to get down," he explained and then continued;

"Largely, and admittedly because I want it to say something quite deep and insightful to anyone who listens to it, but still..."

"Every time I come up with something, it just ends up feeling..."

"Cheesy?" his mum offered.

"Weak...?" his old man remarked.

"... pretentious." Niall let out a small huff, his breath blowing strands of his hair aside.

"I hate pretentious." he disdainfully muttered afterwards.

"That you do..." his father remarked knowingly and then said;

"I might not be a music guru, or lyricist and what not, but uh..."

"If you ask me, I think you might’ve deviated from your initial goal with the song," Clark thoughtfully remarked.

Cocking his brow, his tone genuinely curious, Niall asked;

"I have?"

"Yeah," Clark flipped the manuscript shut and rested it on his lap.

"According to you, the song’s more about your journey than it is anyone else’s so...why overthink it?" Clark gestured with palm.

"I mean, part of why most of the song comes so easily to you is probably because it’s that. Because it’s your story," the man continued, his words sagely as he gestured;

"You’ve already talked about leaving in the first verse of the song. You’ve already talked about changing in the second verse. You’ve already paid your respects to your roots in the chorus..."

"But the bridge is where you’re faltering, because it’s the one part of the song you’re probably trying to say something to the world and not to yourself." the man expatiated and then continued;

"So, instead of thinking of something deep, insightful, and non-pretentious as you’ve so accurately put it, to say to the world in your bridge..."

"Why not maintain the theme of the song and say it to yourself instead? It would probably come far easier then, right?" he gestured to his son with an elderly smile.

Hearing that, Niall didn’t respond immediately.

Rather, his eyes burned with enlightenment, his thoughts swirling faster and faster as his father’s words pushed his mind into overdrive till he subconsciously pulled on his Gift of True Aptitude.

Idly and subconsciously, he began plucking at his strings as he audibly muttered;

"The person I used to be..."

"The journey I took to get to where I am now,"

"What I’d like to say to a younger version of myself unaware of the future..."

Through it all, Clark and Claire had watched their son with a mix of astonished wonder, to which his mother then asked a moment later;

"What would you have liked to tell him?"

For a while, Niall didn’t respond. And then, as the evening breeze rustled through the nearby trees, he quietly spoke;

"Nothing."

His parents looked towards him, a genuine surprise on their features.

"I don’t think I’d tell him anything," he continued with a flicker of understanding mixed with realization;

"If I warned him, he probably might’ve never left to chase his dreams,"

"And if he never left, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here as I am now." he continued to speak in an enlightened daze.

"Because all those struggles--all of it. It made him who he is, and who I am today." he concluded to which, Clark and Claire’s expression softened in response.

Then, without so much as a hesitation, Niall strummed the tune properly and sang the bridge;

You make a man out of his struggles, but the struggle makes the man,

You make a man out of his struggles, but the struggle makes the man,

You make a man out of his struggles, but the struggle makes the man,

You make a man out of his--!

Abruptly cutting it off there, a grin on his features, Niall kept strumming as he sang the outro of [Hello, Goodbye] with a beaming smile;

And when I’m back in Tennessee, I feel it...

Another version of me, he would be proud...

Oh... I pay my respects to where it all began...

Hello...

Goodbye...

"There you go." Clark grinned with pride, as did Claire whose smile was much the same.

Laughing with a similar look of pride on his features, Niall then turned to face his parents, a genuine look of appreciation and gratefulness in his eyes.

As that happened, the sound of familiar truck echoed in the distance.

Turning their heads over, Niall and his parents watched as Camille soon arrived at their ranch, her truck coming to a halt before the red barn.

"Camille! To what do we owe this visit!" Claire was the first to greet her.

Yet, instead of the usual peppy air she typically exuded and would’ve responded with in a heartbeat, her eyes found Niall’s instead.

Given Niall had advised her to at least inform a select few asides him of her condition a few days back, the lady had told him she’d think about it. Now, it seemed she had finally taken his advice.

Watching her walk out of the vehicle and over to them, her smile a bit more subdued, Niall gave her an assured look.

Then, with a deep breath, he turned to face his parents;

"Ma. Pa. Camille would like to tell you something very important."

*

Nearly a month and a half later, Camille found herself seated across from her oncologist once again.

The familiar consultation room felt unusually quiet today, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional click of a mouse as the doctor reviewed her latest CT scan.

Camille sat patiently, her fingers loosely folded on her lap and a knot in her gut.

The doctor, however, wore an expression she hadn’t seen before.

One that wasn’t relief, but was undeniably... intrigued.

"Well," the oncologist finally murmured, leaning back in his chair with a curious light in his eyes.

"This is certainly not what I was expecting,"

Camille’s brow furrowed upon hearing that. Then, she tentatively asked;

"Is... is something wrong?"

"No," the doctor shook his head before turning the monitor toward her, highlighting the scans taken before treatment and those from just days ago.

"Actually, it’s... quite the opposite," he pointed toward the mass nestled within her pancreas.

"When we first diagnosed you, the tumor’s position and its involvement with the surrounding vessels led us to classify it as unresectable," he explained.

"Our expectation was to use neoadjuvant chemotherapy primarily to slow progression and, if we were fortunate, achieve some degree of tumor shrinkage..." his cursor traced the outline of the newer scan.

"But... I have to say, your response has been... very remarkable." he remarked.

In response to that, Camille simply stared at the images despite not fully understanding them.

"The tumor has regressed considerably. And more importantly, the vascular involvement appears substantially reduced." the doctor added.

For a brief while, silence settled over the room.

Then,

"What does that mean?" she asked quietly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Clasping his palms together, the doctor chose his words carefully as he offered her a reassuring smile;

"It means we need to reassess."

"I’d like to present your case to our multidisciplinary team and have our hepatopancreatobiliary surgeons evaluate you again." he continued.

"Based on these scans, there’s now a genuine possibility that your tumor may have become resectable..." he gestured with an open palm.

Unsure of what to make of it, but cautiously hopeful, Camille then asked;

"Is that... is it in my favor?"

"It is," the doctor simply said with a nod, his professionalism giving way to a cautious optimism.

"If the surgeons agree, we may be shifting from a treatment plan centered solely on neoadjuvant therapy to one that includes surgical resection, followed by adjuvant chemotherapy to reduce the risk of recurrence." he paused to let the words sink in.

"In other words," he then said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"We’re no longer talking only about controlling the disease, Miss. Jones. We’re talking about giving you a realistic chance at removing it."

For several seconds, Camille simply stared at him. Then her eyes widened as she asked;

"You’re serious?"

"I don’t make promises in oncology. Pancreatic cancer has a way of humbling even our greatest expectations." the doctor answered honestly.

"But if you’d shown me these images a month ago and told me they belonged to the same patient, I would’ve questioned whether there’d been a mix-up." he glanced once more at the scan before looking back at her with a warm smile.

"Fortunately for both of us... there wasn’t." he let out a quiet laugh.

Hearing that, Camille felt her vision blur, a genuine sense of hope flooding her entire being.

Soon, multiple beads of tears began rolling down her cheeks.

To that effect, the doctor reached across the desk and slid a box of tissues toward her.

"Thank you." she said while picking a tissue with trembling fingers.

"Don’t thank me just yet. Save that for after the surgeons tell me I’m allowed to take credit." his smile remained gentle as he continued watching the lady sob.

And when she finally stepped out of the consultation room, her eyes immediately found Niall and his parents who had been waiting quietly outside.

The moment their gazes met, she lunged into his arms.

Niall barely had time to steady himself before she buried her face against his chest, her composure shattering as heartfelt sobs poured out of her, each one growing louder with every passing second.

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/Caer07