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Truth is, with everything going on I simply forgot what day it is. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” I stop and sigh. “It’s been a long day. I’m really sorry.” I keep repeating myself.
I’m not sure what he hears in my voice, but to me, I sound the same as always. Maybe a little tired, but Oliver sounds alarmed, “What’s wrong, Remy?”
“Nothing, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess. Can we get a rain check? Maybe next week some time? Or we can wait until our regular time next month.”
“That’s what you told me last month when we were supposed to meet and you cancelled and asked for a rain check,” he says making me realize my mistake. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me nothing, I know you better than anyone.”
I want to deny it, tell him maybe he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks. I want to laugh and tell him he’s crazy and that a girl’s allowed to be tired and forgetful. Instead, I hesitate, and that’s once again, a mistake. “Oliver-“ I manage, but my voice breaks on his name.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he tells me and before I can muster a response, he’s disconnected the call.
What have I done? I’m not ready for this conversation. I told my cat. That’s all I’m emotionally prepared to do today. He’s right though, still to this day he knows me better than anyone. He’ll be able to know I’m lying in an instant.
Looking around my home as if it contains all the answers I need, Meatball catches my eye. He’s lying on top of my bookcase staring at me accusingly. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I tell him. His reply is to twitch his tail around spastically and look away as if he can’t bear to deal with me.
By the time Oliver’s knocking on the door, I’m no closer to deciding how I want to handle this.
“Remy it’s me,” he says impatiently through the wooden door. Unlocking it, I let him inside. He takes one look at me and envelops me in his arms. “What’s going on? And don’t even think about blowing me off.”
“Oliver, this is silly,” I say immediately ignoring what he just said and watching as Meatball who jumped down from his perch immediately upon seeing Oliver, rubs himself all over his legs in hello. “I forgot what day it is. You didn’t need to come over. You should have just gone home or used the opportunity to take Justine out. We can reschedule.”
He drops his arms and backs away from me making Meatball scurry away offended and folds his arms across his chest. He stares at me. His eyes squint and I can see him trying to evaluate what he sees on my face.
“What?” I ask self-consciously wiping at my mouth where his eyes had lingered for more than a few beats.
“You’re going to tell me what’s going on. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes and they look sad and strained. You’re biting your lower lip and squinting your eyes, which tells me you have a stress headache. You’re wearing your favorite sweatshirt – the one you’ve had for years and you only wear when you need comforting. Your hair is in a ponytail so that means you didn’t work today because you never wear it up at work. Speaking of work, you never take a day off or use any of your vacation days for that matter, so, I repeat, you’re going to tell me what’s going on. Something’s up and I’m not leaving until you tell me what it is.”
Why do I always doubt his care for me? The importance I have in his life? Just because we haven’t ever gotten together romantically doesn’t mean that I’m not just as important to him as he is to me. I need to stop doing that. If it were the other way around, I’d want to know what’s going on with him too.
He walks away from me to sit on my couch, but his posture is anything but relaxed. His mouth is tense, his arms crossed, and he takes up the space like he owns it. He’s looking at me expectantly like I have no choice to do what he says and for a moment I feel indignation at the suggestion, but it’s fleeting. Suddenly, the small bit of fight I have inside me dies. He watches the various emotions pass over my face and it makes his jaw tighten even more with worry.
Sitting next to him on the couch, I turn my body to face him while struggling to figure out how to begin. Looking anywhere but at him, I open my mouth a couple times only to close it again. His hand is suddenly in mine squeezing it gently. My eyes meet his and in them I find worry, but there’s something else. Something that relaxes me a bit and makes me feel comfort; makes me feel safe. Finally, I say what I’m thinking, “I don’t even know how to begin,” my words a whisper.
“It’s just me. We’re Remy and Oliver, Oliver and Remy. There’s nothing we can’t share. Just tell me.”
But I can’t. I can’t just… spit it out. Part of me wants to get right to the point, but for some reason saying the c-word is impossible. I told Meatball, isn’t that enough? I laugh out loud at the thought and Oliver’s eyes widen a little. I know how I must sound to his ears. “This all just feels… surreal, I’m sorry.”
He waits patiently and I decide to start at the beginning. “I guess it was a month ago that I went to the doctor for the first time.” I can’t look into his eyes, so I turn to look out the window instead. It’s dark outside, but I have a perfect view of the street. There aren’t any cars driving by or people walking around. No children’s laughter floating on the air and even the bugs are quiet tonight. The inaction is such a contrast to the emotions roiling within me.
“I hadn’t been feeling well. Tired mostly. I had no energy and achy muscles and joints for no apparent reason. I can’t explain it really other than to say it felt like I had the flu – for days.” His hand finds mine and tightens making my gaze move from the window back to him. “They started with a flu test, that turned into a blood test - then another blood test. They wanted to check my levels, but when they got the results they weren’t telling, so then they sent me to a hematologist who also took my blood and did his own test. He told me I may be anemic or had a vitamin deficiency and gave me some worst-case scenarios that I guess I didn’t really digest. I didn’t want to.”
“You said they thought you may have anemia or a vitamin deficiency. So, does that mean that’s not what it is?”
I shook my head, “I had a CT scan and based on the results had a…mammogram.” My mouth tightens and Oliver’s eyes widen, he knows exactly where I’m going with this now and I can already see the fear affecting his body. It’s shining in his eyes and tightening his muscles. His hand is gripping mine even harder. Doing my best to push past the feelings all of that evokes, I swallow hard. “They found a mass. So I had a biopsy so they could see if it was malignant or benign. You know the drill.”
“Remy?” Oliver has said my name a thousand times before, but the way he says it now tells me all I need to know. He’s scared. He’s pleading. He’s asking me a silent question that I wish more than anything in this world I had a different answer for him than the one I possess.
“It’s cancer,” I say looking him straight in the eyes so there’s no room for doubt. No denial here. “I have breast cancer.”
