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“Brooke?” Her mom sounded surprised. As well she should. Brooke couldn’t even remember the last time she’d called. It was always her mother who initiated their periodic, ersatz conversations.
“Hey, Mom.”
“What a pleasant surprise. You know, I was just thinking of calling you.”
“You were?”
“Yes, you’ll never guess who I ran into at the Winn-Dixie. Amanda Coursey. Remember Mrs. Coursey, your Girl Scout troop leader? They moved away when you were in—let’s see, it must have been eighth grade. Her husband was transferred to Mobile, but she’s in town visiting her parents.”
“That’s nice, Mom, but—”
“She remembered you, of course. ‘How is Brooke?’ she asked, and I told her you were living in Los Angeles now studying whales, and she was so impressed. She remembered how much you always loved whales and dolphins as a child. You even did a scout project on them, remember?”
“Yeah, Mom, I do. But I’m actually calling about something else.”
Her mother didn’t seem to be listening to her.Quelle surprise. “She told me one of her sons just graduated from UGA and is living in Atlanta now, interning at TruTV. He wants to be a television producer. The older one went to Ole Miss, and he’s living in Birmingham. He’s married with two kids and works for an HVAC company.”
“Mom,” Brooke interjected, losing patience.
“Yes?” Her mother sounded perturbed to have her monologue interrupted.
“Does Dad have cancer?”
“Who told you that?”
“Dylan.”
“Oh, how is he? I didn’t realize you two were still in contact. He was always such a sweet boy. You know, his father got laid off by Exxon.”
This was how their conversations always went, and why Brooke dreaded them so much. Her mother would ramble on endlessly about insignificant subjects, and deflect like hell whenever Brooke attempted to talk to her about anything meaningful.
“Answer the question, Mom. Does Dad have prostate cancer?”
“Well, yes,” her mother conceded. “Just a touch.”
Just a touch. Of cancer. Unbelievable.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was impossible to keep the hurt out of her voice.
Her mother sounded flustered. “Oh, well, your father didn’t want people to know. You know how he is.”
Unfortunately, Brooke knew exactly what her father was like. “Other people or just me? Because Dylan’s mom knows, which means half of Baton Rouge knows by now.”
“Well, we tried to keep it quiet, but you know how these things go. Word spreads.”
Brooke squeezed the phone. “So you didn’t think to call me once everyone else had found out?”
“I did think about it, but I didn’t want to worry you, honey. Dad’s going to be fine. The doctor says everything’s looking positive and his chances of a full recovery are excellent.”
Brooke’s mother had practically made a second career out of supporting the status quo as embodied by Brooke’s father, so it wasn’t surprising that she was working double time now to pretend everything was rosy, even in the face of a cancer diagnosis.
“But he’s having chemo?” Brooke’s research had told her that course of treatment was mostly used when the cancer had spread outside the prostate, which sounded more serious than her mother was letting on.
“Oh, he’s all done with that now. He had a spot of surgery, which went excellently, and then they just did a few chemo treatments to make sure they got all the cancer out of him. It’s really nothing to worry about.”
Brooke couldn’t tell if her mother had actually convinced herself that was true, or if she was maintaining the party line to keep up the appearance that everything was fine. “Okay, but it’s cancer, Mom. That’s a big deal.”
Her mother made a tsking sound. “Sure, but it’s prostate cancer, which isn’t as bad as some of the others. The remission rates are really quite hopeful. You know, they say all men eventually get prostate cancer if they live long enough.”
