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“I’m not trying to save myself any pain.” I meet her stare and hold it. “I’m trying to save everyone else.”
She bites her lip, and her eyes well up with tears that waterfall off of her lashes, her face contorts between anger and sadness. “Well, I’m worried about you! Not everyone else! Screw everyone else! What did you think would happen? That you would just distance yourself, die, and then we would just be fine? Huh?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t know! Yes! I had to try anything else other than staying close with everyone. I’ve seen what this does to the families of patients. I don’t want to be the cause of everyone else’s demise.”
She cups my face in her hands and sobs, “Charlotte, you are far too important for us to forget you and just move on. It’s impossible. You are a part of me and always will be. You are my frickin’ sister! That is never going to change, no matter what happens. I’m sure everyone else feels the exact same way. We love you. That’s why I came pounding on your door! Because I couldn’t stand having anything come between us, especially something as silly as work.”
Inhaling sporadically, I blink the downpour of tears away and gasp again, unable to control my breathing. “I’m”—gasp—“sorry.”
She leans her forehead against mine. “Don’t apologize for a choice you made when you were trying to survive. Not when you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
I stay silent because I do feel sorry, and I doubt that is going to change anytime soon.
“Please don’t tell anyone, Laura. Please,” I beg, pulling away.
She looks torn and hesitates before saying, “Of course I won’t tell anyone without your permission, Char, but I really don’t think that keeping this in the dark is the right answer. Can we discuss it sometime? If you’re up for it?”
No. I should say no because I mean no. I can already see the ways this is affecting her, and it will continue to do so.
Cancer doesn’t just infect the patient; it seeps into the loved ones and does far more damage than what shows up on the scans. It is a killer, a cold-blooded murderer, shooting cancerous bullets, and I will take every one so that they don’t have to. That isn’t changing because one person knows.
Before I have a chance to answer, she cuts back in. “Don’t answer. I’m in no place to put pressure on a decision that only you should make. I love you. I’m here for you in any way that I possibly can be.”
Maybe Laura barging into my house is a blessing in disguise; maybe I don’t have to keep this act up at work. That would take such a gigantic amount of pressure off of me.
“Do we have medical leave?” I ask quietly, my gaze falling back to the floor.
I hate the way discussing my illness makes me feel helpless and sad.
“Oh my gosh, yes, of course. I’ll get the paperwork put together, and if you’re feeling up for it, you can pop in, and we’ll knock it out in, like, ten minutes,” she says.
I can tell she loves that she has something she can help me with. It warms my heart and slows the tears down, knowing that I can make her feel helpful by doing that.
“When?”
“Tomorrow? We can do it as soon as you want. I can’t believe…” Her voice cracks, and I look at her. “I can’t believe you’ve been doing this all by yourself, Char.”
Shrugging, I brush it off. “I didn’t really feel like I had a choice. I couldn’t let my cancer do to all of you what my mom’s illness did to my dad. He’s still broken after all these years.”
“Do you think he would have changed a single thing if given a chance to go back and do it over?” she asks, and I realize that I absolutely hate my best friend for putting things into perspective like that.
Because I know for a fact that my dad would rather be heartbroken a thousand times over than to not be with my mom when she was alive. But that also kind of proves my point. I think Reed would make the same choice for me, and I didn’t want to give him that option.
I still don’t.
15
Reed
“Why are you FaceTiming me right now? It is five thirty in the damn morning,” JD groans and blinks rapidly, focusing his sleepy eyes.
My heart is beating so fast that I’m scared Hatty will hear it and run away.
Whispering with the softest tone I can manage, I say, “Look.”
Moving my phone over slightly, I show Jensen what I woke up to this morning. Cute little Hatty is curled up on the pillow next to mine, sound asleep.
“Reed?” Jensen grunts. “I’m going to kill you.”
