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Then I searched the timeline of those diagnosed with it.
I searched their survival rate.
My own heart cracked into a million pieces.
Most don’t live past five years.
She had been diagnosed two years ago.
Who knew how much time she had left?
How was this happening? Why hadn’t she told me? Hell, why hadn’t I realized it?! I fucking knew. Some part of me was aware, but I ignored all the signs because I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want the hurting of my past to come back to my present. Yet, there I was doing exactly what I had done as a child. I was searching for answers. Searching for some light. Searching for a cure to the uncurable.
I sat in my dark hotel room, falling apart as the laptop light shone against my face, realizing the woman I loved was going to die.
And nothing I could do would stop it.
36
Connor
Ten years old
Mom was trying not to cry when she told me about the cancer.
I didn’t even know what that was, but I knew it was bad if she was trying not to tell me. I knew she’d been sick, but I didn’t know how bad. I thought she just had a bad cold or something with how she was always coughing stuff up.
“Do you understand, Connor? Do you understand what I’m telling you?” she said as a few tears fell down her cheeks. She brushed them away fast, trying to pretend they never happened, but I’d already seen them.
“Are you dying?” I asked, feeling like my insides were twisted up in knots. My tummy had hurt ever since Mom said that word to me. Cancer. It was hurting her. It was making her want to cry, but she was acting like she didn’t because she didn’t want me to cry. Even though I wanted to cry.
I want to cry.
But I couldn’t because Mom had already had to cry enough when Dad left us, and whenever I cried, she cried. I didn’t want her to cry, so I didn’t cry. I had to be strong for her.
“No, sweetheart,” she said, placing her hands against my cheeks. “No, I’m not dying. We are going to fight this, okay? We are going to fight this and win.”
I sniffled a bit and nodded, wanting to be strong, but I was just a kid, and sometimes kids hurt. I gave her a hug and held her tight. Then I pulled back. “Can I go to bed?”
“Are you tired already? It’s kind of early.”
“Yeah. I just want to go to sleep.”
She frowned but nodded.
I went to my bedroom and closed my door. I lay in my bed, put my pillow over my face so Mom couldn’t hear me, and then I started crying. My whole body shook as I kept thinking about Mom being sick. She couldn’t be sick. I needed her. She was my bestest friend. I couldn’t handle something being wrong with her, and I hated that I couldn’t fix it. I should’ve been able to help her, fix her, be the man of the house.
I couldn’t stop crying like a stupid kid, and I knew I had to do better because Mom needed me to be strong, but I was scared, and I didn’t know what I’d ever do if she wasn’t okay. I needed her to be okay. I needed her to be okay. I needed—
“Connor Ethan,” Mom said, walking into my room. I kept my pillow over my face, because I knew if she saw me, she’d know I was sad, and I didn’t want her to know. I had to be strong for her. For us. I had to because Dad was gone now, and there was no one else to be strong.
“Sweetheart, look at me,” Mom said, walking over to my bed and sitting beside me. She tugged at the pillow, and I tugged back.
“No!”
“Connor, please. It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not! It’s not okay! It can’t be okay if you’re not okay!” I cried, my tears still falling, soaking my pillowcase. I sounded like a big baby, but I didn’t know how to sound like anything else. Mom was sick. She wasn’t okay, and that made me really scared.
She managed to remove my pillow, and she set it on the other side of the bed. I pushed myself up to sit, pulled my knees into my chest, and wrapped my arms around my legs.
“Look at me, Con.”
I couldn’t. I couldn’t look at her because it would just remind me that she wasn’t okay.
But she made me. She placed her hands on my cheeks and forced me to look her in the eyes. She then took my hands and placed them against her face.
“I’m okay. You see? You feel my face? You feel my skin? I’m still here, and I’m okay. Do you understand? I am okay. You are okay. We are going to be okay. Do you understand?”
