“I’m calling to let you know everything is going well,” the nurse says. “Dr. Newberry and his team are halfway through. She’s still got a while to go, but she’s stable, and they’re happy with how things are progressing.”
Did I hear that right? “What?”
“Everything’s good so far,” the nurse says gently.
Mom’s okay. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Thank you,” I squeak out.
“We’ll call you again when she’s in recovery. Alright?”
Words are too much work, so I make an affirmative hum in the back of my throat and the nurse says goodbye. I hang up and drift back to my seat.
“Everything alright?” Aunt Joan asks. I can hear the tension in her voice, the apprehension so familiar to my own.
“Yeah?” My response sounds like a question, and I work to make it more convincing, both for myself and for Aunt Joan. “Yeah. They were just calling to let us know it’s going well.”
I feel hazy, like I’m in a dream rather than reality.
Aunt Joan lets out a relieved huff of air. “Oh, thank God! That just about scared my ass right off.”
A few people give Aunt Joan annoyed looks for her colorful language and her volume, but she’s unaffected and returns to her book with a deep sigh of relief. The surgery isn’t finished yet, but the same relief trickles through me.
I contemplate trying to work on my thesis, but I know I don’t have the attention span for it right now, so I pick up Aunt Joan’s romance novel again.
It’s a little easier to sink into the story now that I know Mom is doing alright. With each page, I shed a little more of my anxiety and focus only on the stresses of the characters—so different from my own. I’m not here in this hospital waiting room anymore. I’m in a ballroom in Regency England, flirting with a mysterious bachelor. No one’s life is in danger, and the only real tension is sexual. By the last page, everything will be wrapped up and happily resolved. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so drawn to romance novels lately. No matter what, there’s always a happy ending.
I wish life came with that kind of certainty. The guarantee that everything will work out. The couple will end up together. The conflicts will end the way you want. And everyone will grow and change, becoming slightly better versions of themselves.
Life isn’t like that, though.
People might change, but not always for the better. There’s no guarantee that everything will workout. In fact, most things don’t. The person who promised to love and cherish you ends up having an affair and leaving. You’re forced to stop the cancer trial that was supposed to make everything better, with no guarantees that the next step will work. The bills come due without a mysterious benefactor paying them off. The hot, unattainable guy doesn’t fall for the awkward girl. He remains unattainable. There are no guarantees of a found family. No happily-ever-afters. There’s just a handful of happy moments sprinkled in with the shit.
That’s what life is—a shitshow with sprinkles.
Chapter Twenty
“The surgery was a success.” Dr. Newberry says before even sitting down. “We got clear margins on every tumor, and your mom is stable and recovering well.”
My mind is telling me this is good news, but my body hasn’t caught up yet. I still feel ready to cry. I still feel like the worst could happen at any moment.
Cosmos is behind Dr. Newberry, beaming in a way that makes him look young and irresistible. They both pull up chairs in front of us, keeping a respectful distance. Cosmos, a little farther away than Dr. Newberry.
“So, that’s it. She’s all good now, thank God,” Aunt Joan says.
I blink at her, not really understanding.
“Completing a successful surgery and being all good are two different things when dealing with stage four cancer. As I said, we’ve removed the tumors andachieved clear margins. She’ll be here for a few more days for monitoring. Then she’ll continue her recovery at home.” He shifts his attention to me. “The recovery will be long. Her body has been significantly weakened by the drug and the surgery. She’ll be tired. She’ll have some pain. You’ll need to watch her closely for any complications. Dr. Kim will stop by later today or tomorrow to talk next steps. Hopefully, once she’s released, we’ll never see her back here again.”
I want to look at Cosmos, but I keep my gaze firmly on Dr. Newberry and nod along.
“Can we see her?” Aunt Joan asks. I’m glad she’s here to do the talking, because my brain is too slow and running on backup battery.
“Soon.” Dr. Newberry smiles. “A nurse will come back in a little while and tell you once she’s awake.” He leans back in his seat. “Do you have any more questions for us?”
If I had questions at one point, they’re gone now. My mind is completely blank, an empty screen with a blinking cursor.
Aunt Joan tilts her head and looks past Dr. Newberry to Cosmos. “Are you the resident who reads romance novels?”
