Page 45 of Unraveled

“I know.” That’s why I didn’t simply hang up. Because I knew she loved me and sincerely worried. “I have a fantastic nurse, and I told you I’ll stay in touch via text. But I can’t do these phone calls. Not right now.”

“You’ve never enjoyed talking on the phone with me.”

She wasn’t wrong, but I refused to hash out now the way her criticisms could make me feel. “I need to go.”

“Fine. I’ll see you Saturday night. I thought maybe I’d cook something.”

My mom was a terrible cook. In addition, she’d undoubtedly lament my lack of gourmet pots, pans, and whatever else she would find lacking. “I’d prefer to get takeout from my favorite steak place instead.” We’d already talked about this, but she had the uncanny ability to selectively listen, only hearing what she wanted to. “Russell is placing the order. I’ll have him send you and Dad the menu.”

“Will Kellan be there?”

“Yes, he’s planning to come.”

Silence. With her, this was telling. “What are you trying not to say?”

“Do you think starting a relationship with someone right now is the best idea? You have a lot on your plate without having to worry about how he views you now post-surgery.”

Of course she would question how he would view my appearance, particularly now when I couldn’t even pretend to be perfect. If I’d wondered if my self-esteem could get any lower, all I’d needed to do was pick up the phone and talk to my mother—because it could. “I’ve gotta go. See you Saturday.”

After hanging up the phone, I put my forehead against the cool stainless steel of the refrigerator. I wished we had a better relationship but didn’t know what to do about it. I’d given up trying to please her. For many years I’d tried that, only to fall short. It was one thing for me to question the timing of my starting a relationship. But it was quite a different thing when she implied I wouldn’t deserve a guy like Kellan after losing my breasts.

As if he somehow sensed I was questioning myself, Kellan texted me.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning. Thanks again for dinner last night.”

His reply came immediately. Glancing at the clock, I realized he was already at his jobsite.

“You’re welcome. What do you want for dinner on Friday? Anything you’re craving? Thought I could pick something up.”

I almost typed out he didn’t have to do Friday but stopped myself. Before cancer, I wouldn’t have doubted his intentions. Why was I doing so now? We were simply two people spending time together.

“Soup sounds great.”

“Chowder?”

Clam chowder sounded delicious. I was practically counting the hours.

“You bet.”

“Good. See you about six on Friday. Don’t worry, I’ll still knock even though I have a key.”

Three more days. Why did it seem so long? My ex and I would go a week and sometimes more without seeing one another when our schedules got overly complicated. Yet right now, I was already missing Kellan. Still, I had something to look forward to and would hopefully be feeling better in a few days.

“Thanks. See you then.”

My smile was still lingering when Patty arrived. Other than yesterday, which had been my first day home from the hospital, we’d worked out a regular schedule. She’d come by in the mornings between nine and ten each day for the next week. Then she’d drop by for the first few days after each chemo round to take my vitals and check my blood counts.

“I take it by your smile last night’s dinner went well.”

“It did. Thank you for doing my hair. I felt like a real person again.”

She tsked and led the way to my bathroom. There she went to work on unwrapping my bandage and checking the drains. I noticed she was careful to angle me away from the mirror. I was grateful not to have another look at my chest. “You are a real person always, honey, but I get what you’re saying.”

“I tried to give him an out last night. He’s either stubborn or doesn’t want one,” I admitted.

“Probably both if he didn’t take it. For me, the hardest part about cancer treatments was relying on others. For rides to the hospital, for helping me with care such as this, or even for making a meal. I was constantly beating myself up for accepting help.”