Page 7 of Born to be Wilder

“I’m not dying. I’ll be fine,” Alice said quietly.

“That’s the least believable statement I’ve ever heard. Again!” Marge commanded.

Alice repeated it, this time a little stronger.

I shook my head. “Nope. I didn’t believe you believed it. Again, Alice, and mean it this time.”

We stared at her as her gaze passed over the three of us. Then she set down her glass, stood up, opened her arms, and screamed, “I’M NOT DYING! I’M GOING TO KICK THIS CANCER’S ASS!”

We all cheered and jumped up, the four of us collapsing into a hug. We smooshed her between us as if our own bodies could shield her from anything, even the disease taking root inside her.

“That’s more like it.” Marge patted her on the back. “You’re a soldier now. A warrior. And I know a thing or two about warriors. So we’re just gonna keep reminding you that you’re a fighter, Alice. Because you are.”

Alice’s façade cracked for the first time, and a slight sheen glimmered in her eyes as she lifted her chin. “You’re right. I don’t like to lose, and I don’t intend to start now.”

Marge clapped her hands together. “Okay, so then, pick. Right now. Pick one thing you want to do before the battle… not before you die. Big distinction.”

Alice broke from our group and slid back down into her seat, slipping her glass of whiskey between her fingers as she considered. We all sat around her, watching and waiting, until her face lit up.

“I know what I want to do.” She smiled.

“Name it,” I said quickly. “Whatever it is, we’re with you.”

“Actually, there’s something happening right now that I’ve always wanted to do and never did.”

“What is it?” Doris scooched forward in her seat.

Alice opened her mouth to speak, but then Marge held up a hand and shouted, “Wait!”

We spun to look at her as she leaped up and grabbed the knitting basket. She hustled to my kitchen, pulled out a Tupperware container, and dumped the folded up wishes inside. Then she marched to my freezer and stuck the Tupperware in it.

“What are you doing?” I asked as she came back carrying the empty knitting basket, picking up a pen and notepad from my counter on her way.

“We may not be doing our wishes this year, so I’m freezing them until next year. But this is still a Wilder Widows trip, so we should start it by drawing a wish. So, Alice, write it down. Then drop it in here and we’ll pull it out and read it.”

“Oh, I like this!” Doris clapped.

“Great idea, Marge,” I said.

Alice took the pen and paper, jotted down her wish, then dropped it into the basket.

Marge gave the basket a little shake. “Okay, first, a toast.”

We all grabbed our glasses of whiskey and lifted them into the air.

“To Alice,” Marge started. “You may be the biggest pain in my ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. And pain in the ass or not, you’re strong, you’re relentless, you’re unrelenting when you want something, and if there is anyone on this planet who can kick cancer’s ass and make it look good, it’s you.”

Alice smiled, and I saw that slight sheen starting in her eye again, but she blinked it back.

I lifted my glass a little higher. “This is going to be a battle. It’s going to get tough and ugly and hard. But you’re never going to be alone through it. We’re all going to be with you every step of the way. We’ll be your strength when you’re weak, your courage when you’re scared, and your daily reminder that this world needs you—that we need you—so you’re going to fight with everything you have until you’re cancer-free.”

“We love you, Alice,” Doris said, her tears starting again. “And no matter what you need, the Wilder Widows are here for you. Always.”

Alice started to lose the war against her emotions, but she smiled through them. “Thank you, ladies. I know you’re going to be the soldiers I need in this battle. And I’m so grateful for each and every one of you. I love you.”

A tear slipped out and slid down my cheek as I leaned forward with my glass, the other widows doing the same. “I love you too.”

They all echoed the sentiment, then we clinked our glasses together.