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“Well, I had to take him to the emergency room again. He woke up in the middle of the night with severe pain in his side.”
“Yeah, that's been going on for a while. Has it gotten that bad now?”
“Actually, Emerson, it has. He was hoping it wasn’t going to be anything and he wouldn’t have to worry you, but he went to the doctor earlier this week. They finally checked him out properly, and…” she paused. Trying to maintain her composure, but she was clearly on the verge of crying. “They've found a tumor, sweetheart. It’s cancer.”
I felt as if I'd just been kicked in the stomach and the breath had been knocked out of me. I wanted to faint and throw up all at once. “Oh, my God.”
“There is some good news, though. Well, as good as it can be under the circumstances.”
“Alright. What is it?” I half whispered.
“They're able to operate. There's a very good chance they can remove the tumor with surgery, and they said they don’t believe the cancer has spread. So, while the long-term prognosis isn’t too bad, the problem is the surgery itself. The tumor is close to his vital organs and it's going to be a risky procedure.”
“When is the operation scheduled for? I'll come up right now.”
“No, you don't need to come up now. He's probably going to be knocked out from the pain meds for most of today and tonight. But, I think he'd appreciate you being here tomorrow, the night before the surgery.”
“Done. I'll take Monday a
nd Tuesday off class. I'll leave first thing tomorrow morning and should get there by late afternoon tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Emerson. You're a good son.”
“Thanks for calling me, Anne. I appreciate it. Let me know if anything changes.”
“I will. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
I put my phone down and just lay back on my bed, my head reeling. I felt so helpless. All I could do was hope and pray my dad would be alright. In the meantime, I needed to keep my mind off of it. That meant studying until it was time to cook dinner for Brooke.
***
I knocked on Brooke's door, carrying a tray with a pot of fragrant ravioli and a few side dishes I'd whipped up over the course of the last few hours. The cooking had provided me with a decent distraction from the worry about my dad. In the process of cooking, I'd realized that worrying was only making me feel worse. There was absolutely nothing I could do aside from get to Dad's place the following day and be there for him before he went in for surgery. For the moment, though, it was best not to think about it. I hoped being with Brooke would be a big enough distraction from the horrible situation.
Brooked opened the door with a smile, and I was slightly surprised to see that she’d put on makeup. Maybe she was taking dinner a little more seriously than I'd thought she would. I was immediately glad that I'd shaved, showered, and put on my favorite cologne before coming over.
I stepped inside and couldn't help chuckling as I saw that she'd set up a few candles around the place as we had discussed. “Nice ambiance,” I said.
“You asked for it. But if you don’t have wine, I’m blowing them out,” she replied with a wink. “So, what are you treating me with?”
“Ravioli with a tomato cream sauce and side dishes of potato salad with herbs, bruschetta with basil pesto, and some olives and cream.”
“Wow! Going the Italian route, huh?”
“And,” I said, trying to draw out the moment of suspense, “some French red. So, don’t you dare touch those candles.” With that, I pulled my hand from behind my back, revealing the bottle of red wine I'd hidden there.
“Oh, awesome!” she exclaimed. Her eyes looked absolutely gorgeous as they sparkled in the low, subtle candlelight.
“Well, I dunno about you,” I said, “but I'm kinda starving. How about we sit down and enjoy this while it's still hot?”
“That sounds lovely,” she replied. “Take a seat at the table, and I'll go get the wine glasses from the kitchen.”
I took a seat and watched her sashaying over to the kitchen. I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the way her dress hugged the contours of her very shapely, firm butt. I felt a stirring down below and decided I'd better sit down and keep my lap under the table, lest my excitement become too… obvious.
She returned smiling and carrying two wine glasses and a corkscrew, which she set on the table in front of me.
I uncorked the wine. “Say when,” I suggested as took her glass to fill. I started pouring, and when the glass was about three quarters full, Brooke said when.
