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I hummed an agreement and settled into the comfortable leather seat.
“I don't know what magic you worked on Emma this week, but she seems to love the daycare,” Eric told me. “Every day when she gets home, she calls her Nana up and has dozens of things to say to her about all the things that she did. I heard you made and painted pasta necklaces today; Emma can't wait to bring hers home to show us.”
I smiled over at him. “Glad she's enjoying it,” I told him.
“I hope she's behaving herself, too,” Eric said, glancing over. “I know she can be a handful sometimes.”
I laughed. “Kids are always a handful sometimes,” I told him.
“I bet they are,” Eric said, nodding. “I can't imagine being a daycare provider and working with kids day in and day out. I hardly ever have to see kids for appointments here in Tamlin, and it's still too much for me!”
“I'm sure it's great for you, though, since you can bribe them with suckers,” I said. “If I bribed my kids with suckers every time I needed them to behave, I'd be going through a small fortune supplying them, and it would only make them bounce off the walls even more!”
Eric laughed. “That's true,” he agreed.
“Still, I can't imagine being a single parent,” I mused, shaking my head. “At least I get to hand the kids back to their parents at the end of the day.”
“You still have to worry about screwing them up for life, though,” Eric joked.
I laughed. “But at least if I do screw them up for life, I'm not the one who has to deal with them later,” I reminded him. “You're stuck with them for life.”
We chatted the whole way to the restaurant, and there was something easy about it. I really liked Eric; he was funny and witty, and very down-to-earth. If this had been a date, I definitely would have said that sparks were flying.
But this isn't a date, I reminded myself as we waited for our meals to arrive. I took another sip of my wine. It was my second glass, and I was starting to feel a little flushed. But the wine was tasty, and the food, when it arrived, was just as good as Eric had promised.
I just couldn't figure out how to bring up the questions that I had regarding my mother's medical situation. It was the elephant in the room, the reason for this whole affair. As much as I wanted this to be a date, I couldn't help remembering that this was Dr. Jones sitting across from me, and he was waiting patiently before telling me all the details about my mother's cancer.
Fortunately, he was the one who finally brought up the conversation. He placed both his palms flat on the table as our plates were cleared away. “Regarding your mother,” he said slowly.
I nodded. “You said the cancer was progressing,” I said.
“It is,” Eric agreed. “Her last scan showed significant progression.?
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“What are our options for treatment?” I asked. “Can it be surgically removed?”
“With the way that it's spread already, I'm afraid that's just not possible,” Eric said. “The best chance that we have to slow its progression is chemotherapy. But we'd need to begin that immediately.”
“What are her other options?” I asked, knowing that there was no way I was going to convince Mom to start chemo immediately, not when she thought this was just a ploy to get her money. Chemo was expensive, I knew. I wondered whether she would even be able to come up with the money: Mom had been a schoolteacher in a low-income part of the city for the past two decades. She had always loved her job, but it wasn't particularly well-paying.
“I'm afraid there aren't any other options,” Eric said slowly. “There are some experimental treatments that might work, but most of those would be used in conjunction with chemo treatments.” He paused. “I understand what your mom is going through. This is very scary business.”
I shook my head. “It's not just that it's scary,” I sighed. But I didn't exactly want to tell him that Mom thought he was scamming people out of their hard-earned money.
“I know,” Eric said, though, looking away from me for a moment. He looked pained but also thoughtful. Then, he shook his head. “I know,” he repeated. “But trust me, no matter how scary the idea of chemotherapy is, it's better than the alternative. She could get worse, faster. Neither of you wants that to happen, trust me.” He frowned. “I know I must sound like the boogeyman, saying that. I don't want to scare you, but I need you to realize that this is a very serious disease that we're talking about.”
He looked so earnest that I realized there was no way I could continue to deny this. I nodded slowly. “What do you need me to do?” I asked.
“You and your mother are close,” Eric said. “If you could have a frank talk with her, make her realize what could happen, remind her how much it would hurt you as well if she were to get worse, maybe she could begin to see reason.”
“I'll try,” I said softly. “No promises, but I'll try.” I didn't know if Mom would listen to me, but I couldn't even imagine how much it would hurt me to have to watch her get worse and worse.
I swallowed hard and resolved to talk to her as soon as I saw her again. But for now, I took another sip of my wine and followed along as Eric changed the topic of conversation.
Chapter Five
Eric
