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Every time I looked at her, I searched her face for a sign that she was in pain. Nothing she said could calm my nerves.
“Have you told your dad?” I asked as she sat down behind her desk.
She jerked her head up. Our eyes met, and she shook her head, quickly looking away again.
“Tara,” I said. “You can’t keep putting this off. He needs to know.”
“Why?” she asked. “The doctors haven’t even planned out my treatment yet. They have an idea. Chemo. Radiation. Possibly surgery. But they don’t know anything. I have to go in for more tests, and then I’ll tell him.”
“You will?” I asked. I knew she was lying.
“I’ll tell him when it’s time,” she said evasively.
“And when will that be?” I demanded.
“Caleb, back off.” Her eyes were narrowed and her voice was sharp.
“No,” I said firmly. “Look, you know I’m not your father’s biggest fan. Truth is, I can’t stand the asshole.”
“Caleb.”
“But,” I said loudly, “he’s your dad, Tara. He loves you, and he deserves to know the truth, okay? You can’t hide from this forever.”
Tara glared at me, but I didn’t back down. I was right, and she knew it. Darren was a doctor, for fuck’s sake. If any parent deserved to know their child had cancer, it was him.
“It’s not that easy,” Tara said. “What do I say? ‘Hey dad, I’m dying. Talk to you later.’ Not exactly something you can put on a Christmas card.”
“You tell him the truth,” I said.
“I know this isn’t fair to you,” Tara said. “You’re the only one who knows and that puts pressure on you.”
“You think that’s what this is about?” I asked, taking a step back.
“Well, yeah.”
“No.” I laughed. “God, Tara, I don’t give a shit about that. I just want to help you, and I think your dad might be able to do that. You need people around you. More people than just me. You need Darren and my mom. You need Stephanie and your other friends. This fight isn’t going to be easy. You’ll need support.”
“Why?” Tara snapped. “So everyone can watch me die?”
Her words cut through my chest like a knife. I took another step back and shook my head slowly. How could she even say that?
“That’s not funny,” I said darkly.
“You’re right,” she said. “It’s not funny, and that’s why I haven’t said anything. All this will do is make everyone sad. I don’t want that.”
“What about what you need?” I asked.
“What I need,” she said, taking a deep breath, “is for you to let this go. Let it go and let me get back to work. I have another patient coming in any minute.”
She turned away from me without another word. I stared at the back of her head, watching her while she bent over her desk and shuffled some papers. Her shoulders were tight, and her entire body was trembling. No matter what she said, she needed people around her. She was scared. She was sick. This wasn’t something she could face alone.
I opened my mouth to argue again but the sound of an opening door distracted me. I turned my head to see my mom walking toward us. She was there to drive me home. She smiled and waved as she moved closer to us. When she saw the look on my face, she slowed down. The smile disappeared, and she looked from Tara to me nervously.
“Everything okay?” Mom asked.
“Hey Cathy,” Tara said. She plastered a fake smile on her face.
“Hi honey,” Mom said. She smiled back, but she looked worried.
