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“I’ll be back. I just have to take this.”
Chris shoots me a sympathetic look, and I know he knows who’s calling.
I head out to the backyard and sit on the patio furniture. The water feature changes from red to blue to purple, and I watch the colors for a beat, gathering courage for this phone call.
Hitting the Answer button, my parents’ faces appear on the screen. “Hi, shunshine, how are you?”
I hear the slur in their words, and my stomach knots on reflex. Not again!
“We have some good news!”
So straight to the point, then. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Your mom doesn’t have cancer.” Dad beams and clinks his beer can against Mom’s wine glass.
“Woot woot!” Mom beams at the screen. Her teeth are stained from all the red wine she consumes.
I feel the blood drain from my face. “Cancer?”
Mom waves her hand. “I found a lump in my breast. It turned out to be a benign cyst. Nothing to stress about. I should have listened to Belinda. She told me not to worry.”
Belinda? I don’t get what’s going on. “Wait. I don’t understand. What about cancer?”
Dad takes a swig of his beer. “Like we said, there’s nothing to worry about. “
“Yeah, no drama here. It’s been a long three weeks, but we got through it.” Mom laughs and clinks her glass against Dad’s empty can on the table. It falls over and rolls onto the floor.
“Three weeks? You’ve been worried about this for three weeks? Why didn’t you tell me?”
They look at each other, their smiles only for one another.
I can’t help but feel completely outside their little bubble. It’s always been this way. Like I’m some kind of interloper.
Mom does her wavy hand thing again. “Psht, Belinda was dealing with it all. She had it all under control. There was no need to worry you.”
Belinda isn’t your child. She’s your niece. As much as I want to tell them how hurt I am, I know there’s no point.
“So no cancer then?” First the move and now this. At least Mom seems to be in a better mood this time.
“No cancer.” They say it in unison.
“I’m so happy.” And I am. I wouldn’t want my mother to go through cancer treatment, but at the same time, I’m grieving for a lifetime of being on the outside of my family.
“Well, we better go. Belinda and Amos are taking us for a celebratory dinner. Just thought we’d pop in and let you know. Especially after last time when you got so uppity about Dad’s stroke.” My mom rolls her eyes at the memory.
“I worry about you two.” I can hear the defeat in my voice, but my parents don’t notice.
They give each other a look, and I know it’s time to go. They feel like they’ve made their obligatory phone call.
“Oh, before we go, Dad is taking me away for Mother’s Day. I’ll forward the address where you can send the gift.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Why does this still hurt?
The doorbell rings and Mom jumps up. Then she bends down to face the screen. “Take care.”
“Have fun.” My tone is flat.
“We will, sunshine.”
