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"You had cancer and you didn’t tell us?"
That was the one part my brain was sticking fast on.
"Your father and I agreed that it would only freak you all out, and it wasn’t necessary."
"Wasn’t necessary?" I shrieked. "Okay, are you still in New York because I need to come and kick yours and Daddy’s asses."
"Savvie!" Mom chided. "Don’t say that. We were looking out for you. Aspen and Paris aren’t in a good place right now. Your sister’s night terrors have come back, and you know what one feels the other does too.
"Then there’s the fact that Camden’s gambling addiction is going crazy seeing as the anniversary of Locke’s death is coming up, and you just lost your father-in-law—"
"So? All of that shit is shit. It’s life. So is you being sick and your kids not being there to support you. I can’t believe I’m only just hearing about this.
"Do you seriously think we care so little that we wouldn’t have been there for you?"
"Of course not," she said with a sniff, sounding more like the mom who’d raised me to be an independent woman who took no shit from any man.
Or woman.
Or mother.
As the case might be.
"Then?"
"I wanted to deal with it alone, Savannah."
"Why?" I sputtered.
"Because it was my right to. I didn’t even want to tell your father, but it’s impossible to keep anything from him." She huffed. "He’s all up in my business."
"Thank God he is!" I ground out. "Why wouldn’t you want us there?"
"Because being sick is undignified, child. For God’s sake, can’t you see that?" She blew out a breath. "The only reason I said anything now is because I just got off the phone with the damn doctor and you took me by surprise."
My brow furrowed. "You wouldn’t have told us about the surgery, either?"
She was silent long enough that I knew her answer was no but that she didn’t want to say it out loud.
For a second, I let that silence between us settle.
I thought about Aidan’s bitterness at his father’s lack of a goodbye; I thought about how Aidan Sr. had kepthisillness a secret from everyone too.
The parallels were many, and they hurt.
But... Mom, more than anyone else, had taught me about consent and the right I had over my body: a dominion no one else had over it.
It pained me to see this from her perspective, but wasn't this just another type of consent? Of control over oneself?
I licked my lips and, slowly, whispered, "I want you to tell me if you need me for anything. I want you to tell me if you need me to come to the hospital. I want you to know that I’ll be there in an instant the moment you message or phone. I want you to know that I’ll respect your privacy, even if—" I sucked in a breath, withholding the ‘even if it hurts me’ because that wasn’t something to burden her with. So I just swallowed and rasped, "—even if… just… know that I love you, Mom. Okay?"
A sniffle sounded down the line. "Thank you, baby. I’ll bear all that in mind." There were a couple more sniffles before she cleared her throat and, sounding cheerful again, queried, "Now, why did you call?"
"Does there have to be a reason?" I argued, needing to be my usual snarky self before I burst into tears.
If she could be cheerful then I could be snarky.
"Well, no, but there usually is with you."
