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But as quickly as the feeling hits me, it dies just as fast. Because reality always has a way of finding its way back in, even when you try not to let it.
“Are you going to see him again?”
Am I?Will I live long enough to see him again? It’s the question I’ve spent all morning asking myself.
“I don’t know.” I shrug.
“Why don’t you know?” Claire eyes me warily, clearly sensing the shift in my demeanor.
“Well, that’s the thing.” I have trouble holding her gaze as I prepare to say the words out loud for the first time. “You know how I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday to discuss the results of my MRI and blood work?”
“I tried calling to find out what they said but someone sent me to voicemail.” She gives me a knowing look. “What did they say? Did they figure out what’s going on?”
“They did.” I nod slowly, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat.
“Well, what is it?” I can tell by her voice that she’s growing impatient.
I force myself to look her in the eyes as I utter the three words I never dreamt in a million years I’d be saying to someone. “I have cancer.”
All the color drains from her face as she processes what I admitted.
“A malignant brain tumor to be exact.” Even as I say it out loud, it still doesn’t seem real.
“A brain tumor,” she manages after several long seconds. “But how?” She shakes her head, disbelief written all over her face.
“No idea.” I shrug. “How does anyone end up with a brain tumor? It’s just something that happens.”
“But they can treat it, right? You’ll be okay.”
“They’re going to try. But it’s not promising.” I choose to give it to her straight. She’s going to find out come tomorrow, anyway. The very least I can do is prepare her for the most likely outcome. Which is that I won’t make it.
“What do you mean?”
“The position and size of the tumor makes surgery very difficult. So difficult that the success rate is less than thirty percent.”
“Surely there are other ways to treat it,” she cuts me off.
“Unfortunately, we’re way past any other option. The doctor said if they don’t operate, I only have months left.”
“But...” Tears well behind her eyes and she immediately reaches for my hand across the table. “You can’t die,” she croaks. “You can’t. And you won’t.” She quickly composes herself, big sister mode switching on. “You will fight this.Wewill fight this. They say you have to have surgery, then surgery it is, and you’ll kick that surgery’s ass. Just like you’ll kick this cancer’s ass. How soon are they wanting to operate?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She draws back as if she’s been physically struck. “And you didn’t think to tell me this yesterday when you found out?”
“I wanted to. I just didn’t know how. And then I met Abel and he was funny and handsome and for a while he made me forget. And I wanted to forget.”
“Tomorrow,” she repeats, leaning back in her chair before her eyes go up to the ceiling. Something I’ve learned she does when she’s trying to compartmentalize her emotions. “You must be terrified.” When her gaze comes back to mine her expression is softer, pity taking the place of confusion and anger. “What time?”
“I have to be at the hospital at seven in the morning.”
“Okay.” She nods slowly. “I’ll take off work. There’s no way I’m not going with you.” She doesn’t give me a choice in the matter, which is fine because I don’t think I could even walk into that hospital without her at my side. “What about your mom?”
“What about her?”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Even if I wanted to, I have no idea how to get a hold of her. It’s not like I can pick up the phone and call her.”
