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"Also," I continue, "they paired that with an autologous dendritic cell vaccine to boost Mom's immune response."
"Autolo-what?" Lola interrupts, brow furrowed.
"Autologous means from her own body," I clarify. "They took cells from Mom, tweaked them in the lab, and put them back to help her fight the cancer."
"Wow," Lola breathes out, impressed despite herself. “This is cool stuff.”
"Even with these advances," I forge on, feeling the weight of information I still need to share, "there's a lot we have to do. Pancreatic cancer is notorious for recurrence. We'll be battling this for a long time."
"Whatever it takes," Dick says firmly, and we all nod in silent agreement.
"Guys, this is indeed good news, but we may have a slight problem," I say after a moment, the joy of the good news souring as reality sets in. "The doctor wants Mom to stay here another three months before going home. To make sure she's stable."
"That's fine, right? She is staying longer at the clinic for observation?" Jenny asks.
"She can't," I say, my stomach tightening. "She'd have to come here. We might have to tell her where she is. That this is Liam’s home. There are pictures of him everywhere.”
"Tony," Jenny chides sharply. "Bite your tongue. What an awful thing to say."
"Mom can't know about this," Dick interjects, his voice a low growl of warning. "We already talked about this . . . Mom can never know about this. It would kill her."
I run a hand through my hair, the strands catching between my fingers. "I know," I admit, defeated. "I know."
"Okay, let's think this through," Dick starts, his face pinched in concentration on my laptop screen. "We could say it's a rental.”
"Zurich isn't exactly brimming with affordable rentals," I shoot back, frustration seeping into my words. My fingers drum against the table, the rhythm erratic. “We have already been here four months. What do I say when she asks where we got the money from?”
"What if we said it was a friend's place? Someone who happened to be away for three months?" Jenny chimes in.
"Mom would insist on sending them a thank-you card, at least. She'll want details." My gaze flickers to Liam's framed photo by my bedside, the glass reflecting my troubled expression. "And what sort of friend lends their house out for three months?"
"Tony's right. We can't half-bake this," Dick says, leaning closer to his webcam. "She'd smell a lie from a mile away. Remember when I tried to hide that D in algebra?"
A collective grimace travels through the digital connection. Mom had always had a knack for unraveling our teenage deceptions with a single pointed look.
"Guys, what are we going to do?" I ask, desperation creeping into my voice.
"Tony, isn't there some kind of home care service in Switzerland?" Jenny inquires, her maternal instincts kicking in despite our predicament.
"Sure, if you want to sell a kidney to afford it," I quip, only half-joking. "This isn't just about logistics. It's about keeping the truth from her, and that means creating a convincing story she won't question."
Silence hangs heavy in the virtual room, the weight of our mother's ignorance a shroud over us all. The cursor blinks mockingly at me from an open document on the screen—a blank page I can't seem to fill.
"Maybe we're overthinking it," Dick muses after a beat. "We don't need a complicated story. Just something simple and believable."
"Simple and believable," I echo, rolling the words around like a new flavor, unfamiliar yet enticing.
"Look, Tony," Lola jumps in, her voice slicing through the tension. "You've done so much already. Taking leave from school being there for Mom every step of the way. Let us help with this."
"Thanks, Lols, but how?" I ask, rubbing at the tension knotting my neck. "We need a solution that doesn’t involve constructing an elaborate web of lies. With every lie, I feel like we are betraying her.”
“But we are.” Dick growls.
"Alright, alright," Jenny interjects, her tone shifting, a hint of an idea sparking in her eyes. "What about something temporary? Like... like a vacation spot."
"Vacation spot?" Dick repeats, dubious.
"An Airbnb," Lola suddenly blurts out, her eyes widening with the realization. "What if you tell her that it's an Airbnb? That we all pooled our money and rented an Airbnb for her recovery?"
