by Shauna Allen
I stopped myself there. It’d only been a couple of days. I was reading way too much into things . . .
My office phone rang and I snatched it up, happy for the distraction.
“Ms. Waters, school counselor.”
“Tori?”
“Mom?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” Her voice sounded wobbly and meshed with the muffled noise of conversation in the background.
“What’s up? Why didn’t you call my cell?”
“Oh.” She shuffled and the noise quieted. “I just hit the first button by your name. Guess it was your work number. I’m sorry.”
She sounded suspiciously devoid of emotion and I sat back in my chair with a frown. “It’s okay. What’s going on?”
“I, uh . . .” Her footsteps echoed down a hallway of some kind. “Can you come over tonight after work? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
My intuition squirmed, making my heart thud uncomfortably. “What kind of something?”
A door slammed over the phone, then silence. “Tonight, okay? I’ll cook something and we can talk after dinner.”
That squirming became a vicious tug on my gut. “Why can’t you tell me now?”
“I just . . .”
“Mom. What is it? You’re making me nervous.”
A breath of air puffed across the line. “I went to the doctor like you asked me to. They ran some tests.”
“That’s good. And?”
“And I have cancer.”
Cancer.
The word was like a jackhammer in my brain for the rest of the day. She refused to talk specifics or give me any details, so I had no idea what to expect when I got to the house. Was it bad? Was it something minor and easily treatable?
Was there such a thing as minor cancer? That’s like being a little bit pregnant. An oxymoron.
Hope answered the door, her long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked so young and I couldn’t help but wonder what our mother’s cancer diagnosis would mean for her. She was fairly high functioning for someone with Down syndrome, but she still required a lot of care. Living on her own was most likely never going to be possible for her.
“Hi, Tori.” She hugged me tight and planted a wet kiss to my cheek.
“Hey, Hopey. How was school?”
“Good.”
She stayed close to my side as I made my way to the kitchen, as if something was making her nervous. Had Mom told her yet? What about Kendall?
Mom was at the counter, tossing a simple green salad. She looked up when we walked in the room and gave me a forced smile. “Hey. Thanks for coming.”
I pulled her into a hug, swallowing the painful lump that had taken up residence in my throat. “Of course. I wish you would’ve let me pick up dinner.”
“Nonsense. You know I like to cook. It calms me.” The tremor in her hands was so mild, I almost missed it.
I slid my hand over hers, stilling her motion. “What can I do?”
She shook her head and sniffled. “Nothing. We’re just having grilled pork chops and salad. I couldn’t . . . I didn’t want to do anything too big.”
“I understand.” I gently pried the knife from her hands and continued chopping.
Her smile was small and forced, but grateful. “I’ll check the pork chops.”
Dinner was a somber affair, with only the sounds of our silverware clanking on our dishes and the hum of the refrigerator to fill the void. Even my mother’s delicious meal couldn’t stifle the nerves at our table. But I honored my mom’s wishes and didn’t say anything until she brought it up. She wanted a peaceful meal before divulging news that could potentially alter the course of our lives forever…by God, she’d get dinner first.
I sat back when I was done. “That was delicious, Mom.”
“Thanks.” She smiled at Hope, who was playing with the uneaten carrots in her bowl. “Hope? Why don’t you take your plate to the sink then go get a shower. I need to talk to Tori for a few minutes.”
Hope’s big eyes met hers. “Okay.” She did as she was told and once she was gone, my mom sagged in her chair, her face painted with all the pent up emotion she’d hidden all night.
“Does she know?” I asked quietly.
“Yes.” She huffed a breath, then faced me. “As much as she can understand, anyway. She’s never had to deal with anything like this other than when her hamster, Miss Piggy, ran away. I’m not sure she gets it.”
I bit my cheek. What to say? I rose and picked up both of our plates and headed to the sink. “Gets what, exactly? You never said what the doctor told you.”
She said nothing for several long moments. When I turned back to her, she was crumpled in half, silent tears streaming down her face.
“Oh, Mom.” I rushed over and collected her in my arms as the words she’d been holding in all day came tumbling out.
Lung cancer.
Stage four.
Inoperable.
Six to twelve month prognosis.
Two percent survival rate with treatment.
Chemotherapy, radiation, hospitals, specialists, side effects . . . hospice.
Dying.
We were both sobbing by the time she finished. I was numb. Feelings so foreign, they had no name, crowded my chest, making me feel naked. Acutely, achingly vulnerable.
A chasm had cracked open beneath us, threatening to suck away the life we’d known to be true. Reality, gone in one instant, to be replaced by a distorted, ugly version of itself.
“What are you going to do?” I finally managed to ask.
She peered at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t know. It’s all a little overwhelming.”
“I can imagine.”
“I still need to call Kendall. Will you stay with me while I do that?”
“Absolutely.”
I sat silently, holding my mom’s hand, as she dialed my older sister in California and gave her the news. I heard Kendall’s bitter cries from the other end of the line.
This was devastating news. For all of us.
Mom left me to talk to my sister while she tucked Hope into bed and we danced around the elephant in the room. Who wanted to admit that their mother was poised to lose an almost impossible fight?
We didn’t. We couldn’t.
Mom eventually reappeared with her hair freshly brushed and her face washed. I handed her back the phone and listened as she laid out her wishes.
By the time I left that night, it was clear that her main concern was her girls, especially Hope. Kendall and I both assured her that we would take care of Hope no matter what. In return, we got her to promise to give the specialist a shot.
“But, girls,” she said, her voice strong and sure. “If this specialist confirms that my prognosis is as bad as I’ve been told, I want you to know that I don’t plan on seeking aggressive treatment. I refuse to be miserable only to die anyway.”
And there it was.
Barring a miracle, my mother was going to die.
Trace
My life had become a fucking whirlwind of epic proportions.
After we all went into my condo Halloween night, things went from bad to worse. My mom listened with sympathy to Kristi’s tales of rehab and consulting a spiritual guru (as in ex-junkie turned Hippie) and how she was working to get her life in order. The problem was, she had no evidence to back that up . . . she had no job, no car, was sleeping on a friend’s couch, and she had no real plans for a future. After a while, even Mom wasn’t buying her line of crap. She shot me a sympathetic look when she and Dad left after helping me get Ryder bathed and tucked in.
That left me alone with Kristi for the first time in seven years.
I stared at this woman, who had simultaneously been my biggest mistake and the vessel of my biggest blessing. I hardly recognized her anymore. Heavy drug use had whittled her down to practically a skeleton, though her face was the same. Thinner, but the same. It had been what attracted me to her that fateful night. High cheekb
ones. Full lips. Doe-like eyes that I’d convinced myself were innocent.
Her beauty had faded to a washed out, watered down version of what it once was and she seemed so tired now.
Our conversation quickly morphed into an argument, old transgressions heavy on the agenda. We reached an impasse, and thankfully she left before it got heated.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised. “And I plan to spend time with my son.”
I didn’t see a way to argue. I nodded tersely and showed her the door.
Sunday did not go much better, and as much as I wanted to reach out to Tori for my own sanity, I did not leave Ryder’s line of sight until Kristi finally left again at his bedtime.
Monday, my poor kid was so emotionally turned around, I called in sick to the shop and kept him home from school for a father-son mental health day, full of video games, football, and junk food.
I saw Tori’s text from that morning, but I didn’t reply. I was a coward. I didn’t want to answer for this mess in my life or have to contend with the fallout. I was alternately torn between the woman I loved and the woman who’d given birth to the person I loved most.
But it was no contest. Ryder won. He would every single time.
“Can I have some more chicken nuggets?” Ry asked from his perch snuggled next to me as we watched Transformers. Yes, eating on the couch. So what?
“Sure, Buddy.” I scooted out from under him and refilled both of our plates, adding bigger gobs of ketchup.
Probably the biggest reason I’d bolstered him with Daddy time was that I wasn’t at all sure how this mom thing would ultimately go down. And that killed me.
I sat and checked the time, my stomach catching. Kristi had promised she’d be back again tonight. She wanted to spend more time with Ry and try tucking him into bed. I’d thought about fighting her, but I couldn’t decide what would be best for Ryder, so I relented. One baby step at a time, I figured.
As the movie ended, someone knocked. Ryder glanced at me. “Is that her?”
“Yeah, Buddy. You okay with this?”
He shrugged. “I guess she’s nice.”
I stifled any negative reply. He shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for liking his own mother. “Yeah,” I agreed halfheartedly as we stood to answer the door together.
“Hi.” Kristi smiled warmly, her cheeks flushed with color from the cool autumn breeze.
“Hi.” I let her in and Ryder stayed firmly planted at my side.
She studied the condo, seeming to see it for the first time—my few attempts at decorating with old movie posters and car prints, my leather sofa, big screen TV . . . Ryder’s toys cluttering the plain brown rug.
I scrutinized her. She seemed healthier today, more rested. Her clothes fit better, her hair was shiny and loose.
She pivoted back to us, her purse still clutched in her hands. “I was wondering . . . do you think I could take Ryder for an ice cream?”
“Alone?” I nearly swallowed my tongue.
Her eyes snapped fire. “Yes. Alone. It’s only an ice cream. We can walk to the Dairy Queen and be back in less than an hour.”
I bit my lip. Ryder’s face had lit up at the mention of ice cream. Damn it. “Fine.” I faced Ry. “Go get your coat, Buddy.”
Grinning, he skipped off to his room. He was so easily bought.
Once we were alone, I narrowed my eyes at Kristi. “I’m only allowing this because you’re his mother and I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Once. You have one hour. If he’s not back in this condo by then, or if he even looks like you’ve upset him in any way, you’ll never see him again. Understood?”
Anger lit her face now. “Understood.”
“Good.”
Ryder came running back, his red jacket in place. “Bye, Dad.”
“Have fun.”
“One hour,” I whispered for her ears only. “Don’t make me come get him.”
She ignored me and ushered him out the door. I watched from the window until they were at the end of the lot. As they turned the corner, out of my sight, my stomach lurched to my throat. Foregoing a jacket or even shoes, I dashed out the front door to the corner and peeked around.
She had his hand now and he was staring up at her, talking animatedly. She smiled down at him. They looked like every other mother and son.
I waited until they entered the restaurant, my eyes glued to the door they’d disappeared through. Releasing a huge breath, I loped back to the condo on my now frozen feet.
I paced for about ten minutes, making myself crazy with dozens of nightmarish thoughts. Before I marched my ass down to the DQ, I relented and picked up my phone and dialed the one person I wanted to talk to most. The only one who could calm my panicked heart.
She didn’t answer.
“Hey, Tori,” I left a message with a frown. “It’s Trace. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back with you. It’s been crazy . . .” I peered at the door again, willing them to return early. “I, uh, I miss you. Gimme a call back when you get this.”
I hung up and bowed my head. Why couldn’t I just tell her I needed her?
I waited about another five minutes then slammed my feet into my boots, grabbed my hoodie, and scooted back to the corner. I leaned against someone’s old truck and kept my eyes peeled on the Dairy Queen.
With five minutes to spare, and just as I was primed to go grab my kid, they started my way. As soon as Kristi spotted me, her eyes narrowed, but she quickly recovered and diverted her attention back to Ryder.
I stood as they neared and Ryder noticed me. “Daddy!” He broke from her and took a running leap into my arms. “I got an M&M Blizzard!”
“You did? Was it good?”
“Uh huh.”
I wiped the remnants of his ice cream from his cheek with my thumb and gave Kristi my best attempt at a smile. Maybe a truce would be the best course of action.
Ryder swung down and ran off to say hi to Mrs. C and Simon, who were moseying around the grassy area.
“Didn’t trust me?” Kristi asked under her breath as we followed.
I frowned. “Not really. Why should I?”
“Because I’m his mother.”
“Really? Since when?”
That silenced her and I felt her fuming as I ignored her and said hello to Mrs. Callahan. I purposely didn’t introduce Kristi as Ry chatted on cheerfully about school and football and Sam the snake in his classroom.
“Okay,” I interrupted him. “Bath time.”
He groaned and trudged back to the condo with us. I got him stripped down and into the bath just as my phone rang. I checked the Caller ID. Tori. But Kristi was leaning against the doorway, watching Ryder splash, so I didn’t answer.
Our routine went pretty smoothly, all things considered, as I let Kristi help him wash his hair and brush his teeth. I kept my distance as he changed into his pajamas and she tucked him in with a bedtime story. It was all so cozy, but did I dare let myself believe this was permanent? What would that reality even look like? Would she just break his little heart?
She faced me at the door as I let her out. “Look, Trace, I know this is hard on you, but I’m trying here, I really am. I need you to gimme a damn break.”
I stared down at her. Was she for real? She’d run away from us, from her own child, and hadn’t even bothered to call and check on him for seven fucking years. Did she honestly think all would be forgiven just because she decided to show up?
“See ya, Kristi.”
She looked like she wanted to say more, but thought better of it. On a huff, she spun and stomped away.
That was it.
I could not handle the uncertainty anymore.
I shut the door, pulled out my cell phone, and called Rachel. It was time to get this legal ball rolling.
As I laid in bed, exhausted and miserable, I realized I’d never called Tori back. I glanced at my clock. Quarter ‘til eleven. Probably too late . . . what the hell?
I grabbed my ce
ll and hit her number.
“Hello?” Her voice was gritty and sleepy, but it warmed me all over.
“Hey. Did I wake you?”
“No.” Were those tears in her voice?
I sat up straighter, instantly sorry I’d waited so long to call. “What’s wrong?”
“How’d it go with Kristi?” she countered.
My frown deepened. Why did I feel guilty? “Uh . . . okay, I guess.”
“Has she been spending a lot of time with you and Ryder?”
“Yes. But with Ryder. Not me.”
“You’re a package deal.”
“We are.” I threw off the covers and sat up. “What’s your point?”
She heaved a big breath and it wobbled out of her. She was crying. Damn it.
“Tori? I’m sorry I didn’t call you right back. I’ve been fielding Ryder’s questions and Kristi’s demands, all while trying to—”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
“My mom has cancer.”
My gaze snapped up to the far wall as I processed her words. “Cancer?”
“Yeah.” And through her tears, she told me everything. My girl’s heart was breaking and I’d missed it because of my own baggage.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered, feeling like the shittiest kind of boyfriend.
But that was the crux of the issue, wasn’t it? This was the reason I’d pushed away any kind of serious relationship since Ryder’s birth. He was my priority. He was the love of my life. How could I possibly take care of him on my own and still give a woman what she needed?
But what about what I needed?
That small, hopeful seed continued to grow in the back of my mind, no matter how I fought to suffocate it. Could I really avoid love until Ry was grown and gone? Even when it was staring me in the face?
Kristi made me doubt.
Tori gave me hope.
The only way around this issue was through it. For better or worse, even if I got muddy and bloody and it ripped my heart to shreds, I needed to wade into the waters of life again. Maybe for the first time.
“Come over.” The words were torn from my heart before I’d even registered their formation.