She swallowed. “A lump,” she repeated, “on my breast.” I closed my eyes. She took my hand. I stared at her. Was this for real? She was holding back tears. A wave of dizziness passed over me.
“What does this mean?” I asked numbly.
“I went to the emergency room, got it biopsied, and it’s cancer.” She said the words quickly and pointedly, like she had rehearsed them at least a dozen times in front of the mirror before truly saying them out loud, in the open, to her only daughter, who could be orphaned and alone if she ceased to exist. My breath grew shallow.
“No,” I said impulsively, shaking my head. “No, please no.” I willed her words to be false, a mistake.
“They think I’m gonna be okay,” she cried, gripping my hands in hers, “but I need a surgery to remove part of my breast. A very expensive surgery,” she said, sniffling.
I frowned. “How much?” I asked.
“20,000 dollars,” she said quietly. “And that doesn’t include the chemo I may need afterward.”
“What about insurance?” I asked.
She bit her lip, tears streaming down her face. “It only covers emergency room care. I couldn’t afford anything better for myself.”
I frowned. “Well, can’t we just get the insurance now?” I pleaded.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, baby,” she murmured. “Now that I’ve had the lumpectomy, they’ll consider the cancer a pre-existing condition and refuse to cover it.”
I sighed and looked around the room helplessly. Our dog, Truffles, absently chewed the corner of our leather couch, which spewed clumps of cotton. The TV was outdated and covered with grimy fingerprints. Dust mites piled in the corners. The ceiling was cracked. All of a sudden, everything looked broken. I felt grown up.
“Take my college money,” I said somberly.
My mom shook her head. “I can’t,” she said.
I looked at her. “You have to,” I urged.
She wiped her eyes. “There’s only a few thousand dollars in there, baby,” she murmured.
I squeezed her arm. “It’s better than nothing,” I said sternly.
I could not believe she was even considering turning down money at a time like this. She’s so freaking stubborn, like he whole thing with dad’s Rolex. There were countless times over the years I wanted to take her by the shoulders and scream, Swallow your pride and sell the damn thing! But then I was suddenly grateful we never sold it to pay my tuition, or put in my college fund, or buy a new car, because we needed it now, more than ever.
I gently put my hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “Mom,” I said quietly. “It’s time to sell dad’s watch.”
She flinched, narrowing her eyes to slits, and suddenly stood. “Absolutely not,” she said, padding off toward her room.
“Mom, seriously,” I urged, going after her. “This isn’t a joke!”
She whipped around to face me, angrier than I’d seen her in years. “Anais, I said no!” she shouted.
I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut. I started to cry hot, furious tears. I could understand not wanting to sell it to buy a new handbag, or jewelry, or even an awesome vacation. It would be hard to enjoy those things knowing it came from some shithead who left you broke with a baby. But this was her health we were talking about.
“I hope you’ll never have to understand,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks, “why I can do nothing with that thing but defy it.” She shook her head, biting her lip to hold back what I could only imagine was a barrage of sobs. She gathered the strength to look me in the eye. “Selling that watch means we needed him after all, do you understand that?”
I just stared at her silently. What was I supposed to say? She had principles, which I’d normally characterize as noble, but right now they just seemed reckless and incredibly stupid.
She inhaled sharply. “I will take more hours at the salon, I will cut back on our expenses, I will get the money, okay?”
I looked to my feet, gravely disappointed in her.
“We are not selling that watch,” she seethed.
I nodded reluctantly, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Okay,” I murmured.
I’d have to get the money some other way. I’d have to make KissnTell the fastest growing site in the history of the Internet.
“Just … take my college fund, okay?” I croaked.
My mom sighed. “Okay, baby,” she whispered.
“You can’t die, mom,” I cried. She glanced at me, wide-eyed, and watched tears slide down my cheeks for an instant before crumbling herself. “I wouldn’t be okay if you died,” I said.
She nodded, her jaw clenched, pulling me into a hug. “I love you so much,” she whispered, squeezing my back. I sobbed into her shoulder.
We sat there, crying and hugging and rocking back and forth for so long it seemed like time had stopped. When we finally released one another, the only person I really wanted to talk to was Vaughn. My mom rubbed my back lightly as I hoisted myself off the sofa. I went to check my Blackberry. It was now after noon. Austin had sent a sweet message.
Miss you already
I smiled for the first time that day. There were no messages or missed calls from Vaughn. I stared at the floor for a moment, blinking back tears that wouldn’t stop pouring out of my eyes, even though I could no longer feel anything. After the initial shock followed by a pang of fear and sadness, all subsequent emotions became foggy, like I was drugged or something.
I checked the site. The photos from the NYLON party were a huge hit, and in our site inbox we had two new requests to advertise: one from a publishing company for a book called Girly Bits, and one from STEVEN by Steve Madden. I replied to the PR girl at the publishing company, saying our rate was $1,500 per month and told Steve Madden it was $3,000. If I was going to save up for my mom’s surgery, I had to seriously up the ante. And Steve Madden could fucking afford it.
I tried to think this through. I could do this. I could handle it. I just needed a plan. In six days time, it was the first of the month. IconTops.com would owe us $1,500 for their second month of ad space. That plus these new potential payments from Girly Bits and STEVEN, plus my college fund is about $10,000—half of the cost of my mom’s initial surgery. The way I saw it, I had six days to bring a killer story to the site in the hopes of attracting more advertisers. After that, I had to maintain the site to keep the advertisers happy and hopefully, eventually make enough for chemo treatments and maybe even earn back my college fund.
I sat on the bed and tried calling Vaughn again. I couldn’t do this without her help. But there was still no answer. I dug my heel into the carpet. I wanted my birthday movie marathon now. I wanted to curl up on the couch with my mom, my best friend, my smelly dog, and a party-sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and just fade into oblivion. Even though Working Girl would just make my mom cry even more, and Pretty Woman would remind me of Vaughn (and how we may not even be friends anymore), and Carrie would dredge up bad memories, there was always Sixteen Candles. The movie that taught me that even after the shittiest day of your life, Jake Ryan could be waiting for you in the dark with a big-ass cake. The movie that made me feel like it was okay to hope.
I picked up my phone and started dialing. My knee shook as I listened to it ring. I willed a voice to appear on the other end. On the fourth ring, just as I was about to give up and collapse in tears on the floor, the line connected.
“Hey you,” it said. “I was wondering when you’d call.” Warmth spread through my chest. My heart pounded. I was suddenly filled with strength.
“Hi,” I sighed, tearing up. Austin. He was becoming more important to me every day.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You sound—”
“We need a big story. Like, major,” I sniffled.
“Anais,” he said sternly, “what’s wrong?”
“Everything,” I replied. I sobbed. I couldn’t help it. It poured out of me like it had been trapped there for days.
“Babe,” Austin murmured softly.
“I’m sorry,” I managed, taking deep breaths, trying to pull myself together. There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Hello?” I called, my pulse racing.
“I’m here,” he said.
“My mom has cancer,” I blurted.
“What?”
“My mom has cancer, and we have no money or insurance for the surgery, and I can’t reach Vaughn, I have no idea whether she’s even alive and I just—I just—” I started to cry again as Austin shushed me gently. I couldn’t believe how easily I could tell him something so life-changing, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I held my breath, hoping he’d stay with me, praying I hadn’t totally freaked him out.
“Your mom has cancer?” he asked.
“Mm-hm,” I replied lamely.
He took a breath. “If it’s okay with you—and your mom—I’d like to come over,” he said. I was dumbfounded. “We don’t have to do anything special,” he continued. “Maybe just hang out and watch TV?” I heard him sigh on the other end of the line. “I want to be with you, that’s all.”
“We need a major story,” I said quietly. “For the site. To attract advertisers and raise money for my mom’s surgery. We need to go scouting, maybe this afternoon—”
“We can go scouting tomorrow,” he urged. “I’ll pick you up after Film Club. Right now, you need to be with your mom and process this news. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be there, too.”
We were silent for a minute. I didn’t know if I could speak. I fell backward onto the bed.
“Austin?” I asked. “Yeah?”
“How do you feel about John Hughes?” I held my breath, biting my thumb. “Love him,” he said.
I smiled. “Then get your ass over here. We’re doing a marathon.” I heard him chuckle on the other end of the line. “See you soon.”
* * *
I heard Austin’s Forester pull into the drive about a half-hour later and raced into the living room. It’s a good thing I’d warned mom he was coming beforehand since she felt the need to change her clothes twice. This time I found her perched on the couch in navy leggings and an ivory cashmere duster. She stood, running her fingers through her hair and smoothing down her cardigan. I opened the door and there was Austin in a soft, white t-shirt and jeans, looking just like James Dean. Mom tried to play it cool, but I could tell she was secretly thrilled that I had finally connected with someone other than Vaughn and fictional characters in movies. She invited him in, asking him to take a seat on the couch. As he passed her, she mouthed, “Wow,” to me behind his back. I giggled. Before Austin could even take a seat, Truffles bounded over to him, snarling.
“Truffles,” my mom whined, skulking over to him. Austin chuckled, offering his hand to Truffles’s wet, suspicious nose. “I’m sorry about that,” my mom muttered, lifting Truffles off the floor.
Austin put up a hand. “No worries,” he said, smiling broadly.
“So!” my mom exclaimed, absently scratching Truffles’s neck, her gaze bouncing between us. “You guys just gonna hang out and watch TV?” she asked.
Austin looked to me. I shrugged, nodding a little. “We were thinking a John Hughes movie,” I said.
My mom smiled. “Okay,” she said, making her way toward her bedroom. “I’ll just be in the next room.”
Austin glanced at me quickly, frowning, and turned to my mom. “You should watch with us,” he said.
My mom stopped. She raised her eyebrows. “Oh,” she said, surprised. “That’s okay, I’ll just—”
“You should stay, mom,” I said, cutting her off. “Really.” Austin nodded.
My mom smiled, her face flushed. “Maybe just for a little while,” she said quietly, taking a seat on the end of our beat-up sectional. I put in Sixteen Candles.
“I love this one,” Austin said instantly.
“Me too,” my mom whispered. They exchanged warm smiles. It seemed like they were getting along well so far. My mom didn’t appear the slightest bit alarmed by our age difference. I guess she had bigger things to worry about now.
As the movie played, I couldn’t believe how comfortable I was with Austin in my house. He seemed comfortable, too. He’d kicked his Adidas off and perched his heels on our coffee table. Before doing so, he’d looked to my mom with raised eyebrows. She had said, “Make yourself at home, sweetheart.” He seemed grateful. We all looked to each other and smiled whenever something funny happened on screen. He felt like he belonged with us. He fit right into our little world. And he made me forget my mom’s illness and our financial problems, at least for the afternoon.
Minutes into Weird Science, part two of the John Hughes marathon, I could faintly hear the muffled sound of my phone vibrating on my desk in the next room. I scrambled to retrieve it. The word “VAUGHN” was emblazoned across the screen. Finally. It was 5:30. I hadn’t heard from her in eighteen and a half hours.
I went into the hall toward Austin and my mother, displaying my blaring Blackberry. “I’m just gonna get this in there,” I said, pointing to my bedroom. They nodded. I hustled to the door and closed it. “Are you alive?” I said breathlessly, answering the phone.
There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “I’m alive,” Vaughn replied sullenly. “What happened?” I demanded, the hurt seeping into my tone. “I’ve called and messaged like a million times!”
“I know, I know,” she started, apparently exhausted. “Stella and Ava, they wanted to have lunch. It was a whole thing. There’s so much going on, I don’t even know where to start. I finally had their driver take me home …” She trailed off.
I frowned. She didn’t sound like herself. She sounded dour, jaded. She sounded like them. I shook my head.
“Well, there’s a lot going on here, too,” I retorted, my voice cracking. I swallowed back tears. It seemed every time I had to bring up the C-word, the waterworks started. Like it couldn’t be helped.
“Come on,” she said, laughing in this ostentatious way. “What’s going on there? Lemme guess: you’re either doing homework, or watching DVDs with Pam, am I right?”
I clenched my jaw. Anger surged through me. I wanted to tell her about my mom just to hurt her. But I stopped myself. It wouldn’t be right. I could hear Vaughn shift uncomfortably on the other line.
“Okaaaay,” she said, “Well, are you gonna tell me your thing first, ‘cause, like, I—” “You,” I croaked, tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t want to tell her my mom had cancer now, like this, over the phone when she was acting so horrible.
Vaughn took a deep breath. “So, basically, like, Xander and I made out last night,” she said.
My eyes widened. A sharp pain flickered in my chest. “What?” I exclaimed. “How—what about Odette?” I exclaimed, stunned.
“He dumped her,” she retorted. “Right after we kissed. Obviously, he felt something.” There was a sharpness to her tone.
I shook my head. “I can’t believe this,” I murmured.
Vaughn sighed, annoyed. “I knew you would react like this,” she said quietly.
“Like what, Vaughn?” I said, fury spreading in my chest. “This is shocking!”
“What, you’re the only one who can have a boyfriend? Why can’t you just be happy for me?” she spat.
I couldn’t believe she said that. This was so not about that! It was about the fact that Vaughn was getting romantically involved with the biggest piece of shit on the planet, and my mom had cancer, and I somehow was supposed to deal with this?
“Because,” I seethed. “Yesterday, we hated him!”
There was a pause. I guess she couldn’t argue with that.
“He was nice last night,” she said weakly. “He’ll be nice to me now.”
“Now that you have sleepovers with the Shrew Crew instead of me?”
“Anais,” she breathed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve gone home with you, I know that. But—” She paused. I sat down, softening a little
. “I know they’re assholes, but they’re not as bad as you think.” I took a breath, ready to counter, but she cut me off. “They’re not,” she urged. “I can assure you, it’s better to be on their side than it is to be their enemy, even if you don’t really like them. You should have seen what they did to Odette,” she added.
I frowned. “What happened to Odette?” I asked, a little afraid of the response.
“They’re not friends with her anymore,” Vaughn replied, a little smug. “She was calling and calling, ‘cause she was sad Xander broke up with her and everything, and they refused to answer! Now, they’re, like, encouraging Xander to date me instead. I already got a text from Stella saying it’s a done deal,” she gushed.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“All this in a matter of hours?” I asked quietly.
“Uh-huh,” she chirped. She smacked her lips. “All I have to say is, tomorrow is going to be a very different day for the both of us.”
I looked out the window at the orange sun peeking between the branches of the craggy tree behind our house. I thought talking to Vaughn would make me feel better. Instead, I felt the urge to hang up. To drop the phone and flee into the living room, where Weird Science played quietly, where my mom and Austin sat waiting for me.
“So,” Vaughn said lightly. “What did you want to tell me?” I wiped some tears from my cheeks, straightening my tee. “Nothing,” I murmured sadly. “Nothing at all.”
21.
A NEW DAY
Vaughn
It was hard to believe I was back on the bus, the dreaded orange loser cruiser, after being chauffeured all over town in a premiere SUV only the day before. Anais had been acting strangely all morning, starting with her annoyingly cold messages. She was clearly pissed at me, and it clearly had something to do with the fact that Xander and I had hooked up, but I guess I didn’t get what I ever did to her. Seriously, why did she even care who I dated? I didn’t get my panties all in a bunch when she and Austin became attached at the hip. I just rolled with it. She was staring out the window in silence, which wasn’t exactly unusual behavior for Anais on the bus. But given that she’d barely said a word to me all morning, not even acknowledging my deft liquid eyeliner application and badass cat eyes, it was safe to interpret her attitude as “passive aggressive.”
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