No Regrets

by Joy Argento

  Did I still love her? Absolutely. But the feeling of love felt watered down, drowned out by this killer disease.

  I picked up the folder the doctor had given me and thumbed through it. I looked through a few pages. It was all so overwhelming. I sent the folder flying across the room. It hit the wall and papers scattered everywhere. This wasn’t fair. What the fuck kind of cruel sense of humor did the Universe have? At this moment, I could have had it all. I could have had Beth, my children, my business. But I was going to lose everything.

  “What the fuck?” I screamed.

  My door opened and Beth walked in. “That’s a good question.” She stepped over the papers littering the floor. “I was going to ask you how you’re doing. But it doesn’t look like you’re doing too good.”

  She sat on the couch next to me and took my hands. “Look at me,” she said.

  It took several long seconds for me to comply. Two weeks ago, I would have given almost anything to look into those beautiful eyes. Why was it so hard now?

  She leaned her forehead against mine for a minute.

  “I’m here for you. Whether you want me here or not. So stop acting like an ass. Can you do that for me?”

  “I can’t believe you would say that to a sick person,” I said but couldn’t help but smile.

  “I can say that to the person I love.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear her say that. I didn’t want her to stop loving me, but it hurt to know her love would be left hanging after I died.

  “You have some decisions to make. I see you at least picked up the folder.” She waved her hand toward the papers littering the floor. “Did you actually look at them?”

  “A few.”

  “Did you make any decisions?”

  I shook my head. I had barely taken in what was on the pages.

  “Jodi. You have to do this. I’ll help you any way I can. But you’re the one who has to make the final decisions here.”

  She rubbed my back. Her hand was soft and warm, and at first, I resented the fact that it was a comfort to me. Slowly, I let the love she felt seep through her fingers and into me. I let out an audible sigh.

  “That’s better,” she said. “Talk to me. I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. What’s going through your head?”

  Her words struck a chord with me. I wasn’t willing to give her my heart, but I was willing to let her in on some truths. “I watched my mother die from this same disease. Literally watched her die a little each day.”

  “You told me what she died of, but you didn’t share any of the details with me. Do you think you can tell me about it now?”

  I closed my eyes as the images of her in her last days floated through my mind. “The kids and I went to Denver as soon as she was diagnosed. Stage four pancreatic cancer. For the most part, she was herself. She kept her sense of humor, her faith in God, her love for her family.” I took a deep breath before continuing. It felt both good and frightening to be sharing it with Beth. She would soon know the truth about the horrors of this disease. “We stayed about a week but had to get back because the kids had school.”

  I remembered every detail as if it had just happened. My mother was pale and thin. It was almost frightening to look at her. She lasted almost four months to the day from diagnosis to death. “I returned without the kids and spent the last two weeks of her life with her. She and my dad had decided to do home hospice. Which actually meant we did the majority of caring for her.”

  Beth grabbed some tissues from the box on the end table by the couch and handed them to me. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I swiped at them. I had sobbed for weeks after my mother’s death. I was surprised I had more tears to shed.

  “Anyway, death isn’t pretty. It’s not like you see in the movies. I watched my mother waste away as the cancer invaded her other organs and eventually her bones. I wasn’t sure at times if she was clinging to life or reaching for the release that only death can bring. It was like she could graze it with her fingertips only to find it was still beyond her grasp. At the end, she was in a morphine haze. It was the only thing that could control her pain.”

  “Jodi, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  “The hardest part was watching my dad go through it. She was the love of his life and he lost her.” I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. “He was a trooper though. Kept her clean and hand-fed her broth and such when she got too weak to eat. I took the night shift and slept in a chair by her bed every night for two weeks. The one night I decided to sleep in an actual bed in the guest room is the night she died.”

  “You’re not blaming yourself in any way are you?”

  I let out a puff of air. I knew when I decided not to spend the night in that room I had to be prepared for that to happen. I’d heard enough stories about people holding on until a loved one left the vicinity. I actually wondered if I had prolonged my mother’s suffering by staying so close by. “No. I’m not. But the whole thing was devastating to watch.”

  It is an interesting and horrific thing to watch the life leak out of a person. Especially a person your soul was wrapped around. The tangle of lines that connected us was coming unjumbled as my mother slipped into her own destiny without us.

  “I can only imagine. Sometimes I think I was lucky losing my father suddenly in a car accident so I didn’t have to see him suffer.”

  That was the exact reason I wouldn’t be letting Beth too deeply back into my life. I couldn’t let her see me waste away and die in front of her.

  “So…” she said, getting to her feet. “Let’s go over these papers and at least educate ourselves on the options.” She began to pick the papers up from the floor and put them back in some kind of order.

  Okay, I would let her help me with this. But I would watch carefully for the right time to let her go and send her out of my life. It would hurt her, I knew. But it wouldn’t hurt her nearly as much as watching me die.

  Beth

  I glanced over at Jodi as I retrieved the scattered papers. Her being with Claire had kept us apart. Me marrying Al had done the same thing, as well as an unhealthy dose of fear on my part. I’d be damned if I’d let her illness do the same thing now.

  She was in shock. I knew that. Having the same disease that killed your mother had to be devastating. I was determined to get her through this.

  With the stack of papers in somewhat order, I sat next to Jodi. We went through each page one by one. We discussed the options and I made sure Jodi understood everything. She had a lot of knowledge about the cancer itself, but not the treatments. Her mother’s cancer was so far advanced when it was discovered that treatments weren’t really an option.

  “Do you think you should get a second opinion?” I asked her.

  “No. Maybe. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a good idea.”

  “I don’t know.”

  I shook my head. “Yes, no, I don’t know.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  I wrapped my arms around her. I wasn’t sure if she was going to let me, but she did. “Oh, honey, no. I’m just trying to help.” She was warm in my arms. I longed to kiss her, but I settled for holding her tight.

  I held on as long as she would allow it. After a couple of minutes, she shook me off. “I don’t want chemo,” she said.

  “What do you want?”

  “I don’t think a second opinion is necessary. The doctor said the tumor is only in the pancreases. He said surgery would be necessary, even though it’s a pretty complicated procedure. I’m not sure after that.”

  “Actually, you need to figure out what to do first.” I knew she was in a fog when we talked to the oncologist. But there were key things she seemed to have missed. I explained the treatments that he recommended to start with to make surgery more successful. Chemo and radiation were usually the first steps. We would have to check out the trials to see if there was an alternative.

  She seemed to take it all in. “I definitely
want to learn more about the trials.”

  I thumbed through the papers on my lap and pulled out the sheets I was searching for. “There are phone numbers for the different trials to get more information. We would have to see what you qualify for. Not all of them are for stage one. Have you told your kids, yet?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t told anyone but you.”

  I was touched that she trusted me with the truth but knew she needed to let her family know. “When do you plan on telling them?”

  “I don’t want them to worry. I’m going to wait until I decide on a definite treatment option and everything is in place.”

  “You aren’t going to save them from worrying. They love you. Of course, they are going to worry.” I should know. I was in love with her and I was very worried. But I refused to let her see that. I vowed to show her nothing but hope and support—and whatever amount of love she would accept.

  Jodi

  Chemo, radiation, drugs, surgery, probably more drugs. That was the life I was expecting to have before I died—leaving my children without a mother—like mine had left me.

  Beth was helping me every step of the way, and I really appreciated it. But I was very aware that I needed to keep my emotional distance and make sure she kept hers. Of course, that was really hard to gauge. She always seemed to be touching me—hugs, a hand on my back, a kiss on the cheek. I didn’t make her stop, but I was always careful not to let it go past that.

  I stared at the phone in my hand. I had already called the base Andrew was stationed at to get a message to him. He was out on maneuvers and they weren’t allowed to have their cell phones with them. I’m sure he would call when he had a chance. Not the best place to be when you find out your mother is sick.

  I opened my contacts on my phone and pressed my ex-husband’s name. My heart thumped heavy in my chest as I waited for him to answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Sammy?”

  “Hi, Jodi, are you calling for Annie?”

  “Um, no. I need to talk to you first.” I drummed my fingers on the table. “She isn’t within earshot, is she?”

  “No. She’s out back. What’s up. You okay?”

  “That’s what I’m calling about. I…um…I wasn’t feeling well and went to the doctor.” I knew I was dragging this out more than it had to be, but I just couldn’t seem to string a sentence together.

  “Okay,” he said tentatively.

  “Turns out I have pancreatic cancer.”

  Silence.

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah. I’m here. I’m just at a loss for words. I mean, how bad?”

  “Stage one.”

  “Okay, well… Wow. But one is the best possible, right?” He didn’t seem to be too successful with talking at the moment either.

  “I guess if you’re gonna get a life-threatening cancer, yeah, stage one is the best.”

  “What did the doctors say? How serious is this?”

  I shook my head. Pretty fucking serious. “Very.”

  “What do you want me to do? Do you need me to come there? Bring Annie?”

  “No,” I said a little more sternly than I had intended to. “I mean, at some point yes. I’ll need to see Annie, but not yet. I’m not sure when. I don’t want her here at the end. I don’t want her seeing me like that.”

  “The end?”

  My turn to be silent.

  “Jodi, it’s that bad? That’s what they told you?”

  “They didn’t have to tell me. It’s what killed my mother. I know how bad this can be.”

  “So, you don’t really know.” His statement pissed me off. My first instinct was to argue, but I knew that would be counterproductive. I chose to ignore it.

  “Do you think we should tell Annie? Or wait?”

  Beth thought she should know. My thought was the earlier she found out, the longer she would be scared and sad. I thought one more opinion was in order.

  “When do your treatments start?”

  “A week from yesterday. I’m starting a clinical trial to try to shrink the tumor.” I explained that if that went well, we went to radiation, followed by surgery.

  “I think we should wait to see how you respond to treatment. No need to worry her. You will probably come out of this fine. Let’s wait a little while.”

  “My only concern is that I’ll look like hell when she does see me. I don’t want her to have that lasting image.” I still saw my mother’s withered body from her last days on this earth when I closed my eyes.

  “You could never look like hell,” he said. I know he was trying to lighten the mood, but his attempt was in vain.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Tell me what you want to do.”

  “Maybe you’re right. We should wait. Let’s see what happens with round one. Then we can decide on the timing.” I know Beth would be disappointed with my decision. But that’s what it ultimately was—my decision.

  “Sounds like a plan. Do you want me to call her in so you can talk to her?”

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat.

  “Hi, Mom,” my daughter said a minute later. I could hear the excitement in her voice. She was no longer my little girl. She was a full-fledged teenager, with her whole life ahead of her. Tears sprung to my eyes at the thought of all I would miss.

  “Hey, baby.” I worked to keep my voice steady. “How are you doing?”

  “Good. Dad said I could get a puppy.” It had broken her heart when Tess died last year. I just hadn’t had the time or energy for housebreaking and all the training that went into a new puppy. The truth was my heart hadn’t been ready to let a new little creature into it.

  “That’s great. How does Barbara feel about it?” Sam had met and married Barbara a little over a year after we divorced. I’d met her on several occasions and always found her warm and pleasant. I could have easily been very insecure around her. She seemed to have it all, charm, intelligence, and true beauty. And now she had my ex-husband and daughter. Annie adored her and she treated Annie like she was her own. I was good with that. I figured the more people who loved my kids, the better off my kids would be. At times, okay, most of the time, I was jealous of the time she got to spend with Annie. But I was grateful for her presence in my daughter’s life.

  My intention with letting Annie go back to Denver after summer break was just to give myself time to get my life, post Claire, together so I could bring her home. I worked overtime on my business, drumming up new clients and getting jobs done in a very timely manner. I had been setting money aside for a down payment on a house. Now I would have to use that money to live on—until I wasn’t alive anymore. I put my business on hold for the time being but had a call in to a broker who specialized in selling established businesses. I had used a similar service to sell my business when we left Denver. So far, he didn’t have any hits.

  “She said I had to be responsible for him. She got me a book on dog training. We’re going tomorrow to look at a rescue place.”

  “That’s great, honey. I’m so glad.”

  She went on to fill me in on her life in Denver, her school, and friends. I cried for a half hour after we hung up. How was I ever going to do this?

  Beth

  “How are you doing, honey?” my mom asked. “How’s it going living with Maddie again?”

  I cut several more slices of cheese and lined them up on the plate next to the neatly laid out crackers. “So far so good. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jodi lately, helping her with all the medical stuff. I’m not home much.”

  “My prayer group has been praying for her since you told me about her cancer.”

  That word still felt like a knife to my heart. “I appreciate it, Mom.” I brought the plate of cheese and crackers and added it to the other plates on the dining room table.

  We had hoped the rain would let up long enough to use the grill on the back deck for the hamburgers. Roger, Jen’s husband, usually did the grilling when we had a family get-togeth
er, but it was his birthday we were celebrating, so I didn’t want to put that burden on him.

  “Jodi is so lucky to have you helping her.” My mother took the plastic cover off the top of the container and placed a four and a two candle on the top of the cake.

  I toyed with the idea of telling her my feelings for Jodi but decided against it. If it didn’t go well I didn’t want any tension to ruin the day for Roger and Jen. She knew Jodi was gay, Maddie had mentioned it casually once, not thinking it was a big deal. It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t want it to be a big deal. But my mom had been surprised that I would have a friend “like that.”

  “Like what?” I had asked her.

  “You know. A homosexual.”

  “Mom, she’s a regular person. And one of the best people I know.”

  Up until the time I got married to Al, Jodi had been in my life a lot. My mom had several opportunities to spend time with her and had grown to like her and care about her. If it made any difference that Jodi was gay, she never mentioned it again.

  “I’m here.” Maddie came in carrying a bag of potato chips. “Where do you want these?” she asked my mother.

  “There’s a bowl on the dining room table just waiting for them.”

  “Hi, Mom.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek as she passed. “How’s Jodi doing?” I appreciated the fact that she cared. “I thought she might come today.”

  “I asked her. She wasn’t up for it.” I filled her in on the plans for treatment.

  I wished Jodi was there with us. I knew she wasn’t up for celebrating and didn’t want to bring the party down. Down was the word to describe Jodi lately. She was so depressed and sure she was going to die. I had inquired about an antidepressant, but it wasn’t advised with the medicine in the clinical trial she was starting in a couple of days.