The door swings open and my mother comes in the back door. In her hands she holds a tray of coffees and a bag. My father isn’t with her. She’s dressed like she’s going to a cocktail party, in a short red dress, and her high heeled peep toes click on the hardwood floor as she makes her way to us.
Doesn’t she know it’s cold outside? It’s almost October.
She bends quickly and kisses the side of my head before setting down her stuff on the coffee table. She’s pale, but her make up is perfect, as usual.
Nan holds out her arms and mom gives her a quick hug. Mom isn’t one for physical attention, one thing she didn’t get from Nan. Nan likes to hug for inappropriate amounts of time, not that I mind. But other people do.
“Hey, Mom. Sweetie.” My mom looks from Nan to me. I smile and go back to knitting.
“So nice of you to visit, Mitts.” Nan says to my mom and she blushes. I still don’t know why Nan calls her Mitts, but Mom and I never talk and Nan says it’s Mom’s story to tell.
“How are you feeling? Are you ready? Are you comfortable? It’s so cold in here. I’m going to turn up the heat.”
Nan takes hold of Mom’s wrist and pats her hand.
“Ready for what?” I ask, watching them intently. They both look at me then back at each other. Exchanging a glance of secrecy.
“I’m fine, dear. Really. And I am ready.”
“Ready for what?” I ask again.
“You should really tell her,” Mom says with a sadness in her eyes I’ve never seen before.
Those words set off a massive string of worst case scenario visions in my head. I block out everything and the thoughts tumble so fast I don’t even realize I’ve stopped breathing. I feel warm hands on my face and Nan’s nose against mine. I find her eyes with mine and suck in a ragged gulp of air so fast I start to cough.
Mom stands over Nan’s shoulder her face fixed in defiance.
“This is why I want her back on medication. This method of yours isn’t working,”she says. That has my attention. I’d rather die than take that stuff again. It makes me feel like I’m dead, a constant state of I-couldn’t-care-less.
“No you’re not, she’s doing very well. Give it time, Mitts.”
Like a curtain slides open behind my eyes, I’m suddenly focused.
“Tell me what, Nan? What’s wrong?” I demand.
Nan slides back down to the end of the couch and I see my mother roll her eyes behind her and she plops down on the armchair.
“You baby her. She needs to toughen up. Stop treating her like a child.” Mom hisses at her.
Nan frowns at mom. “She is a child.”
I disagree with both of them, so I have no idea what to do with the attitude that’s boiling inside of me. I want to tell them both off. I’ve never wanted to tell off Nan before.
Nan grips my hands and I focus on her, blocking out Mom.
“I have Cancer, darling. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I wanted to be certain.”
She has concern in her eyes as she watches me, as if she’s preparing to have to pick me up off the floor. I’m confused.
Cancer. No one I know has ever had cancer.
“What kind of cancer?”
“My lungs. I will be starting treatment next week.” She squeezes my hand harder.
My head is swimming.
“But what if you–” I can’t say it. The treatment might not work. She’ll get sick. Really sick.
Nan pulls me to her just as the first tears well in my eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you keep this from me? You could–What if you–” I sob into her chest.
“Die?” she finishes for me and I cry harder.
How can she do this to me? Doesn’t she know how much I need her?
“It’s not that definitive, darling. Yes, I might not be able to survive but the doctor thinks we caught it at a decent time. I’m healthy, and I’m old, but not that old. There’s also a chance I might live,” Nan coos, running her hand through my hair. She’s trying to make it sound better. I push back so I can see her through my tears. She is wearing a small smile but it’s pasted on. Mom has moved to sit beside me and rubs my back lightly. Mom never touches me like this. It has to be serious.
I suddenly want the pills again. Then I wouldn’t feel this. My mind tumbles with thoughts and Nan dies in every one of my scenarios. My brain isn’t wired for happy. I can’t control it anymore.
“But,” is all I manage before the breakdown happens. The next sound that comes from my throat is a sound that would embarrass me on any other day. The tears flow freely and I cling to my grandmother as if she were already dead. I vaguely feel my mother pat my back one last time and mutter to Nan that it was probably a mistake to tell me.
It takes me a long time to calm down. I don’t have a panic attack though, I’m too broken to panic.
“Do you want to talk about it? Do you want to know about the treatments?” Nan asks after a long and painful silence where I just stare at my hands. My hat is soaked in tears. I’ll have to make another one.
I shake my head. How is she so calm about this? How can she just sit there and talk about it like it’s no big deal?
I stand and shove my things into my bag a little more forcefully than necessary. Waves of emotion are overtaking my body. Drowning me in fear, sorrow, anger, fear, sorrow, anger. I can’t feel one long enough to grab hold of it. All I can do is try to stay above it, try to breathe.
I throw the bag over my shoulder and leave the room. For the first time in my life I leave Nan without saying goodbye. For the first time in my life I’m angry with her.
~
My body’s numb against the cold air as I pedal my bike. When I stop I’m not at my house. I can’t remember when I decided to change the route. I throw my bike down on the small front lawn and don’t even bother walking on the path. I don’t even bother walking at all. I run, sliding to a stop just in front of the door.
Why am I here?
My finger presses the door bell.
Because I have no where else to go.
I stand cold and shaking on the front step.
He opens the door. As soon as I see him a fresh river of tears bubbles up behind my eyelids and spills down my cheeks.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” I sob as Lachlan stares wide-eyed. “I have no one.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lachlan
I stumble backwards as Talia’s body crashes into mine. I have to support her weight as well as my own. My arms instinctively wrap around her but my brain has stalled. Ten seconds ago I was watching TV, and now I’m holding a sobbing girl. A girl I’ve been avoiding for her own protection. A girl who’s better off without me, but seems to always end up in my arms anyway.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” I reach up and entwine my fingers in her hair. This is not a natural movement for me, but with Talia it feels right, safe. She pulls back.
Her eyes are huge, red, and puffy. She can’t talk between the hiccups, or if she is talking I don’t pick up a single word.
I pull her close and step back into the house so I can shut the door. She lets me guide her to the living room and lower her onto the couch. She practically sits on top of me, her arms still like a vice around my neck.
I’m trying to piece things together but I’ve never understood crying girls. She could have bumped her elbow or someone could have died. They react the same way to everything.
I feel her tears soak through my T-shirt and I’m momentarily grossed out that she’s probably snotted all over me. I sit still for what seems like hours, stealing glances over my shoulder at the TV. I can’t do anything until she tells me what’s wrong. Finally her breathing slows and I risk asking her again.
“Talia,” I start cautiously. “What happened?”
She pulls back sharply and the tears fill her eyes again. Her skin is soaking wet and she wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweater.
“She h
as cancer. She has–” The words get stuck in her throat and come out as a gurgle. “How could she not tell me? She’s, she’s gunna die, Lachlan.”
My chest constricts painfully. I can’t imagine. I thought back to when Gram fell in the shower and how scared I was. I reach for her and she sobs again.
“She’s gunna die, and then I really will have no one.”
She flings her arms around me again and this time I scoop her up onto my lap and press her as tight as I can into me. I burrow my face into her hair and rub her back.
I can’t fix this, I can’t help her and I ache for her. I understand her, but people hate being told that. People survive Cancer all the time, too. I already know not to say that either. I wish I had something to say as she nuzzles closer in my neck, her tears soaking my collar. But words aren’t really my thing.
All I can think of is to hold on tighter, to try and absorb her pain. I know it’s impossible, but I want to try.
I start to hum Gram’s song. It worked before. Maybe it’ll work now.
~
I gently shake Talia’s shoulder. She cried herself to sleep on my lap. Now she’s snoring on the couch, completely plugged up from leaking every ounce of moisture from her body. She stirs lightly and turns her head to look at me. A smile plays on her lips, but there’s sadness in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Lachlan. I shouldn’t have come. I’m so sorry.”
She tries to sit up but I press my hand against her shoulder and shush her.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Hat Girl. I love crying girls showing up on my doorstep. It’s super sexy.” I try to lighten the mood by pulling half my mouth up into the arrogant smile I know she hates.
“Oh, God.” She covers her face with her hands and groans. “I bet I look hideous.”
I grab her wrists and pull them from her face.
“I’m not going to respond to that. I feel like I’ll get in trouble no matter what I say.”
She smiles wider and turns her head, hiding it in the pillow.
I let her go and stand.
“I have to go get Gram from her card game.”
Talia sits up quickly and then clutches her head and lays back down.
“You’re welcome to stay here. Rest. I put some headache pills and water on the coffee table.”
“I should go.” She tries to get up again.
“Really, Talia. Stay, please. I want you to.”
Her mouth pulls up at the corners again. I’m beginning to look forward to that smile. Waiting for it to appear.
~
I don’t tell Gram Talia’s at the house. When we get home and there’s a sleeping girl on the couch, her eyebrows rise but she doesn’t say anything. Gram’s outspoken but she’s also a behind the scenes gal. She doesn’t like public disturbances.
“It’s Talia, Gram. She got some bad news about her grandmother. She came to see you.” I add the last part in because I don’t want Gram to know she had straddled me on the couch and soaked me with tears because she had no one else. Gram’s understanding but I’m ‘still in high school’ and she doesn’t like boy-girl-funny-business, as she calls it, in her house. A rule I’ve always respected, mostly because Violet preferred gas station bathrooms, park benches, back alleys and anywhere else we could have been caught by actual authorities.
Gram clutches her hands together and quickly makes her way to the couch. Talia lifts her arm off her face and yawns, her shirt has ridden up and a strip of milky skin that stretches over her hipbone catches my eye. She sits up without a word and wraps her arms around Gram who strokes her back. I lean against the wall trying to think of when such little skin could cause such a stir within me.
~
“So when does she start treatment?” Gram asks while blowing on her tea.
I look between them, not saying anything, just watching. Gram gave Talia some knitting needles and she’s already half done a scarf. It seems to calm her down. I smile to myself. She cares too much about everything and I don’t care enough.
“Next week,” Talia says. “I feel so bad Georgina. I just left. Nan’s sick and I’m worried about my own feelings. How awful is that?”
Tears fill her eyes again, and I’m just about to lean over but Gram beats me to it. She clutches Talia’s knee with her arthritic hand, which makes Talia smile.
“Florence understands dear. It’s not awful. You love her very much, your feelings are very valid.”
Gram leans back and continues to blow on her tea. We sit in silence for a while before Gram stands and slaps her thighs.
“Well this old lady has to take her buns to bed,” she says. “Lachlan, you won’t stay up too late? You have school in the morning.” It’s not as much of a question as it sounds so I just nod.
Talia stands to hug Gram then turns to me.
“I should go. My parents are probably worried about me.”
I swear she rolls her eyes when she says it, but they are so red and puffy I might be seeing things.
“I’ll walk you out.” I stand and stretch quickly before placing my hand on her shoulder and guiding her to the door. She is so fragile, I think.
With Talia I am in completely new territory. She’s completely opposite of what I’m used to.
~
We stand on the porch and Talia says for the thousandth time that she would rather ride her bike than have me drive her.
“It’s not a big deal, your bike would fit in the Granny wagon.”
Talia laughs and I beam. So lame. She is going to turn me into one of those guys.
She puts her hands on my upper arms and cocks her head to one side.
“I’m fine, Lachlan. Really. Thank you. For the offer and…for everything else.”
She casts her eyes down to her sneakers and drops her hands. I reach out and cup the back of her neck with one hand and push her bangs off her forehead with the other. I pull her in and kiss her right on her hair line. Vanilla and almonds with a hint of tears. I squeeze her into my chest and she holds onto my waist. I kiss her forehead again and slide her away from me. It’s more of a friend gesture, but if I kiss her how I really want too... Why do I want to kiss her this bad?
“Take care of yourself, Hat Girl. You’re stronger than you think.”
She smiles and runs her fingers down my arm, the one with the scars. This doesn’t feel like a friend gesture, but I’m probably reading into it.
“So are you.”
She turns and leaves. Even when she’s out of sight I still stand on the porch with my arm tingling.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Talia
It’s the first weekend in October and the day I have to submit my work for jurying. It’s also Nan’s first treatment. I’ve been avoiding everyone. Not unusual for me. My mom, Nan, Georgina. I even missed the last Knitting club meeting. I’ve especially been avoiding Lachlan.
Did I say avoid? I mean I run away every time I see him but he texts me constantly and I always text back. I can’t help myself. I want to be friends with him. I feel calm and comfortable around him now, which makes me uncomfortable. That doesn’t even make sense.
Want me to come with u?
I stare at my phone too much now. I’m becoming one of those girls. I don’t want to talk to him, but I don’t want to not talk to him.
I sigh and text back.
Nah, I should go alone. I don’t want you covered in my snot again. Lol
I blush and shove the phone into my bag. It beeps almost immediately and I snatch it up. Yup. Totally becoming one of those girls.
But there’s nothing I like more than being covered in your snot. C U 2nite @ the shelter? Shitty...
My heart jumps. Volunteering. I forgot.
I start to text back. I rewrite the text so many times I’m sick of myself. I used to gag when Janna would ask me what she should say to a guy.
“Say whatever you want,” I would always reply. My stomach drops and churns a few times. I wonder who coached her through hooking up with
Deacon. I miss her but I’m angry with her. It’s a weird space to be in.
I toss the phone back into the bag and tighten the scarf around my neck. The air is cold but the sun is warm. Leaves crunch under my bike tire and I wonder when I’ll have to give up the bike for good and go back to bussing it.
I swing my leg over the bar and push forward in the direction of the hospital. I haven’t apologized to Nan yet. I have to. I have to be there for her.
~
She’s already hooked up to a machine when I get to the hospital.
I pull up a chair and kiss her on the forehead. The nurse squints at me and I smile. I’ve already done a lot of begging to be in this room and don’t want to mess it up.
“Nan, I just wanted to say,” I start, pulling my chair closer. Nan raises her hand and stops me.
“It’s fine, darling. I forget sometimes that you don’t see death the same way I do.”
My heart stops at the word death. What does she mean see it the same way? Death is death.
I start to form the question but Nan starts talking.
“I’ve lost all four of my grandparents, both my parents and my husband. I won’t say I’m used to it, but I will say I understand it. I love you very much but your mother is right. You need to be aware, you need to be strong and I, unfortunately, have spent too much time protecting you and not enough preparing you.”
I’m at a loss. My first instinct is to argue with her. Seeing her sitting in that chair attached to a tube that’s feeding chemicals into her blood, I can’t bring myself to argue.
Instead, I pull out the white hat I made for the jury. I had to start over since I cried all over the last one and then destroyed it in a mild outburst I had after getting back from Lachlan’s and having my mother ground me. The first time that I needed to go out and she gets mad at me for it. I’ve just added it to the list of her strange behaviour. Spending ridiculous amounts of time in the bathroom, staring at me but refusing to say anything and then getting really, really mad about something that should have been understandable. I almost wish she’d go back to avoiding me.
The new white hat has both red and green cables and I pinned a piece of holly on the side. It’s pretty. Christmasy. Snowy. I knew Nan would love it. I still prefer the skull.
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