Large storefront windows topped with blue awnings signalled she’d arrived. Breathe, Riley. She pulled open the door and hurried inside the modern space, passing by crisp, white lab coats and slow-moving people—patients, family members? Her wet boots squeaked to a halt on the shiny floors in front of a simple yet stylish white desk, topped with a flourish of silk flowers.
“I’m sorry, I’m late—”
“It’s okay, Riley. Take a seat.” The woman gestured to the area behind a large white wall punctuated with cut-out square shapes, each one home to a colorful vase or piece of blown glass. “Your mom’s here.”
“Thank you.” Riley nodded and stepped around the wall.
Rooting around in her purse, Maggie Hope sat alone in the waiting room on a sky-blue couch. A lush indoor garden of non-fragrant flowers defied the gray coldness lingering outdoors. Riley’s heart surged into her throat. It had been a week since she’d seen her mom, but it felt like an eternity. So much had happened during the past seven days, and the first person she always turned to with good or bad news was only a few steps away. Sometimes you just need your mom.
Riley rushed over, unzipping her parka. “Sorry, Mom! Class ran long.” She plunked down on the cushions, dropped her tote and backpack, and wrapped her arms around her favorite person in the world. Maggie, still cozy in her winter coat, smelled of vanilla and coffee, of comfort and happy memories. Riley sank in and exhaled a halting breath, hesitant to pull away and let go, hesitant to face what was coming.
“Remind me again—why are you going to that fancy college if that’s your best excuse? I thought you were more creative than that.” Chin resting on Riley’s shoulder, Maggie laughed, trying to dampen her daughter’s worry. “Mind you, my excuse isn’t any better—construction on Staten Island. I got here two minutes ago.” Maggie leaned back, her expressive brown eyes full of warmth. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be fine.” She squeezed Riley’s cold hand. “We’ll get through this together like always. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
Maggie smiled and ducked out from her coat’s hood. Not a wisp of an eyebrow or lock of silky brown hair graced her head.
A nurse stepped around the wall. “Maggie, we’re ready for you now. “
Ten
Maggie flinched in the infusion chair as the cold rush of saline coursed through her vein and up her arm. She smiled sheepishly. “You’d think I’d be used to this.”
“Wimp,” Riley joked. She had to make light of the situation. If she didn’t laugh…
“Your mom’s one tough cookie,” said Dominique, Maggie’s usual nurse, an older woman with a melodic Jamaican accent and a tidy bun the color of spun silver thread. She flipped a page of Maggie’s medical history on her clipboard, reading the need-to-know info aloud so a young nurse wearing pink scrubs and oversized glasses could learn and follow along. “Maggie was originally diagnosed with cervical cancer in 2012, then Stage 2A ovarian cancer four years later. Following surgery and treatment, both went into remission, but a third diagnosis was made last November, a recurrence of ovarian cancer—Stage 3C.”
“The chemo’s been tougher this time.” Riley settled in a chair beside her mom. “The fatigue and joint pain have been a lot worse.”
“But all this discomfort means the cancer cells are being destroyed.” Maggie yawned. “All for a good cause, right? I’ll be better before you know it, despite the hand numbness, chemo brain, and my itchy butt.”
“Especially the itchy butt.” Riley laughed.
“Did you celebrate your birthday?” Dominique turned to the young nurse. “Maggie’s birthday was a week ago, the eleventh.”
“At home with my girl.” Maggie winked at her daughter. “But we didn’t let cancer cramp our style. We traded our sweats for dresses, put on glittery makeup, did our hair—well, I say that, but I just tossed on a wig.”
“Good for you,” said Dominique, patting Maggie’s arm.
“That wig lasted all of five minutes,” said Riley.
“Too hot.” Maggie crinkled her nose. “And besides, bald is beautiful.”
“You’re lucky you have a nicely shaped head.” Riley looked over her shoulder at Dominique, who was jotting down notes. “I made pizza, salad, and cupcakes, but some birthday traditions had to be axed—raw cookie dough was on the no-go list.”
“Cancer’s such a killjoy.” Maggie laughed, holding her daughter’s hand. “But we were together—that’s all that counts.”
“So true.” Dominique smiled, unveiling her beautiful gap-toothed grin. “You’ve got a terrific attitude. Cancer picked the wrong woman.”
“Yep, third go-round, but my third and final time beating its butt.”
“Third time lucky,” said Riley.
“Third time lucky, you know it!” Maggie squeezed her daughter’s hand and let go.
Dominique checked the saline bag, ensuring the clear liquid was dispensing at the correct rate. “Your chemo cocktail should arrive in about twenty minutes, so sit back, relax, and we’ll get this party started soon, okay?”
“I’ll be here.” Maggie nodded, watching the nurses leave the treatment room. She reclined in the chair, turning to her daughter. “So, c’mon, spill. How’s Josh?”
“Good…” Riley’s phone vibrated in her lap, a text brightening the screen.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s Erika.” Riley’s eyes followed the rambling message.
Fuck! Erika never swore. Today sucks! Scott’s on injury reserve list = no road trip for him. Leia canceled our girls weekend = no Sat fun for us. Stanley peed on my new trousers, the dry cleaner’s closed and…
“Nothing important.” Riley left her phone on the rolling table and picked up a grape popsicle. “Josh was really busy. We didn’t spend a full day together until Thursday, so I read, went swimming. Friday was the semi-final. He scored the winner and my God, I screamed so much, I could barely talk, and then Saturday morning he was at the rink before I left for the airport.”
“MVP, huh? Josh did good.”
“He did really good.” Riley tore away the popsicle’s wrapper and handed the treat to her mother. Maggie usually developed debilitating sores in her mouth during treatments and the soothing ice helped keep them at bay.
“You know, honey, you didn’t have to rush back. You could’ve stayed for the final—”
“I wanted to be here. A week was too long to be away.” I’d drop everything for you, Mom.
“I know, but you’re either at school, interning, working, or with me. You need to see your friends, Riley, go to parties, be a college kid. You’re only young once—trust me.”
Here she goes again with the ‘You should have the true NYU experience!’ Riley had wanted to commute from home, but Maggie insisted she live near campus. “You make me sound like a bore. I still swim.”
“You better! It’s the only me time you have.” Maggie held the popsicle in her mouth for a few seconds. “I’d be fine here on my own. One of the volunteers would’ve driven me home. You and Josh have so little time together.”
“Yeah, well, that’s going to change…” She took a deep breath. “He proposed.”
Maggie almost choked on her popsicle. “He what?”
“He proposed Thursday night—”
“Riley—” Their words stepped on top of each other.
“Sorry I didn’t say anything before. I wanted to tell you in person.”
“And here I thought our traditional post-chemo donut was today’s highlight. So…” Maggie’s smiled cautiously as she clasped her daughter’s hand. “What did you say?”
“I said yes.” Riley looked at her hand wrapped in Maggie’s, her mother’s soft warmth comforting. “He proposed with a toy ring hidden in a package of Reese’s.”
“Oooh, smart—you can’t say no to peanut butter…”
“We were at Red Pepper, finishing our tacos, and he went outside to grab his phone from his truck. Next thing I know, my name’s bei
ng called and he’s down on one knee. The restaurant went completely silent. They even turned down the music so everyone could watch.”
“Well, he is a big deal in Grand Forks, right?” Maggie squeezed Riley’s hand.
“Yeah, fans stop him all the time, but thankfully no one did mid-proposal. He was so nervous.”
“Couldn’t have been easy with an audience.”
It wasn’t. Riley nodded. “He was holding the peanut butter cup packages and said, ‘Some might say I’m ‘nuts’ getting engaged at twenty-two, but I can’t think of a ‘butter’ way to say I love you. Will you marry me?’”
“Oh, Josh.” Maggie scrunched her eyes.
Laughing, Riley let go of her mom’s hand. “I know! It’s cheesy as hell, but it was like he reverted back to junior high Josh. Remember how small and geeky he was? Zero confidence, jokes so bad they made you groan, the only boy at school into competitive figure skating…”
“He certainly got picked on, but you were always there for him. I can’t count the number of times you were late for dinner, practicing wrist shots on his backyard rink.”
“Yeah, when we weren’t making volcanos for the science fair!” Riley smiled. “But now look at him: an NHL second-round draft pick! I bet some of his school bullies will ask for his autograph one day without realizing he was the scrawny figure skater they used to beat up.”
“It’s strange how life turns out, isn’t it?” Maggie returned the popsicle to her mouth.
“Yeah.” Riley nodded. “Josh says he wants to build a solid foundation for our future together. He wants to take care of me, which is lovely…” She sighed heavily, her eyes drifting to the floor.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” Maggie tried to read her daughter’s face.
“Part of me…I don’t know. I was thinking about Dad…”
“Oh, Riley—Josh is nothing like your dad.”
“But I can’t forget how he—”
“You don’t have to forget, but just remember, not every man takes off when times get tough.”
Yeah, some propose instead. With a nod, Riley’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “It’s the next step, right?”
“If you’re happy, sweetie. If you love him and want to spend your life with him…then hell yeah.” Maggie leaned forward, searching Riley’s eyes. “But if you’re not sure, it’s okay to say no. You’re only twenty-two—there’s no rush. I remember you seemed to be having doubts a few months ago, so don’t feel pressured to say yes if you’re not ready or it doesn’t feel right.”
“I know.” Riley swallowed heavily. There are so many reasons why I should’ve said no and one big reason why I had to say yes.
“If you’re worried saying yes to Josh means saying no to your career…”
Yeah, that’s one for the no column, sure. She nodded.
“Riley, you don’t have to choose between a job and Josh. There are TV stations in Saint Paul.”
“But I won’t be able to work toward directing or casting programs there. I don’t want just any TV job, Mom. I’ve spent four years at Tisch with the goal of getting an entry-level job in production. That’s been the plan since sophomore year, me and Piper going to LA together.”
“Well, that’s still an option. You could go with Piper this fall, test the waters and see if you get hired, and maybe Josh can ask for a trade to the LA Kings in a year or two so you can be together. Sometimes we have to wait a little bit for what we want most.” Maggie chewed the last piece of popsicle. “Do you remember your dad’s thirtieth birthday?”
“Maybe.” Riley squinted, not sure what was coming.
“You were three years old, my little shadow, sitting on a chair watching me make his cake—”
“Red velvet with fluffy white frosting?”
Maggie nodded. “That’s right! I explained the cake was for your dad’s birthday and we couldn’t eat it until he blew out his candles, but I said you could have a spoon of frosting when I was done icing the cake.”
“Ooh, my fave part of baking.”
“Your eyes grew three times their size when I gave you that spoon. You sat there licking away, frosting all over your face, happy as a clam. I turned my back for one minute, and you stood up on the chair and plunged face-first into that cake!”
“I was such a little pig!”
“You were adorable! But when I lifted you away, you cried. You saw cake and thought, Mine. I tried to explain that you can’t always have what you want when you want it.” Maggie discarded the popsicle stick on the table. “Maybe this is the same lesson…”
Riley nodded. I wish I could be patient…but more than that, I wish I didn’t feel trapped. I wish I could help pay Mom’s bills and get her the best treatment on my own, so I didn’t have to say yes to Josh.
“What did Piper and Erika say?”
Riley stood up. “I haven’t told them.” She picked up a jug of water from the table. “I wanted time to enjoy our news before everyone offers opinions on dates, dresses…” Her chest felt tight, her voice flat…lying to her mom—the worst. She poured some water into a paper cup and added an angled straw, which bobbed and pointed back at her like an accusing finger. I can’t tell her what Piper said…the doubts. Mom would start questioning, even more than she is now. She can’t find out the truth. She’ll make me call it off.
“Smart move. Everyone’s got an opinion.”
Riley handed her mom the cup. “I wanted to tell you first.”
Maggie softly smiled and took a sip. “So, where’s this ring, then?”
Riley winced. “The candy wrappers fell out of my tote on the bus…”
“You kept the wrappers? That’s my girl. Sickly sentimental…or maybe scary hoarder?”
“Mom! The ring wasn’t in the wrappers or my bag when I got home…I lost it.”
“Aww. But I doubt Josh expected you to wear it.”
“You’d be surprised. Wanna bet he’ll ask about it? He’s so excited, he’d tattoo ‘fiancée’ on my forehead if he could.” Riley chuckled nervously.
“Did you discuss a date?”
“Only that it won’t be this year.”
Maggie smiled and held Riley’s hand, both refusing to verbalize what they were thinking.
“Mom, if you need chemo this fall, I’ll delay the move—”
“Ah, that’s a big if, sweetheart. Don’t worry, everything will work out fine, you’ll see.”
I hope so. I’d do anything for you, Mom. Anything.
Dominique returned carrying several bags of clear fluids. “Okay, Maggie, got your usual. Anti-nausea and anxiety meds first, then the chemo drugs.” She hung the bags on the IV stand.
“I’ll get more popsicles.” Riley inhaled deeply and headed to the kitchenette.
“Whoops!” Riley’s boots kicked something across the tiled entranceway of Maggie’s Staten Island apartment. She peered over the groceries in her arms and leaned her shoulder into the door, keeping it open for her mom. Several pieces of mail, now scarred with dirty tread marks from Riley’s winter footwear, fanned out on the floor. FINAL NOTICE in red block letters screeched across one business-size envelope; another sneered OVERDUE. A few more envelopes made up the scattered mess, but they were face down and Riley couldn’t tell who they were from without stooping down. “Mom, I worked a double shift yesterday. I can—”
“No, you have rent to pay. I’m just a little late in my payments, no need to worry.” Maggie stepped out of her boots, hung up her coat, and walked into her pokey kitchen.
Riley followed, leaving the single bag of groceries on the counter.
“I know you’re living on cereal and apples.” Reaching into the bag, a quick laugh left Maggie’s lips. “I’ll whip together a green salad, chicken fingers, those smiley face potato things you love, and you can tell me more about North Dakota. Those winds are picking up outside—I don’t want you catching the ferry too late.”
Riley returned to the entranceway and kneeled down, picking up an envelope—an
insurance letter, probably demanding a deductible before they’d cover the cost of treatment. She picked up another—a heating bill. Even with her coat on, the chill of Maggie’s apartment made Riley shiver. “But Mom—”
“No! Riley…please. I want to celebrate your good news with a home-cooked meal before the nausea kicks in. Just let me be your mom tonight, okay?”
“Okay.” Riley stood up, ready to help any way she could.
Eleven
A week and a half later
Late for class due to Casey’s insanely complex Starbucks order, Riley tilted hood-first into a bone-chilling gale, careful not to wipe out on icy Astor Place. “I don’t think you should worry, Case. People will show! Tribeca is always sold out and your documentary’s fantastic. I cried twice!”
“Yeah, but you’ve volunteered at a dog shelter for years—you get it.” The snowy gust roared with evil intent, swooping down between the buildings, sending discarded coffee cups airborne and forcing Casey’s gloved hand on a rescue mission, saving his flat cap—a gift Piper brought back from London the previous year—before it blew away. “But some festival goers might be all, ‘No-kill animal shelters are SO five years ago.’ Documentary lovers can be jaded. I should know—I am one!”
“But Tribeca wouldn’t have accepted it if it wasn’t good or important.” Riley sniffed behind her scarf. “It gave me goose bumps. You can tell you put your heart into it.”
“And many tears and sleepless nights.” Casey sighed. “If it raises awareness and saves even one dog, I’ll be happy.”
“I bet it’ll save tons of dogs.”
Casey smiled and leaned into the wind, employing a death grip on his venti quad, no whip, coconut milk, extra hot mocha with caramel drizzle, extra vanilla syrup, and dark chocolate curls. He regularly skipped meals to feed his caffeine addiction. “Hope so. God, it’s going to be a long month.”
Until The Last Star Fades Page 6