It will take the stars aligning and the grace of God to even get this stupid idea off the ground. Stranger things have happened, of course. But even if it does, how do I know I can even perform at that level?
I throw the bottle against the back of my locker. It drops onto the floor, spilling liquid everywhere.
CREW
It’s strange having clean towels in my bathroom cabinet. I always kept the laundry done, but never bothered to keep more than a couple of towels in the bathroom. I’d just use one and hang it on the back of the door. It’s another change from living with Julia. Another change that doesn’t bother me all that much.
I wrap a fresh towel snugly around my waist and use my hand to clear the moisture from the bathroom mirror. My reflection is peering back at me, calling me out on all the lies I’ve been telling myself.
That things will be okay. That I’ll find a way out of this mess.
The lines around my mouth, the way my shoulders hang. . . . I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m trying to play hero and I haven’t got the first fucking clue where to start. My only hope is a fucking pipe dream, one that I don’t even know will work if it does fucking work.
The lights on my phone flash on the counter. I turned the sound off before I got in; the calls and texts were starting to go haywire. A text from Brett was waiting for me after work with a link to his article. In his favor, and mine, he was as suggestive and dramatic as I’d hoped.
“By all accounts, Crew Gentry should be washed up. A star student of local legend Sal D’Amato and a wrestling standout at the University of Minnesota, Gentry hasn’t been seen or heard since leaving the mat on a stretcher. That is, until last week.
Waves were made in the MMA community last week after a video popped up online showing Gentry in a fight. The images were grainy but nonetheless impressive. He was explosive and so reminiscent of the guy so many of us followed years ago. It made me wonder . . . what’s Gentry up to these days?
When he agreed to meet me, I expected a shell of the person most of us in this community remember. I know the effects time and injury have on a man. And I vividly recall Gentry being carted away from Davidson at Iowa in the NCAA finals. The entire sports world waited to see if he’d survive the spinal cord injury and a collective sigh of relief was heard when we thought he was just paralyzed.
Crew Gentry walked up to me last night and whatever I thought he’d be; he was the exact opposite.
He’s been working the docks for the past few years. He’s strong, fit, and, more importantly, still has that twinkle in his eye.
I asked him about fighting again. He gave me a fighter’s response and said he wouldn’t turn down a fight. I pressed further, asking if he thought he could take Hunter Davidson again. He was more curious if Hunter Davidson could handle him again.
Before meeting Gentry, I would’ve thought it was crazy to even consider such a thing. But after seeing him, feeling his energy, my money’s on Crew.
Calls and messages are starting to pour in. A good sign in one respect, meaning the article was getting shared and talked about. A bad sign in another because the attention was not from the right people and it was only adding to the fraying of my nerves.
I see Jordyn’s number and pick it up. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Crew. You home?”
“Yeah. Just got out of the shower.”
“I’m like two streets over. Can I drop by?”
“Nah, you better not.”
“Okay,” she pouts. “You coming by the bar tonight?”
“Nope. Listen, things are kinda busy for me right now. So I won’t be around much.”
The line goes quiet for a moment. “Fine. You seeing someone else?”
“It’s not like that.”
“It never is,” she sighs. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. Just don’t come chasing me when you’re done with whoever it is.”
“I don’t even chase my fucking liquor, J.”
“Whatever. Bye.”
I end the call and look at myself again. It’s a Friday night and I’ve just turned down free pussy and I’m not going to the bar.
Who the hell am I?
“Crew?” Julia’s says from the other side of the door. Her voice is quiet, tired, but has that underlying edge of determination that it always does.
Hearing her voice saying my name reminds me of the man I was, the man I am, and the man I’m determined to become. She gives me a reason to want to do better.
“Yeah?”
“Dinner’s ready, if you’re hungry.”
I shake my head at myself in the mirror.
She is a fighter. Take fucking notes.
JULIA
The moments tick by, each breath advancing us forward to Monday morning.
I rinse the last breakfast plate before putting it into the dishwasher. Over my shoulder, I see Crew and Ever on the couch watching cartoons. In the middle of this hell I’m living in, a world of diagnosis, vitamins, antibiotics, unknowns, denials, and uncertainty, the scene in front of me gives me something to hold onto.
I’ve toyed all day with when to tell Ever what’s going on. At first, I was going to wait until Sunday to tell her, figuring it would give her the least amount of time to worry about it. Then I thought maybe it’d be easier for her to know now and have all day today and tomorrow to ask us questions and get comfortable with the idea.
My stomach aches with dread. I’m sure an ulcer is forming. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I just go from motion-to-motion, looking at the clock. Even that is a source of anxiety. I don’t want to see Monday get any closer; I don’t want to witness such horrid things happening to my baby. Yet again, each day that passes is a day that she’s not getting treatment. I just pray the doctor’s know what they’re doing.
“We need all our ducks in a row, Ms. Gentry. We need all the lab work back and time to call in a team to study it. This is what we do and we want your daughter to be as strong as possible when it’s time for treatment. Trust us.”
I trust no one.
I dry my hands on a dishtowel and gather my courage. “Crew? Can you come here for a minute?”
He looks up and pulls his eyebrows together. He pats Ever on the head and walks toward me. He stops a few steps away.
“I was thinking . . .” I know once we do this, there is no going back. It has to be done, but I’m terrified to do it. I don’t want to see her scared. I don’t want to see her cry.
“Maybe we should tell her tonight. Give her a couple of days to think about it? Ask questions? Before we have to show up and start everything.”
“Yeah,” he says gruffly. He nods, like he’s still coming to terms with the idea and stands taller. He pulls me in to his chest and I let him. I need this bit of reassurance that I’m not going through this alone. Maybe it makes me weak to need him, but damn it, I do.
The warmth of his embrace, the hardness of his body, the scent of his skin that I remember begins to fill up that part of me that seems empty. The part of me that I rely on for strength.
Pulling back, he brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes. “Ready?”
“Now?” I ask. I wasn’t prepared to do it later, let alone now.
“Let’s do it now. Get it over with.”
I nod because agreeing to this out loud is more than I can do. He turns and heads back into the living room. I follow. My throat is so dry, my chest stinging so badly that I’m not sure I’ll be able to say anything.
“Hey, monkey. Your mommy and I want to talk to you for a second, okay?” Crew glances at me, waiting for me to sit. I lower myself beside Ever and he sits in the chair by the window.
Ever sits up and looks from Crew to me. “Okay. What do you want to talk about? Taking me to the park?”
“No, but maybe we can go tomorrow, okay?”
She seems pleased with the answer and looks at me.
“So, remember how we were at the doctor earlier this week? And they did all kinds of te
sts and things?” I ask.
Her eyes grow wide and she scoots back to the back of the couch. “Yes. It hurt.”
Her words strangle me. I look at Crew pleadingly.
“Yeah, those things suck,” he says, getting Ever’s attention. “Before you were born, I got hurt. And I had to do all kinds of tests like that. It doesn’t feel good.”
“You did?” she asks. “I didn’t know that.”
“I did. So I know what it feels like.”
Crew pauses, waiting for me to join in. I know he’s letting me lead the conversation and I appreciate that. I just don’t know what to say.
“Your doctors called, Everleigh. And you know how your belly hurts a lot?”
She nods and places a hand on her tummy.
“Inside your belly, there’s a knot. We can’t see it, but it’s there.”
She makes a face, her little nose wrinkled like a bunny. “A knot?” She rubs her stomach, trying to feel it.
“Kind of. And it’s going to keep making you really sick if we don’t get the knot to go away.”
“Okay. How do I do that? I don’t like my belly hurting.”
Like a baseball player, up to bat with three balls and two strikes and only needing a base hit to win the World Series, I choke.
“Here’s the thing, kiddo. We gotta give you some medicine that will get it to go away,” Crew says, taking the reins.
“Like the pink bubble gum stuff?”
“No, Ever.” Crew steeples his fingers and rests his chin on them. He studies her. “You’re a smart little girl, aren’t you?”
“I am! Mrs. Yeryar gives me a star on all my papers. And sometimes I get to be the Student Of The Day because I never have to move my slip to blue.” She looks seriously at Crew. “Blue is bad. That means you weren’t listening.”
He smiles at her, but I can see his heart breaking right alongside mine. “I’m going to talk to you like a big girl because you are such a good listener. Can you listen like a big girl for me for just a minute?”
Her face is somber and she nods, sitting a little taller. She likes being responsible and I know she’s going to listen to everything he has to say. I’m not sure, under the circumstances, if that’s a good idea. But I don’t really know what is at this point.
“In our bodies, we have things called cells. They are like little bubbles of information. Sometimes, and no one knows why, some of those little bubbles get the wrong information. They don’t listen.”
“I bet they move their slips all the way to black!” she laughs.
“They probably do,” he smiles sadly. “These little black-slip cells form little groups and as the group gets bigger, it makes you sick. And it can make you very, very sick if the doctors don’t get them to listen.”
“Is that what’s wrong with me?”
Her innocence destroys me. I have to look away, unable to make eye contact with either of them. This conversation is just as painful as losing Gage because, in a way, I’m losing Ever, too. I’m losing the purity of my baby girl. I’ll never be able to look in her eyes and see the untainted joy of a child again. She’ll have this looming over her head; she’ll always fear something is wrong. Cancer not only seeps into your body, it melts in your consciousness. As much as we try to keep things normal, our version of normal will be forever changed.
“It is,” Crew replies, his voice raw. “And we are going to have to give you some medicine at the hospital. You’ll be there for a few days and it’s gonna be yucky. But, I promise, it’s better than letting more cells turn their slips to black.”
She reaches out and grabs my thigh. She wiggles herself closer to me and picks up my arms and lays it over her shoulders. I pull her in close and kiss the top of her head. I start to speak, but she cuts me off.
“Uncle Crew, I don’t want more yucky medicine.”
“I know, monkey. But your mommy and I will make sure everything is okay.”
He glances at me and I look at the ceiling. The tears are building, threatening to break the levee, and I can’t cry in front of her. I can’t let her see that I’m scared as shit . . . that I don’t necessarily believe that everything is going to be okay. I don’t want her to even suspect that I feel utterly helpless right now, unable to provide her with the damn therapy that will save her life. I don’t want her to worry about the banks denying me for every loan I’ve tried to take, every tear-filled phone call I’ve made this morning, pleading with the insurance and the hospital while Crew took her to the grocery store for milk.
I am her mother! I am the one that’s supposed to protect her from the world. And I’m letting her down.
A sob starts to escape and I swallow it down. If I’m going to fail her at everything, at least I can be strong while I do it.
“How long will it take?” she asks.
“We don’t know, sweetheart. We’ll have to see.”
She gazes into the distance and I know she’s thinking about what we’ve told her. Crew catches my eye and we wait for her to say something, give her time to process the information.
“Is it like the flu?” she asks finally. “Like I’ll get sick to my belly? My throat will hurt?”
“Kind of. What you have is called cancer,” Crew says tentatively.
Everleigh stiffens. “Cancer? Megan’s mommy has cancer! She was very sick. Megan cried on recess. She thought she would never see her again!” She whirls around to face me, a look of horror on her face. “She said she lost all of her hair. Will I lose my hair, Mommy?”
She runs her hands through her long, black hair. When I don’t respond, she looks to Crew.
He looks baffled for a second before a slow smile graces his lips. “Honestly, Ever? Maybe. But you never know.” He pauses for a minute. “You know how we call all candy on a stick a lollipop? But there are all kinds of lollipops, right? Some have gum inside, some chocolate, some are red? That’s like cancer, monkey. We say ‘cancer,’ but there are all different kinds and every one does something kinda different.”
“Will it fall out in the bathroom? That’s what Megan said happened to her mommy. She said she would get out of the shower and a bunch of her hair would be in the bottom. That would be so scary.” Her bottom lip trembles as she looks between us.
She doesn’t understand. In her little mind, that’s all she can control. Her hair. Something so basic and something we take for granted is the one thing she’s focusing on.
“Did you know I used to be a fighter?” Crew asks her.
She shakes her head, tilting her head to the side. She’s obviously as confused as I am by his line of questioning.
“Well, I was. I used to fight a lot. And you know what we would do before we fought?”
She shakes her head again.
“We would shave our hair off.”
She blanches. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“Because,” he says exaggeratedly, “when you go into a fight and you have no hair, that tells the guy you’re fighting that you’re serious. That you came ready to win. It gives you power because it was your choice to shave your head. He can’t do that to you.”
Her little eyes light up and I hold my breath.
“So that’s what we should do. Cancer wants to fight us? We show it that we came ready for battle.” He tilts his head down, looking at her like they’re discussing strategy. Maybe they are.
“We have to shave our heads?” She seems to consider what he’s saying. “Am I going to die, Uncle Crew?”
I gasp, my stomach falling to the floor. Crew, too, looks shocked at the question but recovers quicker than me.
“No. You won’t. I promise you. We are going to fight this together.” He looks up at me, his eyes crystal clear. “The three of us are going to beat cancer. It’s going to take a lot of work and it’s not gonna be fun. But if we show it we are serious, we’ll win.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, watching him closely.
Crew laughs, but I know it’s for her benefit. “Sure I
’m sure. Have you seen me?” He pulls the edge of his sleeve back and flexes his muscle, making Ever laugh. “I’m a monster.” He reaches forward and tickles her. She twists around on my lap, her laughs rushing over me.
“Okay,” she says simply, catching her breath. “Let’s win!”
“That’s my girl.” His eyes blur with unshed tears.
“We have to be scary,” she says, wiggling her fingers in front of her face like a monster.
“Let’s do it.” He bends so they’re eye-to-eye. In a hushed voice he says, “Wanna shave our heads? Show it who’s boss?”
She stills. I’m not sure what she’s gonna say. I’m not sure I’m prepared for that either.
“You’ll do it, too?” she asks, touching the top of his head.
“Of course. We are both fighting this thing. I’m not going into this fight letting it think it’s gonna beat me from the start.”
She stands and then turns to face me, sinking her back into Crew’s front. “Will you shave yours, too, Mommy?”
“Ah,” Crew laughs, picking her up. “Your mommy isn’t much of a fighter. But she is awful pretty.”
I laugh and wipe my eyes.
“She is pretty!” Ever says through her giggles.
Crew twists her around and sits her on his hip. They look at each other, a smile on both of their faces. He taps her nose. “Let’s let mommy be the cheerleader. That’ll be her job. We can’t have her getting in the way as we do the dirty work.”
“Okay.”
“We need to give her a job so she doesn’t feel left out though,” he says, looking at me through the corner of his eye. “We’ll let her do the shaving, okay?”
“And make us Kool-Aid?” Ever asks hopefully.
“And make us Kool-Aid,” Crew laughs, pulling me into his other side.
“This is gonna be okay, girls,” he says and squeezes me tight. I look up into his eyes and he mouths, “I promise.”
CREW
My newly-buzzed scalp feels smooth against my calloused hand. I hear Ever playing in the bathtub while Julia finishes sweeping up the mess.
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