by Tara Sivec
“So, I’m thinking I’m not cut out to be a mom of three girls. Do you think Jim would be mad if I packed up my things and moved to Lithuania?”
Claire paused with her hand above the “repeat bet” button and turned to look at me. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
I shrugged, smacking my hand down on the closest button on my machine just to give myself something to do. “I mean, this shit is hard. What in the hell ever possessed me to have three kids?”
Not only did I have three kids all under the age of three, I also ran my own business that had turned into several chains across the U.S. and had a husband I liked to pay attention to every once in a while. I was drowning in invoices and baby formula and interviewing preschools and managers for the chains, not to mention the fact that I hadn’t gotten more than two consecutive hours of sleep in at least two years.
“Of course it’s hard. Being in a mom is the hardest job in the entire fucking world. I’m not going to tell you that ‘it’s all worth it in the end’ or some stupid shit like that because who knows if it will be worth it? Who knows if when our kids finally grow up we’ll have done a good job or if they’ll need therapy for the rest of their lives? All you can do is the best that you can and believe me, you are doing great. Your kids are all still alive, that’s all that matters. If I’m having a shitty day, the kids are crying, the phone is ringing off the hook and Carter and I are arguing about something, all I do is look at my kids and say ‘Well, at least they’re still alive’,” Claire explained.
“I feel like I’m losing my mind. Why didn’t you tell me being a mom would make me go insane?”
Claire laughed and shook her head at me. “Sorry, those are trade secrets in the mom world. And if I remember correctly, you were there for the first four years when I was a single mom to a boy who liked to talk about his penis in public. He’s seven now and still likes to talk about his penis to strangers, but at least now I have Carter to help out, just like you have Jim. You’re doing a great job, Liz. Your girls adore you and someday, they’ll be grown and have kids of their own and you can point and laugh at them when they come crying to you. Full circle, baby. Full circle.”
“DAAAAAAAAADDDY! I need more money!”
Claire and I turned in our seats when we heard Jenny whine behind us. She stood in front of Jim with her hand out while he shook his head at her.
“Uh, hey guys. Why is Jenny calling you daddy?” Claire asked Jim.
Jenny looked up and her sad face immediately went away when she saw us.
“You guys!! I am having the BEST time! But Daddy here took my money and he won’t let me have any more,” she said with a pout as she pointed at Jim.
My husband stared at her with a blank expression on his face, which usually meant he was trying his hardest to keep his mouth shut before he said something he’d regret.
“Why won’t ‘DAAAAAADDDDYY’ let you have any money?” Claire asked, doing a perfect imitation of Jenny’s whiny voice.
“If one more person calls me Daddy, you’re all going to die,” Jim stated in a monotone voice.
“Daddy isn’t being fair!” Jenny complained with a stomp of her foot.
Jim growled and I put a hand on his arm to keep him from choking Jenny.
“Hey, Jenny. How about you tell them why I’m not letting you have your money,” Jim suggested.
We looked at Jenny and she rolled her eyes. “I was winning! I put my gambling card in the machine and it gave me two hundred and fifty dollars!”
“What machine is this?” Claire asked, looking around for the machine that was obviously a winner.
“Oh, please tell them what machine,” Jim begged, his face suddenly taking on a look of pure delight.
Jenny pointed to the other side of the room. “See? That one over there. The Atom game.”
Claire and I squinted, trying to find this Atom game she spoke of, but we couldn’t see anything through the mess of people, blinking lights and gaming tables.
“What Jenny is pointing out to you would be the ATM machine,” Jim informed us.
“You win every single time!” Jenny announced happily.
“And this is why she is no longer allowed to have her ‘gambling card’ or her money,” Jim added, using his hands to finger-quote gambling card. Which we suddenly realized was her bank card.
“Come on, Daddy! I want to win more money!” Jenny shouted, grabbing Jim’s arm and dragging him away.
He gave us a pleading look, but Claire and I waved happily at him as they disappeared in the crowd.
“Well, the good news is, Jenny is giving him tons of babysitting practice for your kids,” Claire stated as I sat back down next to her at my machine. “Would now be a bad time to tell you that I made you and Jim the guardians of Gavin and Sophie if something were to happen to us?”
My hand paused mid-air as I got ready to hit a button on the machine. I stared at her with wide eyes and an open mouth for so long that she finally had to snap her fingers in front of my face to pull me out of my daze.
“Don’t worry, it’s not like something is going to happen to us,” Claire explained. “Carter and I just figured we should update our wills and it’s not like I want my dad to get the kids. Could you imagine? They’d spend their childhood watching the Gameshow Network, taking naps and brushing up on their skills of stringing swear words together. Actually, that might not be a bad thing.”
“Why in the hell would you ever think it was a good idea to make me the guardian of your kids? Did you not just hear me complaining about how I suck as a mother and I don’t know what I’m doing?” I reminded her.
Claire turned her chair to face mine. “Listen, going into that lawyers office and having to talk about your children being raised by someone who isn’t you is the most depressing thing in the world. I couldn’t even get through two minutes of that meeting without crying. My kids drive me insane, but they’re still my kids. My babies. The thought of not being here to watch them grow and to teach them about life… it really sucks. But as soon as the lawyer asked me for a name, I knew there was no one else in the world I would want to raise my kids if I couldn’t do it.”
I refused to fucking cry in the middle of a casino, but it was no use. My eyes filled with tears and I was honored that Claire trusted me enough to make me the guardians of her kids, but I still didn’t get it.
“But why me? I mean, you have Carter’s parents and your dad and, even though Jenny and Drew are fucking crazy, they’re fun and young at heart and great parents so far. Why in the hell would you ever pick me?”
Claire cocked her head at me and leaned closer. “No one could ever replace me as my kid’s mom. But when you’re looking at the people in your life who might just have to take on that role someday, you try to find someone who will give your children a taste of their mother when she’s gone, someone who reminds them of you. I can’t imagine someone else raising my children. No one seems like the right choice because they’re not me, so I chose someone who is as close to ‘me’ as I could get. You’re my person, Liz. You’re my other half. If I’m not here, there is no one else in the world who could remind my kids of me and give them the same kind of love I did.”
“DAAAAAAAAADDDDY! GIVE ME MY GAMBLING CARD! The Atom Machine is hot! Someone just won on it!” we heard Jenny shout over the noise of ringing machines and people cheering.
“And on that note, I think it’s time for another drink,” Claire announced.
IT’S NOT OFTEN that I find myself apologizing to someone, mostly because I make sure I’m never wrong. Just ask my husband. It’s tough for someone like me to realize she was an asshole and made a huge mistake. It’s even tougher to admit something like that out loud, in front of actual people. Armed with a bag full of tricks, I make my way inside the Cleveland Clinic and head to the Oncology Department on the third floor, prepared to do whatever I can to fix things with Claire. I’ve spent these last few weeks thinking about our history together and through
the good and bad, funny and insane, one thing always remained constant—the fact that Claire and I were meant to be in each other’s lives. We were better when we were together. I forced her to be more outgoing and helped her realize her dreams, and she taught me how to not be such a hard ass all the time and take a chance on things like falling in love and being a mother.
After asking a nurse for directions, I finally find the chemo treatment room. Taking a deep breath and making sure the baseball cap is pulled down far enough on my head, I walk inside. I see Carter on the other side of the room, sitting in a chair next to Claire reading a magazine. Claire is curled up under a blanket in a recliner, hooked up to an IV that I’m assuming is the chemo. She’s busy doing something on her phone, so I have a second to stare at her without her noticing me. I’m ashamed at myself for not wanting to look at her before because I felt bad or because I was scared. Seeing her now, with a scarf tied around her head and a determined look on her face regardless of what’s happening to her, I am so proud to call her my friend. Where before I only noticed her sickness, the pallor of her skin and the loss of her hair, now I see strength. I see what I should have seen all those weeks ago. A woman who takes whatever is thrown at her and pushes through, determined to survive no matter what. A woman who is the strongest person I have ever known. She survived getting pregnant in college and raising a child on her own for four years, she managed to build a thriving business and make her dreams come true, she took care of her family and she always, always took care of me. She pushed me to give Jim a chance when I knew nothing about love and relationships, she convinced me I was a good mother and she trusted me to be a good friend no matter what life threw at us.
I walk across the room with my head held high even though I feel like the lowest person in the world. Claire looks up at me in surprise when I drop my bag next to her chair and doesn’t say a word as I dig through it for the first item I need. I pull out the piece of paper I printed from the computer this morning, grab a roll of scotch tape and walk over to her IV.
“What are you doing?” Claire finally speaks.
I ignore her for the time being as I tape my sign to the clear bag of fluid hanging from the steel pole next to her chair. When it’s finished, I take a step back and study my work.
Carter gets up from his chair and walks over to stand next to me, reading the sign out loud. “This is probably vodka.”
He nods his head and pats me on the back. “Fitting. Very fitting.”
I walk back to my bag and pull out another sign, taping it to the footrest on her recliner so that it hangs down by Claire’s feet. Once again, Carter walks over to me and reads the sign. “Beware: I have an aggressive vagina.”
Carter laughs and Claire shoots him a dirty look.
“What?” he asks her. “Your vagina is kind of aggressive.”
Next, I pull out a couple of t-shirts, handing one to Claire. She holds it up in front of her, reading the text printed on the front of it in pink. “Itty Bitty Titty Committee—President”.
I hold up my own shirt and she reads it. “Itty Bitty Titty Committee—Secretary.”
The third shirt comes out and I turn it around for Claire to read as well. “Itty Bitty Titty Committee—Director of Foreign Affairs.”
She looks at me questioningly and I finally speak. “Jenny is the only one of us with a big rack. Obviously she’s in charge of Foreign Affairs.”
Claire is trying really hard not to smile through her pursed lips and I feel a little better about my plan.
Carter walks over to her side, leans down and kisses the top of her head. “I’m going to head over to the lounge and see if I can find some coffee. Do you need anything?”
Claire shakes her head and Carter gives me a one-armed side hug before he leaves the room, letting me know that he’s happy I came.
When we’re finally alone, aside from the two other people currently hooked up to their own chemo treatments that are napping on the other side of the room, I stick my hands in my pockets and step closer to Claire’s side.
“I’m just going to cut right to the chase and apologize for being an asshole,” I tell her. Claire crosses her arms across her chest, not saying a word. “I know nothing that is happening right now is about me, I know that, but you’re my person, Claire. What happens to you, happens to me. I’m a fixer, I like to make things better, take charge and get shit done. I have never felt so helpless in my life. It killed me that I couldn’t do anything to make you better.”
Claire opens her mouth to argue with me, but I hold up my hand to stop her. “I know it wasn’t up to me. I know it was out of my hands and I should have realized that all you needed was a friend. You needed me and I wasn’t there for you. I was too scared, too ashamed, too worried about my own problems to think about what you might need.”
I squat down next to her chair and grab her hand, pulling it away from her chest and squeezing it between my two hands. “It’s going to be okay, Claire. You’re going to be okay. You are a fucking fighter and you’re going to beat this.”
Her chin quivers and she swipes at a tear that is falling down her cheek and I continue.
“Fuck cancer. Fuck not having your tits anymore because you’re going to get bigger and better tits in a few weeks and those fuckers won’t try to kill you. You’re going to be fine because you have to be fine. I refuse to let you NOT be fine because I need you here with me. You are going to beat this thing because you are strong and amazing and you aren’t going to let some stupid shit like cancer stop you from growing old with me so we can corrupt our grandchildren. Shit, we have a wedding to finish planning and I have a hotter dress than you to wear to it. You have to be fine because we need to walk down the aisle together so everyone can judge us and realize that I look amazing in my mother of the bride dress.”
Claire laughs through her tears and shakes her head at me. “Fuck your face. I’m going to have new tits for this wedding. Obviously I’ll be the hotter one.”
We stare at each other in silence for a few minutes before she speaks again. “I’m still pissed at you, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m pissed at me, too. I give you permission to call me an asshole for the rest of our lives,” I tell her.
“I was already planning on calling you an asshole forever, this just makes it more fun,” Claire says with a shrug. “What else do you have in that bag?”
She leans over the side of her chair and stairs down at my duffle bag.
“There may or may not be some pot Rice Krispies Treats in there.”
Claire stares at me wide-eyed, quickly glancing around the room before lowering her voice. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Give me one of those damn things.”
Reaching into my bag, I pull out the Tupperware container and hand it to her. She tears open the lid, grabs one of the huge marshmallow squares and shoves the entire thing it into her mouth.
“Um, I don’t think you’re supposed to eat the whole thing at once. Didn’t you learn your lesson a few years ago with Drew’s pot cookies?”
Claire narrows her eyes at me, her cheeks stuffed full of Rice Krispies Treat as she chews slowly. When she finally swallows the thing, she lets out a sigh and smiles at me. “If these things prevent the constant diarrhea and projectile vomiting I’m plagued with after treatment, I will eat the entire fucking container of them. Tunnel vision and licking walls be damned.”
“Diarrhea, seriously?” I ask as she grabs another treat and starts chowing down on it.
“Dude, you have no idea. I swear to God I shit out my intestines last time,” she informs me. “So, what’s been going on since we last talked? I think Carter is losing his shit, but he swears he’s okay.”
I reach into the container on Claire’s lap and take a treat. Friends who get high together, stay together, or some shit like that.
“Your husband absolutely lost his shit all over your kitchen a few weeks back. You’ll be happy to know that your non-perishables are no longer
in alphabetical order,” I tell her. “He’s okay though. I think he just needed to get it out of his system. You know, screaming, yelling, cursing God. The boys stopped by and took his mind off of things.”
Claire stops chewing. “Is that why my cat now has the word “Fuck Canker” shaved into her side?”
I nod sadly. “Unfortunately, yes. Drew claims she wouldn’t sit still for him long enough to get it right, but I’m pretty sure he thinks that’s how you spell cancer. Also, he shaved his legs and my husband shaved his balls. I know you said no one was allowed to shave their heads, so they decided to take a different approach.”
Claire shakes her head in irritation. “I’m still holding firm on the spaghetti dinner and candlelight vigil. If any one of you tries that shit, I will stab you in the neck.”
“Noted,” I tell her with a nod of my head. “Move over.”
I stand up as she slides to the other side of her chair, crawling into the recliner next to her.
“Your ass is too big for this chair,” she informs me.
“Fuck off, I have a great ass and it’s the perfect size,” I reply as I get comfortable. “You keep inhaling those Rice Krispies Treats and we’re going to have to grease the door to get your giant ass out of here.”
Reaching up, I take the baseball cap off of my head, holding onto the scarf I tied underneath to keep it in place.
“So, there’s one more thing I have for you and it’s really going to piss you off.”
Claire looks up from the bowl of treats and stares at my head. Her smile falls and she starts shaking her head frantically back and forth.
“No, you didn’t. Fuck your face, NO, YOU DIDN’T!” she yells.
The patients who were previously sleeping wake up immediately and look in our direction. Reaching up, I squeeze my eyes closed and pull the scarf off of my head, waiting for her to call me an asshole again. When entirely too much time passes without her saying a word, I slowly open my eyes to find Claire outright sobbing. She lifts her hand and runs her palm over my now-bald head.
