My eyes and nose prickled.
“Don’t speak to your mother that way, son,” Dad said.
“You don’t tell me what to do, and don’t call me son. How can you stand yourself? You’ve barely even checked in on her. You haven’t shown up.”
Dad’s face tensed. Instinctively, I almost defended him, but then I realized I had nothing to say. It was true. He didn’t come home early, because it was inconvenient. Barb and Dad hadn’t even come back every weekend from Wisconsin like they’d promised.
“Can we talk about this outside, Mother?” Craig asked, pulling out a low but scathing tone on the word “mother.” Barb marched past him, heading through the kitchen toward the backyard.
I tried to get a gauge on my dad. He hated conflict. Through a tense jaw he said, “You two are out of line to be inviting this many guests over without asking, and to speak to Barb that way—”
No way. I was having none of that. My crutches stabbed the floor with each step back to the kitchen. Through the large window to the backyard, I saw Barb and Craig, and I gathered from their wild gesturing that their conversation wasn’t going well, either.
We cleaned up in speedy silence—me ignoring Dad when he tried to speak to me again—gathered all our stuff, and walked out to the driveway.
“We need to talk some more. Call me later?” Jason asked. I nodded. I craved for him to hug me, but he gave me the quickest kiss on the cheek and headed to his car to wait for Owen, who was finishing up a drawn-out good-bye with Quinn.
Hana huffed up to my side, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyelids at the house. “I’d tell that Barb off if it would help.”
“I’d torpedo kick her to the moon if it would help. My dad, too.” I couldn’t believe him. “Maybe I should ask if a bionic leg is an option? That would be handy right now.”
“Now you’re talking,” Hana said as we walked over to Quinn’s car. When she finished her good-bye with Owen, she got in the car and pulled out of the driveway fast, in a fleeing-the-scene-of-a-crime way.
“I feel for Craig,” I said. “How did he turn out so well with her for a mom?”
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Hana asked. “He always seemed tough, but the more I get to know him, he’s pretty sensitive, huh?”
“He really is.” I nodded.
Quinn poked Hana on the thigh. “I think he just needs some lurrrvin’ from you. It’ll make everything better.”
Hana shoved her and, flustered, turned again to where I sat in the back. “I don’t want to talk about this. Too weird.”
“You know I’m happy for you two,” I said. “So, talk away. Especially because I’m looking forward to the height-challenges of your relationship.”
Quinn laughed.
“Shut up, you guys.” Hana glared at me and slapped Quinn on the leg.
Quinn dropped Hana and me off at our adjacent apartment complexes, and we said our good-byes.
When I got inside, Mom was in her bedroom with the light on. “I’m home,” I said in passing, heading straight to my room and flopping down on my bed, though I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
I pushed the heels of my hands against my eyes to stop the images of me breaking the news to Jason in the kitchen when Barb started screaming her orangutan face off.
Mom knocked on my door. “Sweetie, your dad’s here to see you.” I widened my eyes and shook my head at her, but she wasn’t going to have it and widened her eyes right back at me, a look that made it clear I had to go see him.
Dad was standing in the living room, and I peered around suspiciously for Barb, but she wasn’t there. I wondered if she and Craig were still at it, or if she was waiting, or rather, fuming, in the car. Dad’s face was constricted. I glared at him.
“Craig is right,” he said.
I narrowed my glare even more. “What do you mean by that?”
“Back at the house, I was getting to it, but I should have said that first. Craig is right. I haven’t been there for you, and I’m sorry.”
My eyes welled up. Those were the words I hadn’t known I needed to hear so badly. I took a deep breath and tried my best to suppress any tears. After Barb’s freak-out, the way he and Barb had abandoned Craig, and him not coming to see me sooner, I wasn’t going to just let it go. That was some pretty unforgiveable stuff.
Mom gestured to the couch. “I’ll give you two some time.” Dad and I shuffled over silently and sat down as she retreated to her room.
There was a long pause before Dad said, “I’m also sorry for what happened earlier at the house. Barb is, too.”
I nodded.
“You look great, by the way. I’d never suspect you were a cancer patient.” He tried to sound upbeat, but the tear that escaped gave him away. My father never cried. Did he actually care? Then why the silence over the past weeks? I was pretty sure cell phones worked in Hawaii.
He rubbed his face and said, “I have a lot of excuses, none of them acceptable. All to do with my own inability to deal with these emotions.” A second tear dropped. “Remember that time when you were choking on a string of pizza cheese at your birthday party, and I pulled it out of your throat?
“Or that time you skidded out into the street on your bike, and I reacted in an instant and picked up you and the bike and all before you got hit? This time…” His shoulders drooped. “This…I don’t know. I was in shock. And I didn’t handle it the right way. I didn’t handle it at all. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from this.”
He hugged me tightly, and my chin trembled against his shoulder. I wished he could save me from this, too.
We ended up talking for over an hour. He told me how it had been a stressful time for him and Barb with the move and job transitions. How he missed me. How he had regrets about the timing of their move, but how the slower pace of life in Wisconsin was a welcomed change.
I filled him in on the tumor stuff and told him about some of my favorite moments of our Spontaneous Combustion shows, trying my best not to directly point out he’d missed my performances.
It was getting late when Dad stood up. “I should get back to Craig and Barb. We’ve got some things to work out, too.” He cleared his throat. “I know I haven’t handled things well between us, Ellie-bee. I’m going to do better.” He looked me in the eyes but stayed quiet. I nodded and waited until I understood he was done with his big speech. We hugged good-bye, and I closed the door behind him, feeling at least a little better about us.
Jason on the other hand… My stomach coiled at the thought of telling him the details. I took out my phone and saw I had a missed call and a text from him.
This was something I had to do in person. I needed to see his face to know how he really felt. I texted back.
Hey, sorry. Just got done talking with my dad for forever. Emotions are hard. Sorry Barb’s wrath cut us off. I’m about to fall over from exhaustion. Can we talk tomorrow? Your house sometime after school?
He texted right back,
Anytime. Glad you and your dad got to talk.
Thanks.
I watched the bubble of dots as he typed more, picking at the cuticle of my thumb in anticipation.
Ellie, I’m so sorry it’s cancer. I wish I could take your cancer, put it in a beach bag…and throw it into a fiery volcano.
:) I’ll research that option, I texted back.
For real, I’m sorry, and I’m here. Talk tomorrow.
How was he so nice? Especially when he’d so recently lost his mom. Maybe that was it—he was trained in all the things you say and don’t say when someone drops the C-bomb. He knew what to say to me. What he really thought was probably “Run away.”
You’re the sweetest, Jason. Goodnight.
Goodnight.
Despite feeling like I’d been up for eighty hours, I slept fitfully with nightmares of volcanic tumors exploding and killing everyone around me, of Jason being carried away in a lava flow, and me, arms outstretched, unable to save him.
Chapter Sixteen
Mom and I sat across from each other at the dining room table. She was in her new permanent position with her laptop, where she’d been for the last few evenings after work, researching and making cancer-parent connections online.
I scanned the spreadsheet I was creating with all the different types of surgeries and their risks, thinking I’d finish a few more rows before going to Jason’s, but I couldn’t focus on any of the words on the screen with my heart thumping in my gut.
“Mom, can I borrow the car, please?”
She looked up from her screen, her forehead still a sea of lines from over-concentrating on whatever she was reading. “Are you sure your leg is okay to drive?”
I slid her glasses to her across table. “It’s my left leg, Mom. I don’t need it for the pedals.”
“Oh, right. Okay, honey.” She got up and kissed and hugged me like she’d never see me again, which I guess was a near possibility.
I went back to my room, brushed my hair, and tried on seven different shirts in search of the one that best said I might have cancer but look how cute I am.
When I got close to Jason’s, the sun was setting over the lake, and pinks and oranges lit up the sky. Families biked on the path along the water. The world continued on, even though my life had irrevocably changed. At a stoplight, I stared at my legs and wondered if I’d find a second opinion that would keep me from losing my leg forever. What would a prosthetic feel like on? What would it feel like when I took it off and nothing connected the left side of my body to the earth?
A few minutes later, Jason’s dad answered the door. “Ellie, hello. Come on in. Looks like those crutches are making you buff.”
“Yes, I’m getting the shoulders I need to fulfill my body-builder destiny.”
“Just what you always hoped for,” he said drily. “Jason is working in the garden with Olivia. Head on back.”
“Thanks, Mr. Cooper.” Jason’s dad retreated to his office, and I crutched down the long hall past the kitchen. This time I noticed their family pictures along the walls. I paused to look at a professional photo of the four of them taken in the gazebo of their garden. Next to it was a portrait of Jason’s mom, this one a natural shot, a black-and-white close-up of her laughing. She was a true beauty, and I saw where Jason got his smile and his singular dimple. At the bottom were the words, “In loving memory of Linda May Cooper.”
Every day. Every day he must see this and miss her, wish for one more hug.
I sniffled and moved on to the library. The French doors were open to the backyard.
“Do it now, before either of you gets hurt.” It was Olivia speaking from outside. I froze.
“No way. You don’t get it.” Jason sounded wounded.
“Do you remember what you were like when Mom was going through all that? You’re lucky the school didn’t make you repeat junior year. Your senior year is just starting and—”
“Stop it. It’s not going to be like what Mom went through.”
“You don’t know that, Jason. Cancer is cancer.”
“How cruel would that be? And anyway I—”
“Think about it. What if she has to go through chemo, radiation, surgery? Are you even capable of being that support person right now—again? So soon? It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to Dad and me. You were practically catatonic for months. We just got you back.”
Pressure flooded my nose and eyes, and my body shook. I slowly moved out of the library and then crutched down the hall as quietly as I could manage to the front entrance, wishing I could run. My breathing was so fast I could hardly get control of it. I had to leave. But I told him I was coming. His dad knows I’m here.
Footsteps down the hall behind me. Crap, crap, crap.
Wiping away the pools from eyes, I did my best to steady my breath and my trembling chin. I put my hand on the doorknob like I had just let myself in—weird, but there are zero un-weird options right now—and turned around.
“Hey, you’re here. Hi,” Jason said.
He had a spot of dirt on his forehead. My hand lifted an inch before I resisted brushing the smudge away, resisted kissing him. That couldn’t happen ever again. How cruel would that be? he’d said. Right. I would be the cruel one to let him stay with me out of guilt.
He reached out to what? Touch, kiss, hug me? I don’t know. I crutched a step back, not letting him. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Well, that was easy to answer. “No, I’m not, actually. I…I’m sorry to do this, but—”
His face blanched. “No, Ellie don’t.” He reached again, grazing my arm as I pulled away.
I had to close my eyes to say the words. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you everything. Yes, it’s cancer, but it’s bad. I mean”—I opened my eyes, keeping my gaze down—“not that all cancer isn’t bad, but mine is really rare, and the doctor didn’t even know what to do for sure, but her recommendation was”—I took a deep breath—“amputation. So, I can’t handle that and do this…” I waved my hand, indicating him and me. “Whatever this is between us.”
“I’m sorry, Ellie, so sorry. But please, I—”
“I hope you understand. This is just going to be a lot, and I need, you know…I need to focus.”
“I’m here for you. I can help.” He looked at me like I was stabbing him.
My insides twisted, but I shook my head, thinking of everything Olivia had said. I was the worst possible person for him right now. My body ached to hug him, but I needed to do this.
“I don’t want that from you.” I forced the words out. “Please. And I’m not going to do the sketch for the contest.” I decided there on the spot. I had no desire to be hoisted over my friends’ heads or spun around on a stool in gold lamé. “So, I probably won’t see you for a while. I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Shaking again, I turned to leave as Jason said, “Ellie, please. Can we talk? Please—”
It was so hard to ignore the pain and pleading in his voice, but I shut the door and crutched as fast I could to the car.
Unbelievable. I can’t even run right now.
The second I turned on the ignition, I pressed on the gas. The wheels screeched against the pavement, and I fought to get my seat belt on as I swerved out of the driveway. The longest driveway in the history of driveways.
Back on the road, I opened the windows and turned the music up and up. The shaking got worse until my whole body was sobbing, the tears coming so hard and fast I could barely see. A floodgate opened in my sinuses and snot poured down my mouth and chin.
I searched for tissues, but there weren’t any, so I used the bottom of my T-shirt to try and staunch the flow, but it was useless. Like everything.
I was disgusting. And I had cancer. I was a tumorous, slobbering, snot-producing, fish-killing, heart-breaking wreck of a human.
Chapter Seventeen
Hana, Quinn, and I were all in Craig’s kitchen on a non-rehearsal night. It had been a week since fleeing Jason. He’d called and texted, and I’d texted back, keeping it short and mostly saying stuff like, “Sorry, I can’t. I hope you understand.” Awful. But I didn’t know how else to keep it together. The sobbing fit on the way home from his house had hollowed me out, and I needed to stay that way. Empty. Numb.
On nights there weren’t Las Palomas del Disco rehearsals, Craig and I would come to his place after dinner with Mom at our apartment. There was more room to study, and Quinn and Hana would join us. We did study, but we’d also finish our nights watching a couple of episodes of Ranma and overeating Marshmallow Mateys.
Tonight, we were temporarily out of cereal, so we’d made brownies instead.
“Why won’t these finish baking already?” Hana’s face was practically pressed to the oven door. She was wearing a shirt of her own design that read, “Tiny animals are my friends,” with an arrow pointing to a bird that rode on top of a kitten that rode on top of a bunny.
“Probably because they’ve only been in the o
ven for five minutes.” Craig took a break from messaging with Luke about music to offer his logic. This whole Hana-Craig combo still had my head spinning.
Craig and Hana had gone to downtown Chicago on their date, to the Lords of Misrule concert. Hana declared the date to be “Categorically the best night of my life. The Lords of Misrule is the best band I’ve ever seen, and Craig the best kisser I’ve ever known.”
(To which I’d responded, “Ew,” and, “It’s not like you’ve had a lot of comparison.” To which she’d responded, “Eat a bag.” To which I’d responded, “Promise to never say that again and I will allow you to keep dating my brother.” To which she’d responded, “Step,” and, “But okay.”)
They were now An Item. And while I couldn’t quite get over the odd coupling—five-foot Hana nestling in close to six-foot-five Craig—they were also adorable.
“I’m not looking for brilliant answers here. I’m looking for ways to open up the space-time-brownie continuum so I can be in gooey chocolate heaven now, thank you,” Hana huffed.
Quinn looked up from where she sat at the island counter working on costumes for the sketch. “Seriously, Hana, why are you freaking out over brownies?”
“Nerves, people. Comedy Hub’s contest is a little over two weeks away, and everything’s a disaster. I only have three quarters of the contestants I need. Do not deny a talent coordinator her chocolate treats.” Of course, once she was involved in the sketch, she’d immediately inserted herself into the production side of things, working directly with the Comedy Hub contest producers to be the local high school talent coordinator. When I asked her why she was adding so much to her schedule all at once, she replied, “It’s my fate. It’s in my name: Hana—one. Yoon—to rule.”
At least she’d use her power for good.
“Won’t you please sign up for the standup contest, Ellie?” Hana asked. “It doesn’t require any dancing, and you’d be so good.”
A Messy, Beautiful Life Page 11
