Chapter 48
Scottie: Hi. Can we talk about my boobs? They’re leaking uncontrollably. And my little girl won’t stay awake long enough to help her mommy out. But we have our Christmas tree up. Look!
It’s beenthree days since I’ve talked to my wife.
Three days since I’ve gone to work.
I spend all day in my miserably gloomy office. When Astrid comes home from school, we play the part of happy parents. We interact with her without saying a word to each other.
Amelia sleeps in the guest room at night after Astrid’s in bed.
I lean back in my desk chair and inspect the Christmas tree on my phone screen. It makes me smile.
Price: This isn’t the torrid love affair I imagined us having. Don’t start with your boobs and then send me a photo of a tree.
She replies with a photo of Penelope in a wrap carrier on her chest.
Price: Still not boobs. But arguably more precious.
Scottie: Whatcha doing?
Planning my funeral.
Price: Trying to convince yet another woman to escape this life with me. It’s earned me the silent treatment. We’re on day 3.
She doesn’t respond immediately, so I put my phone on the desk and lace my fingers behind my head.
Scottie: Give her time. She’s making decisions for her and your daughter. She’s trying to understand this journey you’ve had to take without her.
Price: Time might not be on my side.
Again, there’s a long pause.
Scottie: Whatever you decide to do, it will be the right decision.
Price: How can you say that?
Scottie: Because I had a decision to make on my wedding day. And I knew either decision would be right. Make the decision. Then, make it right.
Price: Nothing is easier than not existing
Scottie: That’s my line
Price: I might need to borrow it
Scottie: Don’t leave without saying goodbye
I nod slowly to myself. “Define leaving,” I whisper.
Price: Merry Christmas
Scottie: Merry Christmas x
Swiveling in my chair, I gaze at the photos in matte black and gold frames. Amelia and I attended so many professional sporting events because she got tickets through work. And we took pictures at all of them.
So in love.
Best friends.
A perfect match.
There was never a time in our marriage that I thought we wouldn’t last, never a time where I imagined myself with anyone else. Not even Scottie.
Everyone who knows my wife knows she’s filled with life. Feisty. The life of the party. She knows no enemies. She loves so hard. But unlike Scottie, Amelia has many fears. With her, there’s no living in the moment. Her mind is always three steps ahead, anticipating everyone’s needs, or three steps behind, figuring out what went wrong with a proposal at work or why Astrid didn’t have fun at a friend’s birthday party. She’s a fixer.
But she can’t fix me the way she thinks I need to be fixed. She’s carrying enough fear over losing me for both her and Astrid.
“Dad! Guess what?” Astrid runs into my office with her backpack falling off her shoulders.
“What?” I turn in my chair.
“Emma’s sick. So, I get to be Clara instead of a fairy.” She hugs me.
God, I love this girl.
“My daughter’s the star of The Nutcracker. I’ll need your autograph.”
“My autograph?” She pulls away from me, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes. Right here.” I uncap a Sharpie and point to the top of my desk. “Write your name.”
“I can’t write on your desk.”
“It’s my desk. If I say you can write on it, then you can write on it.”
She giggles while writing her name in big letters. “Can we get pizza tonight?”
“No, honey,” Amelia says, stepping into my office, arms crossed. “I’m making dinner. Lots of veggies and cabbage soup.”
Astrid’s nose wrinkles. “Cabbage soup? Can we have blueberry muffins in case I don’t like the soup?”
“No.”
“We can have pizza,” I say, lifting Astrid off my lap and standing.
“Yay!” Astrid runs out of my office.
My wife opens her mouth but closes it just as quickly, turns, and leaves me alone in my office.
There’s nothing easier than not existing.
I head up the stairs and peek in on Astrid, who ignores me while playing with her iPad.
When I get to our bedroom, Amelia’s hanging the clean clothes in the closet.
“I’ll go back to the doctor. And we’ll see where I’m at on this. If they suggest chemo, then I’ll do chemo. We’ll let Astrid be part of this so she understands what’s happening every step of the way.”
She turns to face me. “Don’t do this for me,” she whispers.
“I’m doing it for her.”
After a few seconds, she nods.
Four days before Christmas,we get the news. The cancer is spreading again. It’s no surprise to me, and this time, I can see from Amelia’s composure that it’s no surprise to her either.
“I have the same options for you as before,” Dr. Faber says, folding her hands in her lap.
“Let’s do the chemo,” I say with a firm nod and fake smile.
“Do you want to discuss it?” Amelia rests her hand on my arm.
I shrug. “What’s there to discuss?”
Her forehead wrinkles while her teeth dig into her lower lip.
“We can start right after Christmas or wait until after New Year’s.”
“The sooner, the better,” I say.
Dr. Faber nods. “I’ll walk you out and get everything scheduled.”
I stand, and so does the doctor, but Amelia doesn’t. She stares at her lap, hands gripped to the edge of the chair.
“Coming?” I hold out a hand.
She’s expressionless. When she glances up, her vacant eyes find mine. Without taking my hand, she stands, and we follow the doctor.
We schedule future appointments.
We drive home in silence.
My mom greets us as soon as we open the door. “How did it go?” she asks, wringing her hands together.
I can only imagine what she must be feeling. No parent wants to lose a child.
“Well, the cancer has spread again, but I’m lined up to start chemo after Christmas. So, all we can do is take it one day at a time.”
Lips pressed together, she nods several times, tears building in her eyes.
I hug her. “It’s not the end of the world,” I whisper.
She sniffles. “M-my boy. You are my world.”
Amelia wipes her eyes and jogs up the stairs.
As my mom pulls away, she digs out a tissue from her pocket and wipes her nose. “Why don’t you go away again? Whatever you did before worked, right?”
“It’s not sustainable. It’s not fair to leave Amelia and Astrid again. And for how long? This is my life here. I’ll do what I can here.”
“I hate this.” She blots the corners of her eyes.
“I don’t exactly love it, but it’s part of life, and I’m at peace with whatever happens. I will enjoy Christmas with my family and deal with everything else as it comes. One day at a time.”
She gives me another hug. “I love you. I love you more than anyone. And I can’t have you leave this world before me. Do you hear me?”
I can’t fucking speak, so I nod.
When she drags herself away and the door closes behind her, I take a deep breath and climb the stairs.
“Hey, sunshine. Can we talk?”
Astrid sets her book aside and sits up straight on the edge of her bed. “About what?”
Amelia’s hand rests on my back for a second, and then her fingers interlace with mine.
“My cancer is back. And this time, I’m going to have a special treatment called chemotherapy to slow its growth. And we don’t know if it will work, but we’re going to try.”
She frowns. “Are you going to die?”
Amelia squeezes my hand just before I release hers to make my way to Astrid. I kneel in front of her, resting my hands on her legs. “I don’t know, baby girl. And I know that’s not what you want to hear. I wish I could promise you more, but I can’t. But whatever you feel about my cancer is okay. If you’re sad or angry, that’s okay. If you feel confused or scared, that’s okay, too. I don’t want you to hide your feelings.”
Crocodile tears slide down her cheeks in a blink, and her lips quiver. “I d-don’t want y-you to die.”
I wrap her in my arms, kissing her head over and over. “I know,” I manage to squeak two words while I pray for time to slow down so I can just hold my little girl as long as possible.
Amelia sits next to Astrid and hugs both of us, her sobs leaking out despite how hard I know she’s trying to be strong.
Some things in life just hurt, and there’s no way to acknowledge them without the pain. Disease sucks. Dying sucks. And what hurts the most is knowing my part will be the easiest.
There’s nothing easier than not existing.