Chapter 10
My dad carries the last box from the truck up to my room. I stare at the empty moving van, a pit opening up in my gut.
“Okay, here we go,” I say.
Closing the gate, I close the chapter on my life in Los Angeles. Not sure if one day I will return to it, I prepare myself to have to forge a new path.
Going upstairs, I take the steps two at a time, while looking at the wall lined with the story of my life.
Seeing all the smiles in the pictures, I hate myself for wondering if joy will still come that easily to me.
I know I’m going to survive this, I just don’t know if I’ll be the same person I was before.
When I see my childhood bedroom packed full of everything I brought back with me, the feeling multiplies as I search for surety among the chaos.
“Well, that’s it,” my dad says, putting his hands on his hips.
I take in a shaky breath, refusing to let myself give in to my tears. My dad, on the other hand, hasn’t stopped crying since I told him. Even now, as he rubs the sweat off of his forehead, he brings his hands down to wipe at his eyes too.
“I’m fine,” I say for what feels like the millionth time.
Every person but Farrah who finds out about my condition calls me and expects me to make them feel better about it.
My dad, damn near bawling his eyes out on the phone, keeps acting like this is a death sentence.
Whatever happened to putting on a brave face?
I know I’m trying to. I know I wake up every day ready to fight this. Why can’t everyone else?
“I know, baby girl, it’s just you are supposed to live longer than me.”
“I’m not dying,” I practically scream at him, my hands coming up to massage my temples.
“I know that, too. I just worry.”
Worst case scenario is so far off in the distance to me that I can’t bring myself to worry about if I die. Right now, I need to focus on the fact that in a few weeks, I will lose the ability to carry children. Again, I grab at my stomach like that will somehow stop whatever is coming next.
“I’m going to take off work,” he says, coming to sit on my bed.
“What for?”
“To support you.”
Used to being threatened that he will knock them out of my head, I stop my eyes from rolling.
“You can take off for the surgery, that makes sense, but the five rounds of chemo are going to take months. You can’t miss that much work.”
“But who is going to take you?”
“Farrah. She doesn’t have a job, so she is going to come back to stay with her parents until it’s all done.” My ride or die, she shows up even when I don’t want her to.
“I’m your father, I should be the one to come to these things.”
I push my bag over and sink onto the mattress next to him. Grabbing his hands, I let him squeeze mine like he is trying to keep me here.
“You’ll be here when you can be here. There is nothing for you to do. Please stop making this worse than it is.”
We both sigh for our own reasons, and then share the same look. My face is a carbon copy of his; the only thing that differentiates us is my softer angles and lighter skin.
“Why are you so damn stubborn?” He pokes my nose like he used to do when I was a kid.
“Where do you think I learned it from?”
Before he can respond, we hear a knock at the front door and then a voice calling out.
“We’re up here, Charlie,” I yell while standing.
The creaky stairs, a warning bell for every time I tried to sneak out, announce his arrival.
“Hey y’all,” he says, walking in.
My dad stands and shakes his hand before looking around the room.
“Well, I should go get the groceries you like and leave you kids to talk.” He kisses my forehead, then walks out, closing the door behind him.
“Do you want to help me unpack?” I ask, shuffling boxes to the side to get to my closet. A lot smaller than I remembered, I don’t know how everything is going to fit. It makes me think about the walk-in closet Callahan has.
“Should you be doing all of this right now?”
I fight the urge to stomp my feet and scream. Instead, I let out yet another disappointed breath.
“I’m fine. I can do everything I did before.” At least right now. I spin around so he can see how okay I am.
“Can you please just stop and treat me the same way you did before you knew?” I bring my hands together in a pleading motion.
He steps forward and covers them with his. They are so big they swallow mine, and all I see is his rich brown skin.
“I don’t know if I can. You’re precious to me, and I need to treat you that way. I don’t know if I can lose anyone else.” His eyebrow furrows, and his lips pull tight.
He is fighting with himself to hold it together.
I know how different this is for him than for everyone else. I should have expected it to be more serious on his side. As a kid, he used to cry every time someone he loved got in a car, because he thought, like his parents, he would never see them again.
Being in this place where he has to hold his breath, hoping everything turns out okay, is suffocating him in real time.
I bring his hands up to my lips and kiss them. I’m alive, I need to feel like I’m alive. He needs to see that I’m alive. I hope standing still with him will do that.
As much as it irks my soul to be continuously mitigating the emotions of everyone else, I let him have this.
“Sit down,” I say, pulling him back towards the bed.
He does so, and I crawl into his lap. His fingers gripping my thighs to hold me in place, he buries his face in my neck.
“I promise it’s going to be okay.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Yes, I can because I’m Ulisha, the goddess of the future. I can see it now.” I hope calling back to one of our favorite videogames will bring a lightness to this heavy conversation, but I don’t even get a chuckle.
“Look at me.” I lift his head so that we are eye to eye. “It was caught early, it hasn’t spread, and I am doing everything I need to do.”
He nods and I wonder if he really knows what that everything is.
Having had Farrah tell him, I don’t know if he really thought about the fact that at the end of this, I won’t be able to give him the family he’s always wanted.
At least not conventionally. I don’t know if he is actually okay with that, or waiting until this is all said and done to tell me he’s not.
I don’t know if I can handle hearing that right now while I fight to come to terms with it myself.
Shaking me out of my thoughts, the touch of his lips to mine brings me back to the moment. The kiss is slow and deep, eliciting a stirring sensation inside of me. His lips moving to my neck has me moaning out loud and gripping his shirt.
“If you won’t let me take care of you, then let me take care of you,” he says.
Turning me so that he can place me underneath him, his lips trail down my body. I ease back, letting him guide me to something that is distracting enough to make me stop thinking.
Wanting things to be as normal as possible, I agree to go to Rowan’s St. Patrick’s Day party with Farrah.
With the surgery looming and my dad still coming to terms with it all, his house feels like a hospital lobby, and I just can’t keep holding my breath waiting for my name to be called.
I need to have fun, and I need to forget.
So here I am, wearing a Kiss Me I’m Irish shirt and some baggy pants. I know better than to dress up for Rowan’s party, just to end up drunk in a corner trying to strip out of my tight outfit.
Farrah, on the other hand, looks like she is a leprechaun. Dressed in all green, with her eyeshadow matching, she took the holiday theme to a new level.
I don’t know how she plans to maneuver in her clothes once wasted. Which is bound to happen when you try to keep up with an O’Connor. Two of them now, if Callahan is going to be here.
“Wait, who knows about me?” I stop her short of the elevator, grabbing her bag of alcohol out of her hands.
“I don’t know. I told the people you told me to tell, but I don’t know who they told.”
I gave permission for Farrah to tell our group of friends, and for reasons I’m not ready to explore, Callahan as well. But they could have told anyone.
“Crap.”
I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner, but the idea of walking into a pity party where everyone tells me how sorry they are is going to make me fight someone.
“Don’t worry. I told everyone you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Like that’s stopped anybody so far.”
“Here.” She pulls a bottle of gin out of the bag and unscrews the top.
“You know I become an entirely different person on gin,” I say.
“Exactly. Get drunk and wild, and no one will even think to talk to you about anything serious.”
I like her logic, so I take a hearty gulp of the drink and shake out the strong taste.
“Okay, let’s go,” I say.
She takes her own big sip while we wait for the elevator to come. By the time we walk into the party, we are technically three shots in and completely ready to go crazy.
Rowan actually has food at her parties, so there is a buffet of Boston classics and new favorites she’s found since moving across the country.
I indulge in enough carbs to try and offset the liquor currently pooling in my stomach.
It does little, because by the time I’m done eating, stripping actually does sound like the best idea.
To forego that, I find a solo spot and focus on my drink, trying to remind myself to be a good girl.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
I look up to see Callahan, in nothing but pants and suspenders, grinning at me with a tiny hat on his head. His bare chest and sculpted arms have me ready to jump him in the middle of this very packed apartment.
So much for not being reckless.
“Damn,” I say despite my efforts to not look impressed.
“Right back at ya.”
Having made the mistake of standing against the wall, he brings his arms up on either side of my head, intoxicating me with not only scent but his closeness.
“You going to dance with me?” he asks, bringing his face closer to mine.