8. Ben
ben
. . .
A ll my life I have considered myself to be fearless. On the very first vacation I took with the Jameses, Quinn taught me how to surf. I was a mess. I could barely sit on the board, let alone stand without falling off. I kept trying, and everyone kept teaching. Liam, Harrison, Elle, and Eden. It was a humbling experience learning from someone who was a little girl at the time, but it was her lesson . . . well more her board that allowed me to stand and ride a wave. The trick was the smaller board. Something I could easily navigate. Sure, I continued to fall but I persevered and learned how to surf like everyone else in my family.
Who were my family.
I hate thinking about the Jameses, the Westburys, and the Davises in the past tense, but the truth of the matter is they’re not going to go out of their way to invite me to family functions or outings. Especially once Elle moves on, which I know she’ll do. I expect her to. Once she does, I’ll be an afterthought, despite Quinn telling me otherwise.
The waves of the Pacific Ocean roll onto the shore. It’s early in the morning and surfers wait for the perfect wave to ride back onto shore. My surfboard is next to me, with my ankle strap secured tightly. I decided to forgo my wetsuit this morning because what do I need it for? I’ve convinced myself that I’m dying because I have cancer.
I have fucking cancer.
And in all places . . . my manhood.
I no longer feel fearless.
Someone yells my name. It’s my neighbor. He’s a young kid and he designed one of the most popular video games and made a boatload of money. I only see him in the mornings though, because he’s always holed up in his house, working on the software. Quinn and I play his game every now and again, but it’s not really our thing.
Gill sits down next to me. He’s the silent type and has admitted to me on numerous occasions he doesn’t have a lot of friends. I get it. It’s hard to find trustworthy people to keep in your inner circle.
“How’s the gaming world?” I finally ask to break the silence.
“Competitive. I think I have to sue someone for copying my idea.”
“Dude, that sucks.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “Wanna ride?” he motions toward the surf.
“Nah, I think I’m a looker today. Not feeling it.”
“I hear ya.”
We’re silent again, just the two of us watching the others surf. Some of the people out there really make it look so easy. I’m a novice at best.
“Hey, whatever happened to that surfer chick you and Elle hang out with?”
“Eden?”
“Yeah, her. What’s she up to these days?”
I shrug. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Elle and I broke up.”
“No shit?”
I nod, unable to answer due to a knot forming in my throat.
“Wow, I thought you two were in it for the long haul.”
Same, but I realize I knew better. Deep down, I think Elle needs someone on her level, in her circle, and not the high school crush she realized she couldn’t live without after I left.
“Damn, man. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Life is definitely an adjustment without her around.” I don’t know what else to say. Do I tell Gill I have cancer? That I might not be around for a bit or I might end up moving because there’s no way I can afford this house by myself, and Elle isn’t going to let me freeload off of her?
“If you need to talk, come on over.”
“Thanks, Gill. I appreciate it.”
“My sister is always telling her friends there are a lot of fish out there.” He points to the ocean. “I don’t get it because who wants a fish? I thought we were all supposed to be frogs or some shit. Anyway, I’m sorry about you and Elle.” He stands and shakes my hand. “Let’s hang this week.”
“For sure. Be safe out there.”
“You too, man.” Gill is on his board in a matter of seconds and paddling out into the surf. I wish I could do it—be brave. Be the person Elle pictures me as, but I’m not.
I’m weak.
I’m sick.
I’m alone.
I know I’m at a crossroads. I can get up, wipe the sand off my ass, and go deal with what I can deal with, or I can wallow in self-pity. I broke up with Elle and I did so for a reason. I need to accept it. She’s reached out and it’s about time I return one of her many messages. Sighing heavily, I finally stand, grab my board and head back to the house. I’ll text Elle today and ask for a meeting. The thought makes me chuckle and shake my head. I need to schedule a meeting with my ex because of how busy she is. So, probably sometime in a month or so, she’ll squeeze me in, and we’ll figure out what to do with the house.
After I clean off in the outside shower, I head into my bedroom, put on some clean clothes, and make my way into the kitchen. When I bypass the mirror in the hallway, I have to do a double take.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I look at myself. The bags under my eyes are so dark, I look like I have two black eyes. Did Gill not notice, or did he just not care? Despite being out in the sun for over an hour, I’m as pale as a ghost. Nope, strike that. My eyes are bloodshot, so I’m definitely a vampire. It’s not even Halloween and my costume is ready.
Great. There is no way I can meet with Elle looking like this. She’ll know right away something’s wrong, and I have no intentions of ever telling her what’s going on. I don’t want her pity and that’s exactly what she’ll give me.
I finally make my way into the kitchen and stare into the empty refrigerator. Elle stopped sending groceries about two weeks ago. Can’t say I blame her. Why spend money on someone who doesn’t want you? The thing is, I want her, but not in the way she can offer. I need more from her than she’s capable of giving.
The doorbell sounds and I groan. I hope it’s Instacart, but it’s very unlikely, and unless I order my own food, I’m not eating any time soon. Being single is for the birds. I open the door and my jaw hits the floor.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um . . . nothing. What are you doing here?”
“There’s something wrong, I can see it in your face.” My mother steps in and cups my cheek. “A mother knows things,” she says. “I had a feeling something was wrong and knew I needed to come. Now, tell me.”
I say nothing as she lets herself in. She tugs an extra-large suitcase behind her. Great, she’s planning on staying. It’s a good thing Elle isn’t here because there’s no way in hell, she’d let my mom stay here longer than a day or two. They get along, but my mom has a different view of the Jameses, and it’s not favorable.
“Please, come in,” I mutter as I close the door.
“Doesn’t Elle ever clean?”
This is why I don’t do much with my mother. She’s snide and doesn’t treat Elle with much respect.
“It’s not Elle’s job to clean the house.”
“Well, doesn’t she hire someone?”
My head goes back and forth slowly. Thankfully, she can’t see me because she’s facing the couch.
“Where do I put my stuff?”
“Um, third bedroom on the right.”
“It’s clean, right?”
Cleaner than anything you live in. “Sure.”
My mom disappears down the hall. I can hear her grumbling about something, but I’m too tired to care. She can’t stay here; even though Elle’s not here, my mom can’t be here. She’s going to end up saying something to piss me off and I don’t have the energy to deal with her right now.
“So, where is the princess?”
“Work, I guess.”
“What do you mean, ‘you guess?’” She’s not looking at me but rummaging through the stack of mail on my coffee table. Damn, she’s nosy. “What’s this?” She holds up the appointment card for my oncologist appointment tomorrow.
“It’s nothing.” I try to take it away, but she moves it to her other hand and out of my reach.
“I’m not dumb, Benjamin. I know what oncology means. This has your name on it. Why?”
I shrug and look at her. “Because I have testicular cancer and have to meet with the oncologist tomorrow to find out what my options are.”
Telling my mom is one of the biggest mistakes of my life. No, that’s not entirely true. I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes recently, and this one is definitely moving to the top of the list. I suppose I should be happy I have some support, but she hovers. She’s nitpicky and asking questions I don’t have the answers to or care to know. The why, how, when, and anything else she can think of just keep coming and I need her to be quiet.
Why this doctor and not this one?
Why this clinic?
How did you get cancer?
When will this go away?
Did I read the reviews on the clinic? On the doctor?
People in the waiting room look annoyed and I don’t blame them. “Mom, please stop.”
“I have questions. I’m allowed to ask them.”
“You are, but not here.”
She huffs and flips through one of the twenty magazines she bought in the gift shop. Well, the ones she made me pay for. Nothing like piling a bunch of things on top of the counter and then looking at your son expectedly. What a great feeling.
John walks into the waiting room and my mood changes. I’m happy to see him. I know we’ve just met but I feel like he’s my only advocate right now. I introduce him to my mom, and he sits down next to me.
“It’s good that you told your mom.”
“I didn’t have a choice, she showed up at my place and rummaged through the stuff on my coffee table.”
Realization crosses his face, and he nods. My mother was an okay mom. She worked hard to keep a roof over our heads, but she was never motherly. She didn’t care what Brad and I did, just as long as we didn’t get arrested. When I started hanging out with Elle, my mom expected to be brought into the family. She wanted all the perks of being friends with the Jameses and was rather put off when I never invited her to things. On the few occasions she’s been around Harrison, she’s made a complete fool of herself.
My name’s called and the three of us stand. “Oh, we don’t need you,” my mother says to John.
I shake my head. “John’s coming. He’s a friend.”
“But—”
But nothing. With John next to me, I head toward the nurse. She smiles at us, greets John, and asks how I’m feeling. It’s a hard question to answer because technically, I feel fine, other than the symptoms my mind has conjured up because my brain keeps telling me I have cancer.
We sit in the oncologist’s office, and I stare at all his diplomas on the wall. There are so many, and it makes me wonder how he decided this was going to be his line of work. When he comes in, he greets us, and sits down with a file in front of him.
“Ben, I’ve spent some time looking through your bloodwork and scans, and after consulting with a couple of my colleagues, we’re on the same page in saying surgery is absolutely necessary, followed by chemotherapy and possibly radiation. We’re going to remove both testicles and lymph nodes, and then start you on an aggressive treatment plan. We’ll monitor with scans regularly to make sure this plan is working, and if it isn’t, we’ll change it.”
“You’re going to remove both of my . . .” I can’t even bring myself to say the word.
Doc nods. “It’s the best option. With that said, I’ve made you an appointment with our fertility specialists.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For when you’re ready to be a father,” he says. “This treatment will affect your ability to have children.”
“Oh, Elle isn’t going to like this one bit,” my mom blurts out. “Why isn’t she here, anyway? And why didn’t she come home last night?”
I close my eyes and lean my head onto my hand, dragging it over my face in frustration. I should’ve told her to stay in the waiting room while I dealt with this, but I didn’t want her to make a scene.
“How soon can we get Ben into the fertility clinic?” John asks.
“They’re waiting for his call. It’s not something we force, but highly recommend. Ben, you’re young and while children might not be at the forefront of your mind right now, they might be later. Is Elle your partner?”
“His fiancée,” my mother says. “But she’s busy, ya know. Her dad is famous and all.”
“Mom, please stop talking.”
“Just stating some facts. She should be here. Elle will flip if you don’t have any baby making stuff left.”
“Brenda, why don’t you come with me,” John says as he stands. “My friend Beulah makes the best apple pie on the planet, and I hear she has some in the cafeteria. Let’s go grab a slice.”
As soon as the door closes, I feel relieved. I bend over and inhale deeply, only for tears to form. “I’m sorry,” I tell the doctor. “My mother is . . . I don’t have words. She just showed up yesterday, out of the blue.”
“And your partner?”
“We broke up. She doesn’t know I have cancer.”
“Well, that’s certainly none of our business. You’re our concern, Ben. You can harvest your sperm or not. It’s your choice. Like I said when John asked, the clinic is waiting for your call. We’re going to schedule your surgery for next week, so this gives you some time to make a decision.”
“Thank you.” I stand, we shake hands, and he gives me a stack of information for me to read through.
After I catch up with John and my mother, she and I head back to the house. Once there, she rants and raves about Elle.
“Mom, I need you to stop.”
“Why? Can’t she be bothered to be here for you?”
“I broke up with her, Mother. She doesn’t even know I have cancer. Stop putting this on her or blaming her or putting her down.”
“Well, you should tell her.”
“I don’t want her pity.”
“But you do want her money.”
I shake my head and head into my room. I lock the door behind me, put on my headphones and turn the music up as high as it can go. But even this doesn’t stop my mother’s voice from replaying in my mind.