Chapter 3
CARI
I leave the office only forty minutes later than usual, which counts as a small miracle given the mountain of tasks Jett threw at me today. Tomorrow, I know he’ll have another list waiting, and the cycle will repeat.
Normally, I can handle it. I’ve always been good at my job—efficient, quick, a step ahead. But lately, focus has been harder to come by. My mom’s illness weighs on me constantly, like a storm cloud hovering over every thought, every action.
The memory of the day of her diagnosis is sharp, vivid, like it happened yesterday. Just over a year ago, she came home from the hospital after weeks of bloating and exhaustion that she’d brushed off as stress-related. I’m so grateful for this job, for being able to add my mom to the great health insurance that made it possible for my mom to go to Mount Sinai Hospital. I’ll never forget the way she sat me down, took my hands in hers, and said the words that split my world in two: late-stage ovarian cancer.
Even now, I can feel the shock rippling through me. Her smile faltered only for a second before she hugged me, whispering, we’ll get through this. It’s going to be fine.
I wanted so badly to believe her. But the surgery didn’t remove enough of the tumor, and four months of chemo left her weak and barely responsive. It wasn’t until a month ago, when she was accepted into a clinical trial, that hope began to flicker again.
It’s expensive—of course it is—and the extra medication she needs costs more than I’d make in a year. I was sure they'd added a couple of extra zeroes to the figure. This particular trial was exclusive and in its early recruitment phases. I begged the powers that be to allow my mom to participate. The doctor must have relented, likely influenced by my breakdown—I was in hysterics, breaking down on the phone as I pleaded with him.
Jett might have overheard my frantic calls, but if he did, he never said a word. He just let me work through it, and never complained about the time I took for personal matters.
For all of his arrogance, he was… kind about it.
I was desperate enough to think I’d sell my soul if it meant saving her.
And then, somehow, it all worked out.
The trial was covered, and my mom was enrolled within days. I have no idea how it happened. Maybe my breakdown softened someone’s heart. Maybe someone upstairs decided to throw us a bone.
Now, as I step off the subway and make my way to the apartment, I hold onto that fragile hope. She’s going to get better. She has to get better.
The old apartment still feels like home, even though I moved out well before her diagnosis. Back then, it was me, Mom, and Aunt Scarlett—a chaotic but close-knit trio. I never knew my dad. He left when I was four months old, and Mom raised me on her own. Aunt Scarlett came and went as she pleased, her wild, nomadic life fitting seamlessly into our family dynamic.
Aunt Scarlett is a lot younger than my mom. She's free-spirited , and doesn't like being tethered down in any way, although she's got a hot new boyfriend who's a few years younger than her. She met him while working as a freelance photographer, so now they travel around a lot together.
Now, it’s just Mom and Aunt Scarlett together in the apartment since I moved out. But with mom’s illness, I wish more than ever that I hadn’t left. Mom used to work as an office administrator for a legal firm but she had to give up her job because she was so ill. When she had chemo she was throwing up a lot and feeling constantly weak and tired.
But Aunt Scarlett stepped in and is taking some time off of work and travel to be there for my mom. I appreciate her so much. Between us we make sure mom is taken care of, and we hold one another up when mom is sleeping, which is when our worries creep in like cockroaches, jarring our lives, scaring us to death.
What if mom doesn't get better? It's always there, a niggling, tiny seed of doubt, its tendrils snaking through my mind.
But I always shut it down.
I often tell mom that I’d like to move back in, and I’m sure Eliana will find another roommate, but my mom doesn’t want that. She's glad I moved out, and she encourages me to enjoy myself and have fun.
I sometimes feel like Aunt Scarlett and my mom are in cahoots and they don't always tell me everything. I sense that they don't want to burden me with my mom's illness.
But she's my mom. She's my everything—the only parent I have, and she means the world to me. She had an infusion yesterday and it makes her feel weak, which I'm told is normal. I can't wait for this to be over with, for the treatment to work and my mom to be well again.
I'm on my way to see my mom now, even though I'm meant to be meeting my friends, Eliana and Bianca, for drinks tonight. Eliana and I have a small place we rent together, and Bianca lives with her boyfriend.
The three of us are supposed to be going away for a long weekend soon, along with our boyfriends. We’ve booked a nice, cozy cabin and are planning to go snowshoeing or hiking, visit the Christmas markets, and snuggle up by the fireplace with hot toddies and wine while playing board games and binge-watching Netflix. I was looking forward to it. I needed a break, something to take my mind off things, something that would give me time and space to breathe.
I asked to meet up with them tonight, but now I wish I’d canceled. The thing is, I’ve got something important to tell them—something that impacts our weekend away. Or rather, my weekend. I pull out my phone and send a text.
Sorry, can't meet tonight. Can we move to tomorrow?
I want to tell them I can't come with them because I broke up with Rory. Ever since my mom got ill, he hasn't been there for me when I so badly needed support. Love isn’t supposed to be like that. You're meant to lean on each other even harder in times of need. He’s not the guy I thought he was, so I ended things. And to my surprise, he took it better than expected. I’m too exhausted to be heartbroken over it. My nerves are frayed, and my attention is fragmented. With the uncertainty of the coming months, it’s all become too much.
When I step inside the apartment, the familiar smell of Aunt Scarlett’s cooking greets me. But the sight of my mom, frail and pale in her chair, breaks my heart.
“Mom!” I rush over, stopping myself just short of hugging her too tightly. Instead, I rest my hands on the arms of her chair and lean in to kiss her cheek.
Her voice is soft but warm. “Hi, sweetheart. How was work?”
I sink to the floor beside her chair. “Busy, as usual. Jett has me running around like crazy and doing a million things.”
She smiles faintly. “Still working you hard, is he?”
I nod, brushing my hand over hers. Her fingers feel thinner than I remember. Her eyes look more sunken. “He brought me lunch, though. From my favorite deli.”
“The one with the pastrami sandwiches?” Aunt Scarlett chimes in, walking into the room with her ever-present energy.
“That’s the one,” I say, grinning. “Sorry I didn’t save you any.”
Aunt Scarlett waves it off, but Mom’s gaze softens. “That was thoughtful of him.” Her voice is tinged with something I can’t quite name.
“He’s still my boss. Mom! Don’t turn this into a he’s secretly a good guy thing.” She seems to think Jett Knight is a knight in shining armor, even when I've told her how arrogant he can be, and demanding, and impatient. She always reminds me of the bonuses he's given me, the pay raises, and how, lately, he's been so accommodating regarding her illness. He often tells me to take time off without marking it as a vacation day, especially when I need to leave early or go in late due to hospital appointments.
“He might be,” she says simply, but there’s a knowing glint in her tired eyes.
Aunt Scarlett snorts. “Men like him don’t do thoughtful without a reason.”
“Thank you,” I say, relieved someone sees it my way.
But Mom just smiles again, her gaze drifting somewhere far away.
A soft knock at the door pulls us from the moment. Aunt Scarlett rises to answer it, and I glance at my phone. No texts from my friends.
Aunt Scarlett returns with them in tow. “Surprise!” she announces.
“But I cancelled—” I exclaim.
“We thought you might,” Aunt Scarlett says with a grin. The girls are already bounding in, hugging me and fussing over my mom. “I don’t want you changing your plans on account of me,” mom says.
"You've just had an IV transfusion!" I protest.
"Life has to go on, Cari." My mom’s voice is soft and thoughtful, but I feel like there's a message in there somewhere. Like she's trying to prepare me for the worst, which I won’t accept. No way.
Eliana shrugs, her chestnut brown curls fall over her shoulders like a cape. “Aunt Scarlett called and said you needed some fun. We’re going out.” It’s funny how my friends have taken to calling her Aunt Scarlett, too.
“I didn’t—” I stop myself. Of course they’d conspire behind my back.
The girls’ chatter fills the room, lightening the mood. Bianca plops onto the couch, raking her hand through her short blue hair, and my gaze takes in the butterfly tattoo on her wrist. Eliana perches beside her. For a moment, I watch them with my mom, grateful for their warmth.
But when the time comes to leave with them for dinner, I hesitate.
“Go,” Mom says firmly, squeezing my hand.
"But you made dinner," I wail to Aunt Scarlett.
"Why don’t we all have dinner here?" I suggest.
My mom doesn’t go out much. She's conscious of her fragility, and she's not thrilled by her thinning hair or sallow skin. She also doesn't have the energy to do much, but I'm hopeful that after a few months, her treatment will be successful and we can all go back to how things were before.
"I'd rather you go out with your friends, honey," my mom says.
"No, Mom, I want to stay with you."
"No, sweetheart, I'm don't want to be a burden."
I press her hand gently. “You're not a burden to me, Mom, you're not well."
Aunt Scarlett places her hands on my shoulders. "Your mom is in good hands. Go out, have drinks, talk."
My friends are already getting ready to leave. "Nice seeing you, Laura," they say to my mom.
"I really don't want to leave you, mom."
My mom starts to say something, then coughs, and I hold my breath. She clasps her hand to her chest, then it takes a while. "Please go out, Cari. Have a nice dinner and catch up with your friends. I’m fine, sweetheart, and I’ll still be here tomorrow.”
Reluctantly, I stand. “And every day after that,” I whisper, fighting the bittersweet ache rising in my chest.
Aunt Scarlett hands me my coat. “We made tacos. I’ll save you some for tomorrow.”
I kiss them both and leave, my heart heavy but full.
They don’t know about Rory yet. I expect my mom will be upset to learn that I broke up with him. She’s worried about me being alone and that I need someone to get through this with.
This being her illness, and someone being Rory.
But I have my group of women who I love. And they are enough.
***
I wait until we've finished our pizza and ordered dessert.
Bianca regales us with a rundown of her day at the thrift shop she works at, and the interesting characters she often meets. Eliana is drinking lots of wine. As a freelance graphic designer, she’s often stressed about finding clients, and then doing the best job she can for them, so that they’ll call her for their next project. She’s just finished a project and is slowing down and relaxing. Probably looking forward to our long weekend away. I feel bad for the news I’m about to deliver.
“I can’t come with you guys to the Catskills,” I blurt, setting my glass down with a clink.
Bianca pauses mid-sip of her beer, her nose ring catching the light. Eliana raises an eyebrow while clutching her wine glass.
“You what now?” Her dark, mesmerizing eyes widening with shock.
“I broke up with Rory.” I feel a sense of relief in telling them. They both stare, then erupt into questions and exclamations. They say all the right things, but don't seem particularly surprised. They're more sad that I can't join them on the weekend away.
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Bianca says, crossing her arms. “That guy never deserved you.”
Eliana nods. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” I mumble. “He just … wasn’t there for me. Not with everything going on.”
“He’s always been self-centered,” Bianca says.
"I won't miss Rory," Eliana says, "If I'm being honest."
"He was nice enough," I say. “But he wasn’t enough . I needed more from him.” I broke up with him over the phone. I'd had another difficult day at the office, and Aunt Scarlett told me mom had been throwing up and could barely get out of bed. I called Rory because I needed him. I needed him to lean on, but he mumbled something about hoping my mom would get better, then said he had to go because he was running late for squash.
“You’ve got us, babe.” Bianca sets down her spoon and clasps her hand over mine.
“Yeah, you’ve got us and you’re never getting rid of us,” Eliana chimes in. "You think Jett Knight will come in and save the day?" She winks at me.
Bianca giggles.
I groan as they exchange a knowing look before collapsing into laughter. “Don’t start.”
Bianca grins. “Imagine him in the Catskills. Hiking boots, campfire stories…”
"Roughing it with a knapsack," Bianca adds.
I roll my eyes, relieved when the server sets down our chocolate fudge brownies with ice cream.
"Stop it," I say, laughing despite myself.
They love ribbing me about my silly, stupid crush on my boss, but hearing them say it out loud makes me realize just how insane it really is. They might be joking, but they’re closer to the truth than I’d like to admit.
Because for all Rory lacked, Jett Knight is no better.