8. Earth to Nik? #2
“Nikusha, what a pleasant surprise. How are you?” She asks in Russian. There’s shuffling and voices in the background.
“Mama, are you okay? You usually answer right away…” I respond in Russian. “Where are you?”
For a moment her voice sounds muffled, like she’s holding the phone away from her mouth and speaking to someone else. “Hold on a second dear,” she answers instead.
I tap my foot on the floor, expelling nervous energy.
Mama being sick again spikes my anxiety in a way it hasn’t since Daria died, or since Mama’s first round with cancer.
I try not to think about how hard those times in my life had been.
All the disastrous choices I made that led me to where I’m at today.
Coaching dancers instead of actually being one.
“Sorry, Synulya, that was Rosie, one of the nurses here at the clinic,” she explains. “I’m getting my first round of chemo, which is why I didn’t answer right away.”
I let out a breath. “You didn’t tell me you were starting chemo today.” I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I’m not mad at her, but I don’t understand why she’s being secretive.
“You have so much going on at the company,” more shuffling sounds in the background. “I was going to tell you later today.” She lets out a cough that sounds like she’s trying to hide it. “So what did you call for? You had a question?”
“Right…” I force myself not to let the coughing worry me.
The chemo always makes Mama nauseous. I wish she would’ve told me so I could’ve been there with her.
“Lily came to me this morning and said that Evelyn and Richard invited us to dinner tonight.” I pick a piece of lint from my sweat pants.
“But if you’re not feeling well, I can see if she’s able to resched—”
“No, don’t do that. I’m quite alright, Nik. Let Lily know that it would be lovely to go to dinner tonight.”
I pause briefly, a question nagging me in the back of my mind. “You haven’t told them.” I don’t bother explaining what I mean, because she already knows.
Mama sighs. “No, I haven’t told Evelyn yet.”
“Why not? The last time you went through this, everyone was by your side. What’s so different now?”
There’s a long pause on the other side until she says, “I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it, can’t you understand, Nik?” Her voice comes out barely above a whisper.
No, I can’t understand. It doesn’t make sense to me why the best mother, wife, worker, and friend has to go through this again.
It never occurs to me why she’s hiding it.
Why any of this is happening at all. I’ve been praying, and while I trust God’s timing, it makes me nervous to not feel total peace over the situation.
I know it’s my anxiety and my overthinking of the situation.
I fully trust God in this, but knowing what I can lose makes my stomach churn.
“Of course,” I settle for instead. “I’ll let Lily know, and I’ll come pick you up from the clinic.”
“Thank you,” she says, tension leaving her voice. “I’ll text you the address. I love you, Nikusha. Never forget it.”
“I won’t—love you, Mamochka,” I say, ending the call.
Just as I pull my phone away from my ear, Lily saunters toward me, rubbing a small white towel over the back of her neck.
“Was that Mama Rina? What did she say?” Lily balls the towel between her hands. “Tell me she said yes.”
I slide my phone into my pocket. “She did.”
Lily flings her arms around my neck. “Yay! I’ll go let my mom know. She’s going to be thrilled.” She unhooks her arms from my neck and skips her way toward the door, probably in search of her phone.
A few dancers give me amused looks. Lily always has unintentional ways of making people smile, even if it’s at my expense.
I shove my empty water bottle into my bag, say goodbye to a few dancers, and make my way out of the studio.
When I reach the front lobby, Robin gestures me over to her desk, and hands me my schedule for next week.
Each day progressively gets busier, meaning any time I planned on taking Mama to appointments just vanished.
I know the beginning of a new season is busy.
I should’ve expected my schedule to be jam packed, but it’s not like I factored in the part where my time has to be split.
I wave goodbye to Robin, and step through the glass doors, and am met with the soft breeze of afternoon air.
I stop on the first step of the stairs and let my eyes close.
I listen to the rustling of the leaves, and the hum of traffic from across the street.
This new season I’m stepping into is going to be difficult.
Everywhere I look change is happening. Mama, my time, past anxieties rearing their heads, new dancers.
I don’t know what’s going to come in the next few months, and whenever I feel this unsure, I know I need to pray.
Lord, I’m not sure what the future holds, but I trust Your guidance.
Please, help me have faith in Your Word, and the courage and strength to accept Your answers.
Allow me to trust that You are working all things for Your good.
Give me peace and clarity as I navigate this season You have me in. Amen.
When I reach my car, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Mama texted me the clinic’s address.
I enter it into my maps and start driving toward her.
I pray the entire way. Pray that Mama will be healed, just like the first time. Pray that dinner tonight will go well. I know Evelyn and Richard will be devastated when they hear about Mama’s diagnosis.
Trees blur past the windows, the GPS speaking softly in the background. The breeze picks up, and leaves drift freely through the air. My thoughts spiral, everything colliding at once. I shake my head gently and whisper one final prayer… that tonight, I will have the strength to keep moving forward.