Chapter 40
Lo
“Are you ready for this?” Aidan asks.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Before I turn on the laptop, I place the soy candle strategically where it will be visible in my webcam frame. Beside it rests the envelope containing my test results.
Aidan waves his hand in front of his nose. “Ugh. That thing really does smell like Fionn’s football socks.”
“I warned you.” The first night he stayed over after my biopsy, I explained that my mom had sent the candle as a more health-conscious option.
So he lit it. I told him that if he wasn’t so perfect otherwise, I would have dumped him on the spot for making my entire apartment smell like his brother’s gym bag.
The scent still lingers despite keeping the windows open for the past three nights.
The Godzilla avatar on my mom’s contact information in the chat window earns me an amused look, but Aidan doesn’t comment.
It’s no secret that I’ve avoided this conversation with my parents, thinking that I know how it will go.
But he’s taught me that sometimes people surprise you, if you allow them to.
He fusses with his hair in the little preview window for the video chat.
It’s sweet that he’s nervous, but I hate that my mom makes us both feel that way.
I scoot closer to him until we’re both in the frame and hit the call button.
“Cielo, I’ve been trying to—” She cuts herself off abruptly when she realizes Aidan is sitting next to me. “Oh dear god, you’re pregnant.”
“No, no! It’s not that. But I do need to talk to you about something important.”
I glance at my phone. To save myself the stress of going through the whole process twice, I asked my dad to join us on the chat.
He hasn’t connected yet, and I don’t blame him after I’d all but told him to leave me alone after the wedding.
But Aidan says I have to give people a chance to surprise me.
I don’t know if we’ll ever repair things, but thanks to Aidan, I now know that sometimes, with a little work and a lot of humility, it might be possible.
Aidan lifts his hand in greeting. “Hi, Mrs. Valdez.”
“Hi.” There isn’t any warmth in it. She narrows her eyes. “May I speak to my daughter alone, please?”
“Anything you have to say can be said in his company,” I say, taking his hand in mine. “And we’re waiting on one more person.”
Right on cue, the video chat chimes and my dad pops up on the screen. Just seeing his face makes my chest squeeze with guilt at not having spoken to him since the day after Lark’s wedding.
“Hey, Dad.”
Confusion and concern are etched on his face when he realizes we have company.
“Dad, you remember Aidan from the wedding?”
“Mr. Valdez, nice to see you again, sir.”
“Relax, Gus. She’s not pregnant,” my mom says.
He looks to me for explanation and I nod. “I’m not pregnant or eloping, let’s just get that out of the way.”
“I love your daughter very much. I’ll give the three of you some privacy, but I needed to tell you both that myself.”
I can’t stop wringing my hands in my lap. “Mom, Aidan is here to stay. I know it’s hard for you to see me in a relationship, but he’s earned my trust.”
She frowns. “I’m just trying to prevent you from getting hurt.” It looks like she’s glaring at my dad, but I can’t be certain through the small square of the video chat.
“But, Mom, there is no way any of us can prevent that. You act like controlling every detail of my life will somehow keep anything bad from happening, and that’s just impossible. I get it—but I’m trying to learn to let go a little.”
Moisture pools in my eyes and Aidan wraps an arm around my shoulders in support.
“I got some scary news the other day…”
My mom sits up straighter. “When you moved to the other side of the world—”
“Mom, please. Let me finish.”
Although it looks like it pains her, she respects my request.
“The bloodwork at my last appointment came back with some concerning results, so I had a biopsy.” I explain to them the timeline between the annual visit and now, and why I felt I needed to wait for a diagnosis before I said anything.
I also told them about the way Aidan surprised me by coming to my side when I needed him most—my mom’s brows pinch together as we recount the story.
My dad wipes a tear away. “I didn’t know—mija, I had no idea.”
“I’m sorry for keeping it from you,” I tell them. “The biopsy results came back today and it’s negative.”
Beside me, Aidan gives me a relieved smile. I’d have lost my mind with anxiety waiting for the results alone.
Worry still creases my mom’s brow. “What was the problem?”
“Stress, my doctor thinks. It tanked my immune system and I’d been brushing off the symptoms of an infection because I just figured stress is a part of being a med student. I’m all right, really; she started me on a course of antibiotics.”
“Do you need anything?” my dad asks. “Can you take a sabbatical? Or a semester off?”
“No, no. I’m going to be just fine. I only need your support, okay?”
This experience has inspired me to recommit myself to my well-being, including regular swims in the heated pool at the gym to manage my stress, and more open communication. Working in medicine will always involve pressure, but I won’t burn myself out before I’ve had a chance to really change lives.
My dad nods, apparently eager to prove himself.
“And, Dad? I apologize for the way I treated you the day after Lark’s wedding. I’d just been blindsided by the news and it brought up all these old feelings that have never been resolved.” I focus solely on him. “You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.”
He wipes his eyes again. “Every day, I’ve regretted not being there for my girls when they needed me. I’m so proud of the woman you are, though I can’t take credit for raising you. That was all your mother.”
My mom raises a hand to cover her mouth.
“Dad, you taught me my work ethic and you provided for us so we could focus on my healing. It’s not easy for me to forgive you for not being there…
I don’t hate you. I never did.” I turn to my mom.
“And, Mom, sometimes, I’m like you—trying to do it all on my own, all the time—but that’s not healthy for any of us.
You’ve always instilled in me the importance of self-care.
That’s what I’m working on: being gentler with myself.
Communicating what I need. Leaning on others when I need to. ”
“You can,” she assures me. “You can tell me. Lean on us.”
“We want to be here for you,” my dad adds.
Aidan swallows hard next to me, and I know I’ve struck a nerve.
We all talk for a little while longer, and my parents get to know Aidan some more.
Then my dad has to go. I make sure to tell my dad I love him before he signs off.
It’s something I regrettably didn’t do at the wedding, and life is too short to hold a grudge.
After I say goodbye to my mom, I gently close the laptop and collapse into Aidan’s arms.
All the anxiety and doubt of the past few weeks is channeled into sobs against his solid, grounding chest. We were both relieved when we learned that my test result was benign, clinging to each other in the oncologist’s office earlier this afternoon, but my catharsis was delayed.
Now that I don’t have to stay composed for the sake of my parents, the pent-up emotion is finally flowing through me.
Aidan runs his hand over my back. His eyes well with tears and I know he needed a release, too.
I kiss his cheek and the tip of his freckled nose and the dimple I missed as I climb into his lap.
It knocks him a little off balance and his elbow grazes the side table.
The candle falls onto my sofa, wafting fetid scent as it rolls across the cushion toward us.
“Can we throw this manky thing in the bin now?” Aidan asks, snatching it up.
“Please!” I hop to the other side of the couch, putting distance between me and the soy wax.
Without another word, Aidan eyes my kitchen trash from his seat on the couch, stands, and tosses the jar. My mouth drops open as it sails toward the kitchen in a high arc. To my surprise, the candle swishes cleanly through the swinging lid and into the can with a satisfying crash of broken glass.
Laughter spills out of me like I’m the one who’s been broken open.
It makes me feel alive. Aidan joins in my hysteria, wiping the mirth from his eyes. He’s my ally and my solace. When I’m with him, I feel weightless. Delirious. The most talented and beautiful man I’ve ever known. He’s mine. And I’m his.
I know, down to my soul, that what we share is real.
I won’t take this life—this gorgeous, fierce love we’ve earned—for granted again.