Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Bex
Clutching the appointment card in my hand, I read the sign Cancer Center in bold letters. My heart hammers in my chest as I walk through the doors. I haven’t told anyone about the lump, and it’s been playing on my mind every day.
A few weeks ago, I was in the shower going through my usual routine.
My hands slid down, and there on my left breast, below my nipple, was a small bump.
At first, I didn’t think anything of it.
Hormones. Everything is down to hormones, I thought.
But after a week, it became more pronounced, and I decided I should get it checked.
Now, here I am, waiting for the results of the biopsy the doctor requested. The waiting room is filled with people of all ages. Most are here with a companion. Sometimes, it’s obvious who the patient is, and other times, it is hard to tell.
Lots of doctors and nurses stride around looking important, rushing from room to room. I approach the desk. A kind looking woman sits on the other side. She’s probably in her mid-forties, but is so short, I notice she has two cushions to help her gain a bit of height.
Smiling, she takes my name and introduces herself as Sandra. She’s the patient coordinator for the center. If I have any questions, just ask. I take a seat and wait for my name to be called.
Scrolling aimlessly through my phone, looking at pictures of Liam, I can’t help but tear up. He’s my world, and, if this is serious, I have no idea how we will cope. Part of me is relieved that Ben has come into his life, but another part is resentful of any time with Liam he steals.
“Rebecca Corrigan,” the doctor calls. It takes me a minute to realize it is me he’s looking for. No one calls me Rebecca except my parents, and since Liam was born, our contact is limited.
They believed I shouldn’t have continued with the pregnancy. It wasn’t right to bring a child into a single-parent household. We’ve never truly moved past it. How do you forgive someone for wishing your son away?
I stand and follow the doctor into the room, my heart racing. He’s an older gentleman, his hairline receding, and he sports a gray mustache. Round face, rosy cheeks, and a warm smile describe him perfectly. He immediately puts me at ease.
“Please take a seat, Mrs. Corrigan,” he says, gesturing to a black leather sofa.
I nod, then follow his instructions.
“It’s Miss, actually. I’m not married.” I’ve no idea why I correct him. This happens all the time, and it never bothers me. Names have become more important recently. Ben asked me to consider adding his name to Liam’s birth certificate.
Liam Corrigan Jones. I’m not sure how I feel about that. He hasn’t pushed, but it’s a monumental step.
The doctor introduces himself as Doctor Roy. He wasn’t who I met previously, but seemingly, he’s been assigned my case file.
“Do you live on your own?” he asks, fishing for information. I shake my head, and he relaxes.
“No, I have a son. He’s seven.”
The doctor’s mouth turns to a grim line but loosens almost automatically as if he caught himself making a face he didn’t want to. I see him steel himself. Then, he starts to speak.
“I’m sorry to tell you, Miss Corrigan, the lump on your breast is cancerous. As far as we can tell, it’s not spread further, but you’ll require treatment.”
He lets me take in the diagnosis before continuing. Despite expecting it, my shock is plain to see. He leans forward and squeezes my hand.
“We’ll do everything we can to beat this.” His voice is strong as he speaks. Optimistic. “We’ve caught this in time. You fight from now.”
The dam breaks, and I burst into tears. He stands and presses a buzzer. Two nurses appear at the door.
“Can you please support Miss Corrigan? Give her a cup of tea. I’ll come back in half an hour to go through the treatment plan.”
The nurses both nod, and Doctor Roy leaves, away to distribute more terrible news to someone else, no doubt.
Upon leaving the hospital, I have a new wave of determination. I look for the new car I treated myself to a few weeks ago. It’s a bright-red MINI Cooper, something I wanted for years.
Now that Ben is involved in Liam’s life, there’s a little more breathing room.
My teacher’s salary is adequate. We have a comfortable life, but it’s been a benefit to have more disposable income.
I was able to buy him new trainers the other week, designer ones, something I’d never have splashed out on before.
I toss my bag into the trunk and climb into the driver’s seat.
The past hour was brutal discussing my treatment, all the possible outcomes, good and bad.
I’m terrified. Terrified of death. Terrified of leaving Liam motherless so young.
Of missing school pickups, scraped knees, and bedtime songs. Of not seeing who Liam becomes.
I decide to block it all out by turning up the radio full blast and opening the windows, cruising through the traffic toward home with music filling the streets and the wind whipping my hair around my face.
They told me they’ll email me with my date for surgery to remove the lump.
Afterwards, I need to attend the clinic every day for a week.
The operation can be done with only one overnight stay, which means I can arrange for Ben to have Liam.
No one needs to know. I can just stay out of everyone’s way while I recover.
Telling my friends and family doesn’t seem like an option. I want to keep this to myself.
***
It’s a Monday morning, and I was told to be at the clinic by eight. Ben has Liam for the next few days. I lied, saying there was a training course for work.
The waiting room is empty except for one woman sitting, reading a book.
She’s wearing thick, dark glasses, lost in the words on the page.
I sit across from her, and she glances up.
She’s in her forties, curvy with a mass of curly blonde hair.
Her huge eyes look me over, then she smiles with bright-red lips.
“That bastard C got you, too, huh?” She winks. “What bit of you are they cutting off?” I laugh at the unexpected joke, then immediately relax.
Katie Clark is an erotic romance author, childless and divorced.
This is her third rumble with the disease.
We chat about ourselves for a while. She’s extremely easy to talk to, and I find myself starting to feel better.
The nurse comes and calls her name. She toddles off behind her in her tall, dark heels.
“See you on the other side, Bex,” she calls over her shoulder.
Then it is my turn to be summoned, and I walk off toward the unknown.
***
I wake, drowsy but relieved to be breathing. Relief surges through my body, and I smile.
“You took your time waking up.” A sharp voice startles me. I open my eyes to find Katie sitting at my side. “You’ve been asleep for twenty hours.”
I smell something that makes me sick to my stomach, then I spot her bag of cheese and onion crisps.
“Urgh, can you take them away? They stink,” I moan. She laughs but continues chewing. “What are you doing here?” I ask, feeling as though I’m in the Twilight Zone.
“Shared room, what do you think? This ain’t The Ritz. You want your own room, go private.” I go to sit up, but my head spins. “Slow down. Let me call the nurse,” she scolds.
Picking up the remote from the side, she presses the red button, and a light above my bed flicks on.
Around five minutes later, a nurse wanders in, clearly in no rush.
“She’s awake,” Katie states, waving her hands at me.
The nurse ignores her, but smiles. “How are you feeling, dear?”
I have no idea how old she is, but she looks far too young to be calling me dear. She helps me sit up and supports me by stuffing what feels like a hundred pillows around my back.
“I’m okay. My head feels fuzzy though. Where’s my phone?” I panic. I haven’t spoken to Liam. The nurse opens a drawer on the bedside cabinet and pulls out my cell. Three missed calls from Ben and a good night message from Liam. The guilt hits hard.
My head feels like a drummer has been hammering on it. I’ve never had a great reaction to anaesthesia. The nurse excuses herself, saying she’ll return with some tea and toast, which right now, sounds amazing. My stomach rumbles loudly, and Katie laughs.
“Welcome to the C World," she says and smirks.
***
From the outside, there’s nothing that says I’ve spent forty-eight hours in the hospital. If I don’t try to move quickly, I look perfectly normal.
Ben’s dropping Liam off around six so he can have his dinner, then bed. I only got home an hour ago. They’re due any minute. I can’t wait to see them. My mind corrects me; you can’t wait to see Liam. But I must admit, seeing Ben makes my heart race.
Before we left the hospital, Katie and I exchanged numbers, and we’ve been messaging constantly.
During our short friendship, I seem to have told her everything about myself and listened to her life story.
It’s as if I’ve known her forever. We’re on the same schedule of treatment, so we will be seeing each other regularly.
Her conversation has been a savior these past few days. I can see us becoming good friends.
She has a wicked personality, calling a spade a spade. Her motto is speak truly, speak freely, kick ass. I think I may adopt it as my own.
We discussed my relationship with Ben from the beginning. She thinks it sounds like a cliché romance. Star-crossed lovers, torn apart by loyalty.
“So let me get this straight,” Katie said between bites of toast. “He knocked you up, disappeared, came back years later, fell for the kid, and is now trying to atone with Lego sets and tea parties? Girl… that’s either penance or a man trying to rewrite the ending.”
I laughed so hard when she described our relationship in those terms that I’d coughed my coffee all over the bedsheets. The nurse was not too pleased with having to change them.
“He knows that’s not possible,” I said, dismissing her.
“Why not?” she asked, fixing me with a look.
“Because I don’t believe people change. Not really.” But even as I say the words, I know he’s starting to prove me wrong.
“If you don’t believe people change. Why do you watch him so closely?”
This time, I had no response for her. No denial.
I watch him because I care. But I didn’t say that; I just snapped my mouth closed.
The doorbell buzzes, and I walk as quickly as my broken body will allow. Within minutes, my son’s little arms are wrapped around me, and I’m holding my boy as close to me as I can.
“Oh, I’ve missed you. I love you so much, sweetheart,” I whisper into his hair, and a tear runs down my cheek.
He giggles. “Don’t be a silly sausage, Mummy. I haven’t been away long.” I glance up to see Ben watching me intently.
“What have you boys been up to?” I smile. “Enjoying the good weather?”
“Daddy and I have been walking in the woods. We tried to find a Gruffalo, but we couldn’t. Then we went to the pond and caught tadpoles; they are starting to grow legs!” His voice is animated with childish excitement as he tells me about his time with his father.
I watch him with our son—gentle, patient, fully present. Not the man who once left me broken in my apartment. Not the ghost who disappeared for years. This Ben is… different. This Ben makes blanket forts and packs fruit in lunchboxes. This Ben reads bedtime stories in silly voices.
Every week, he sends a photo of Liam. Just one. Never asks for praise, never pushes. Just… shows up. Consistently. Like the man he’s trying to be.
And for the first time in years, I don’t know how to protect myself from him.
Every part of me wants to believe in this version of him. But belief is dangerous. Belief got me into this mess the first time
“Did you enjoy your course?” he asks. “Where did you say it was again?”
His eyes are soft but searching. He knows, knows something isn’t right. Maybe not everything, but enough. And suddenly, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this to myself. Or even if he’ll let me. Or even if I want to.
I consider it. Consider telling him it all right now. It would be good to offload on someone, for someone else to know. But I don’t. Because he isn’t here for me. He’s here for Liam. This isn’t his battle to fight.