Chapter 9 Antonia
Antonia
The day after Miri told the kids about her diagnosis, I brought her home.
We’d heard from Dr. Frederick’s Boston colleague, whose assessment was the same.
Dr. Patricia from Dana-Farber had reviewed Miri’s scans and confirmed the diagnosis: stage IV pancreatic adenocarcinoma with metastases to liver, lungs, and breast tissue.
She agreed with the aggressive chemotherapy approach and estimated the same timeline of six to twelve months with treatment.
This wasn’t the news either of us wanted to hear, and with it, Miri decided she would do her treatment in Grove Hill, where she could stay with her kids. I didn’t blame her, but I was also angry.
At her. Health care. The world.
I was going to lose my best friend. Her kids were going to lose their mom. None of this was fair, and yet I had to paste on a happy face each time someone entered the room because reality was depressing enough.
“Even the best doctors in the world can’t change what this is,” I said to myself as I stared out the kitchen window.
My fingers tapped the countertop while I waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Miri was asleep, my mom had taken Nova to the mall, and Cutter was at his friend Flinn’s house. The quietness was unnerving, unwanted, and oddly needed.
The bean water stopped filling the pot, and I poured myself a cup, added cream, and then made my way outside to the porch. After turning on the portable heater, I sat in one of the rockers, sipped my coffee, and let my mind wander.
I needed to make a list of things that had to be done in preparation for Miri’s passing.
Approaching the inevitable, though, seemed like such a crass thing to do.
How would I sit my friend down and ask the important questions?
There was so much to do, with many of them being urgent.
It was all stuff I didn’t want to think about, yet I didn’t have a choice.
My eyes closed as my foot moved the rocker back and forth.
This was where Miri and I liked to sit and watch the sunset.
She’d always said she would buy an old farmhouse with a porch because this was exactly what she wanted: the peace and quiet of the country, but not so far away that she didn’t have services.
Miri wanted land: a place for her kids to run free and where she could grow her own vegetables.
The only thing she didn’t have, thankfully, was animals.
Although Nova desperately wanted a puppy.
As if I had conjured up a dog, a yellow one came onto the porch and headed right up to me.
“Scout!”
The dog barked and wagged its tail. Its owner appeared and gave me a wave. I waved back, recognizing him as Cutter’s coach.
“Sorry about my dog. We were out walking, and I usually let him run along the road. Miriam gives him treats when she’s out.”
“He’s not bothering me.” I scratched him behind his ear. He rested his head on my lap, and for a brief second, all my worries dissipated. How could an animal I didn’t even know ease my mind so easily?
Weston stepped onto the porch and leaned against the column. I’d meant to ask Miri more about him, but I hadn’t found the time. I got the sense she was fond of him, and maybe there was something there she hadn’t told me about yet.
“Can I get you some coffee?” The thought quickly became a question.
“Sure, I’d love some.”
I motioned for him to sit in the other rocker and excused myself. Pausing in the hall, I listened for Miri moving around upstairs. Dr. Frederick already had her on some medicine, and early next week they’d install a PICC line to administer her chemo.
In the kitchen, I pulled a tray out from under the counter and added cream and sugar containers to it. I refilled my cup and poured a mug for Weston. I searched high and low for dog treats and couldn’t find anything but took a carrot out of the refrigerator, hoping Scout liked them.
Weston was near the steps, bent over and inspecting the rotting boards.
There wasn’t a part of the house that didn’t have an issue that needed to be addressed.
I mentally added it to the long list growing in my mind.
The smartest thing would be to sell the house and put the money into a trust for the kids—if it even made a profit.
“Just another thing falling apart around me,” I said as I carried the tray to the small table between the two chairs.
“I can fix it,” he said as he sat down. Scout followed, sitting obediently next to him. The dog looked out over the yard, watching for some hidden danger only he could sense. “I’ve loaned Miriam some of my tools when she’s fixing stuff. She’ll never accept my help, though.”
“She’s stubborn. Me, not so much,” I told him. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“Duly noted.” He held his cup up. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I didn’t know what you liked and forgot to ask, so I brought cream and sugar out.”
“Black is perfect for me.”
After we sat there for a minute, drinking our coffee, I broke the silence. “Thank you for not benching Cutter. He was rather upset with me when I told him I’d spoken with you.”
“He would have to do something drastic to get benched. Not only is he one of my best players, but he’s also one of my leaders. The other players look up to him. Cutter understands the game. I depend on him a lot.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t understand any of it. All I knew was Cutter had yelled at me, telling me I had no right to tell his coach about his mom. There was no point in arguing with him. Cutter was going to be an angry teen for a very long time.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
What an open-ended question that was. I shook my head. “I don’t know whether I’m coming or going right now. Miri will start treatment next week, and then I guess I’ll figure it out from there.”
“Miri . . .” He paused after saying her nickname. “When we first met, she introduced herself as Miriam, and I’ve never heard of anyone calling her Miri. Not even her friends in town.”
“It’s my nickname for her. I had trouble saying her name when I was younger and have always called her Miri.”
“It suits her. She never mentioned that she had a sister.”
“We’re not related,” I told him. “We’ve been best friends since we were little.”
“Ah.” He nodded and took a sip of his coffee.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” I took the carrot off the tray and showed it to Weston. “Can Scout have this?”
He laughed. “I was wondering if that was for him but didn’t want to assume. Scout would love it.”
I called Scout over, and without me asking, he sat and held up his paw for me to shake. I held the vegetable out in front of him, and he took it gently from me. “He’s such a good boy.”
“That he is. I wasn’t looking for a dog until I met him. It was love at first sight.”
“Nova wants a dog,” I said for no other reason than to continue the conversation.
“Having one might help her cope with what’s going on.”
“Yeah, but everything’s so up in the air.”
“Can I ask what happens to the kids when . . .” Weston trailed off.
I sighed heavily and took a sip of my coffee. “I don’t know. Miri and I need to sit down and make a plan for them, her house . . . everything.” I wiped at my fallen tears. “She’s young. This shouldn’t be happening. Those kids are her life, and they need her. I need her.”
“I know I’m going to sound like a broken record here, but if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“Be there for Cutter,” I stated. “My dad and brother are in his life, but they don’t live here.
He’s going to need someone close that he can confide in.
Guide him.” I glanced at Weston, who met my gaze.
His eyes were a warm brown and full of empathy, making me wonder if he’d gone through something like this.
Had he lost someone he loved dearly? I continued to stare, which he didn’t seem to care about because he kept his eyes on me the entire time.
And then Brendan popped into my mind, as if I was doing something wrong. I turned away, heat rising to my cheeks, and I cleared my throat.
Weston did as well. “What do you do for work?”
“I find corporations that are on the brink of financial despair and offer to buy them out to save them from bankruptcy.”
“You’re a pirate.”
I looked at him sharply, and he shrugged. “Sorry, slip of the tongue.”
“No, it’s fine.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. “People either think I’m a savior or someone hell-bent on ruining others.”
“Which one are you?”
“It depends on the company.” I looked into my empty cup and sighed.
“Sometimes companies need a complete overhaul. You can’t replace the CEO or CFO without replacing other members of management because their ideologies on business all align.
If they failed once, they’ll fail again. In this aspect, I guess I am a pirate.”
I added, “But also, if you have a family company that’s struggling and I come in to help and they can get on board with the business plan, what’s the point in breaking them up?”
“So, you don’t go in and tear apart companies for shits and giggles?”
For whatever reason, his question made me laugh. “Definitely not. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I laughed at work.”
Weston chuckled. “That’s a shame. I laugh all the time. It’s really the best way to lift your spirits.”
He had a point. “Do you like working with kids?”
He shrugged. “The alternative was to stay home all day and stare at the wall. I suppose there are times when I’d prefer the wall because it doesn’t talk back, but yeah, I love my job.”
“Have you always wanted to be a teacher?”
Weston laughed. “Nope, but getting my degree in physical education was the easier path in college, and it made for a nice retirement.”
Retirement?
“Wait, what?”
He chuckled again, and I found that I liked the sound of it.
I wasn’t wrong when I’d said I didn’t laugh at work.
No one did. Work was always so damn serious.
We were always straight-faced, no nonsense.
The idea of work filled me with dread. I hadn’t looked at my emails since I arrived, nor had I returned any of Brendan’s messages.
He was angry with me, and rightly so; I dumped a lot on him, but he could handle it for a few days while I figured things out.
“Teaching and coaching is my retirement job,” Weston said.
“What did you do beforehand?”
Weston’s cheeks blushed. He looked at the yard and tried to hide the small smile spreading across his lips. I knew I was missing the punchline of whatever his career used to be.
“You honestly don’t know?”
I shook my head slowly.
He glanced my way, his smile still in place. For a moment I wondered if he was one of those male models who used to grace our TV with their underwear ads.
“In my other life, I was a professional baseball pitcher until I had a career-ending injury.”
“Wow.” I shook my head. “Sorry, Cutter never said a thing. I mean, I knew he liked his baseball coach, but I didn’t know you played professionally.”
“It’s not something I talk about, but yeah.
I mean, it’s not a secret. Everyone in town knows, and during the annual summer parade, the town makes a big deal about it.
And there are times when the league will ask me to do appearances and other things.
” He shrugged as if what he used to do wasn’t a big deal.
“I don’t know shit about sports,” I told him. “I go to Cutter’s games when he’s playing near my home, but that’s about it.”
“Where’s home?”
“Boston.”
His face fell at the mention of the city I lived in, and I wanted to ask him why, but he masked his expression quickly by looking away.
Before either of us could continue, the screen door opened, and Miri stepped out.
She looked like her old self. Not sick. Not someone facing the biggest battle of her life.
Scout ran up to her, and sure enough, she slipped him a dog treat and then crouched down to hug him.
As much as I wanted to watch her, absorb her energy, I found myself watching Weston instead.
There was something about him that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
From our brief interactions I knew he was a good guy, and I liked that about him.
Especially if Cutter was going to need someone to talk to.