31. Rae
31
RAE
Then
“ C ancer?! ”
Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow it back down, determined not to get sick in the middle of the practice studio. It’s already bad enough that the other dancers are staring, their eyes filled with concern and opportunity as they wonder if that one small word is going to take me out of the game the way Aaliyah’s ankle took her out.
Not a chance in hell.
I think the words even as doubt swoops in, forcing me to face reality, to acknowledge the quiet tugging sensation in my gut as concern and fear draw me back to New Haven.
“Cancer?” I repeat, disbelief wrapped around the word.
“Yeah, Sunshine,” Hunter breathes, his voice full of sorrow and apology. “The MRI revealed a mass on his prostate. The biopsy confirmed that it was cancerous.”
I shudder, hating that I don’t have any questions or confusion around the process. It’s all so familiar to me, an echo of my experience with Mommy’s diagnosis.
“Rachel, do you need a moment?” Marcelo asks from across the room. He’s standing by the speaker, having stopped the music when I told him I needed to answer my phone. I’ve been waiting for this call from Hunter and Will all day, desperate to get some answers about the back pain that sent Will to the hospital a week ago. And now that I have it, I don’t want it. I don’t want the answer. I don’t want a moment. I just want to dance, to lose myself in the predictability of the choreography, and leave the uncertainty of life to everyone else.
But I can’t do that, so I look at Marcelo and hold up my hand, asking for five minutes. He nods and shoos me away, and I go, conscious of the fact that the remaining girls in the room huddle up as soon as I turn my back to them.
Fucking vultures.
When I step into the hallway, I lower myself to the floor and press my back against the wall, taking the time to rest because I’ve been at the studio all day, trying to perfect the timing of the pas de deux in the scene where Romeo and Juliet confess their love for each other.
“What stage?” I ask finally, closing my eyes as one lone tear escapes.
I know it’s not going to be good when Hunter sighs heavily before he says, “Three.”
“Fuck.” I pull my legs up to my chest and hug my knees, images of the past few months rolling through my mind. All the signs were there. The weight loss. The lack of an appetite. The back pain. It was all right there in front of me, and I just ignored it. “Fuck.”
“Don’t cry, Rae Rae,” Will says, his soft voice ensuring that I do exactly what he’s just asked me not to. The tears come hot and fast, and I can’t stop them. My brother is sick.
He’s sick, and I’m not there.
He’s sick, and I’m scared.
He’s sick, and it’s not fair.
“This is so unfair,” I sob, my hand over my mouth as I try to quiet the pain. “Why does it have to be you?”
Why does it have to be me?
The unspoken question floats around in my head, bouncing off of the images of my mother’s face, the memories of port placements, chemo infusions, and daily radiation appointments just for nothing to work. Just the thought of it all gives that tugging sensation strength, turning it into an incessant pull that I feel dragging me back to New Haven, demanding I surrender my life and my dreams to this beast of a disease that only exists to steal away everything I hold dear.
“It’s not fair. It’s not fair,” I murmur over and over again, unable to stop.
“I know, Sunshine,” Hunter says, and the gentle strength in his tone reminds me that he does know. “But we have to be strong for Will, okay?”
“And I’m going to be strong for y’all,” Will chimes in. “Do you hear me, Rae? I’m going to fight, and I’m going to beat this thing, okay? I promise.”
He can’t promise.
He knows that.
Cancer patients aren’t supposed to make promises to their family members. We’re supposed to make promises to them. Vows of love and support and sacrifice. That’s what I’m supposed to be giving Will right now, but my mouth won’t open. The words won’t come out, and I feel awful because I’m supposed to be able to give them to him. I’m supposed to be able to tell him that I’ll come home and I’ll take care of him. That while he’s fighting, I’ll be in his corner of the ring, but I can’t do it. I can’t bring myself to promise that I’ll come home and watch him die.
“ We’re going to beat this thing,” Hunter says to Will, but the words are a soothing, reassuring salve to my soul. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, Sunshine. The doctors have already come up with a game plan, and we’re going to follow their instructions to the letter. I’m going to take some time off from the gym so I can take him to all of his appointments. I’ve got him covered, okay?”
Relief mixed with the purest love courses through my veins. I nod, even though Hunter can’t see me. “Okay.”