Chapter 20
Lucy
The ride home is silent and tense, but none of the tension is between us. Aria is a rock, strong and steady. She takes on the responsibility of driving home, allowing me to sink into my spiraling thoughts of everything I have to arrange to be able to sit with Mama Betty in the hospital.
I call Cierra, ensuring she is filled in and able to take over the bulk of the managerial duties while I sit vigil.
Thankfully, she loves ‘Ms. Betty’ too and is more than willing to step up for a little while.
I call her home nurses and let them know she’s been admitted and they all say they will come visit when they can.
Part of me feels bad leaning on Aria so much in this moment. I want to debrief with her, ask how she feels about last night, let her know that this wasn’t just a one-time thing for me…but I simply do not have the capacity in this moment to worry about anything but getting home to Mama Betty.
The other part of me is so thankful she stepped up. I tend to freeze up when I get stressed, but Aria cut right through that hesitation and gave me everything I needed in that moment: confidence and space to do what needed to be done.
The silence of the car is broken only by Aria turning on some music to serve as background noise after my phone calls are done.
At one point, her hand reaches over to clasp mine.
No words. No demands. Just a silent offering of support and comfort on the drive.
I grasp it, probably too tightly, and don’t let go before we arrive at the hospital.
I have been here before. Mama Betty was diagnosed five years ago and I sat with her through her rounds of chemo in this same hospital.
I held her hand and made sure she never had to go through it alone.
She went into remission after her treatment, but she always told me it would come back and that she wanted me to be prepared.
I guess I will find out soon if she was right.
I lead the way to the front desk. “Hi there,” I greet the young man behind the counter. “Here to visit Maria Beatriz Delgado Gonzalez.”
“Date of birth?”
“September 3, 1950.”
“IDs, please.” He holds out his hand and both Aria and I hand over our licenses. He enters the information into the system, hands them back, then prints off our visitor badges and hands them over. “Please ensure the badges are visible at all times. Ms. Gonzalez is in room 807.”
I thank him and quickly make my way over to the elevator. I don’t notice until I stop to wait for the elevator to arrive that Aria is lagging behind me. I turn toward her fully, giving her a puzzled look.
“I would love to meet Ms. Betty,” she starts slowly, “I know how important she is to you. But I want to give you time alone with her first. This way I can take our stuff back ho—” She clears her throat.
“Back to the apartment. If you’re okay with it, I can repack you a bag with comfy clothes, a phone charger… ” she trails off, looking uncertain.
I stride the few steps it takes to meet her where she is at and take her face in her my hands. I bring her down to my level and press a soft kiss to her lips. Immediately, tension leaves her frame and she gathers me into a hug.
“Thank you,” I whisper in her ear. She nods and gives me one more squeeze before releasing me when the elevator dings behind me. I walk onto the elevator and turn to keep eye contact with Aria until the door closes, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
***
“Eighth floor. Oncology.”
The disembodied voice of the elevator shakes me from the dissociative state I had found myself in. I stride out and follow the signs to room 807. I give a little knock to announce my presence before letting myself in.
“Knock, knock,” I speak in a sotto voce tone, letting her know I am here without being loud enough to wake her if she’s sleeping.
“Mija,” her answer is full of affection, but I can hear the thread of relief within it, “I told them not to bother you.”
“I am glad they did,” I respond, coming over and giving her a hug, being careful of the IV in her arm. Her arms feel weak, like her strength has been sapped from every ounce of her being. My breath catches, but I compose myself and hitch a smile on my face. “How are you feeling?”
“Oh, they are giving me the good stuff,” she jokes, lifting up her arm to display her IV. I don’t mention her trembling or how she drops it immediately. Instead, I laugh along with her and claim a seat next to her bed, taking her hand in mine.
“Well, at least that’s one perk,” I fire back. As much as I don’t want to bring down the mood… “How long have you suspected it was back?” She sighs at the somber tone I employ.
“Amor, it has been a few months,” she starts, shushing me when I try to interject. “No, no, I did not want to tell you until I was sure. You’ve been distracted during our weekly catch-ups regardless, Lucy. What has been keeping you so busy, hm?”
Immediately, my cheeks darken as images flash behind my eyes.
Red hair, wild and untamed. Her head thrown back in ecstasy. Eyes like liquid mercury. “Fuck, Princess, please!”
“Ah,” she nods sagely, interrupting the decidedly impure thoughts racing through my brain. “Who is he?”
“She,” I correct automatically, before cringing at the unholy glee lighting up her features. “It’s still new, Mama, there is really nothing to tell…” I trail off at the stern look on her face.
“Luciana Adelaida Ramos.” I wince. “I have no children to be nosy with and embarrass and you will not deny me that pleasure, mija. Now, tell me about this girl.”
I sigh, shake my head, and smile as I recount the whole tale.
***
“—so, she has been staying with me since last Monday. Almost a week now,” I finish the story, eyes unfocused. I shake my head, coming back to the present. Mama Betty is shaking her head and laughing until it transforms into coughing.
“You are ridiculous, my girl,” she says once her coughing fit ends.
“’There is nothing to tell’,” she scoffs, but smiles at me, affection shining in her eyes.
“You are halfway in love with this girl already, mija. I need to meet her and thank her for bringing back the light in your eyes.” She raises a shaky hand and pats my cheek affectionately.
Before I can respond to try and refute her claim, the doctor knocks on the door and enters the room.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Stone.” She smiles at both of us and shakes our hands. “I am here to discuss the results of Ms. Betty’s scans.” She directs her focus to Mama Betty. “Are you okay with me sharing your results with your visitor as well?”
“She’s family,” Mama Betty says simply, squeezing the hand that is still gripping hers. Warmth suffuses my chest and I squeeze back as I blink the tears away.
“Okay,” Dr. Stone continues with a friendly smile, tossing her blonde curls over her shoulder. “You were already informed that your ovarian cancer has returned. I have additional bad news along with some good news. Which would you like to hear first?”
“Bad news,” we both say together, then let out a short laugh.
I continue, “We both like ending on a more positive note.” I shoot Mama Betty another smile and shift closer to her before turning back to the doctor.
“The bad news is that the cancer is not only back, but it has spread. While previously it was confined to your ovaries, it has now metastasized and is affecting other abdominal organs, like your liver and intestines, as well as your lungs. This is why you have been dealing with the loss of appetite, shortness of breath, and fatigue. Your body is working twice as hard to continue functioning right now.”
I have her hand locked in a death grip and I make a conscious effort to loosen my hold.
When I look over, her face is not tensed with worry like mine is.
Instead, she looks serene. Accepting. And that scares me more than anything the doctor could say.
I feel tears start to make their presence known.
“And the good news?” I choke out around the new lump in my throat.
“The good news is that we have several treatment options we can try. Targeted radiation, chemo, as well as the possibility of surgery gives us ample avenues to pursue to try and beat this back into remission. While I would never say for sure that a certain plan would or would not work, there are certainly options that would give us time. That is the most important aspect here.” She shifts and makes eye contact with each of us in turn. “Do you have any questions?”
“Yes,” Mama Betty says as she struggles to push herself into more of a sitting position. “If I were to refuse treatment, how long do you think I have left?”
What the fuck?
To her credit, Dr. Stone looks unfazed.
“I would need to check in and examine you regularly for a bit to see how fast the cancer is spreading to give you a clearer timeline.” Her voice floats through my shocked, frozen state. “However, a conservative estimate would be anywhere from two to six months.”
Two to six months?
I look back over to Mama Betty, but her serene expression hasn’t changed. It’s almost like she was already expecting that answer and has accepted that timeline without issue or complaint. Maybe she feels it, maybe not, but I can’t just sit here and pretend like I am okay with it.
“What about with treatment?” I cut in, the tightness in my throat on full display, “How much more time would that give her?”
“Again, it is difficult to say for sure until we are able to run more tests,” Dr. Stone says, directing a nod at me, her voice still professional but now with a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “But it is likely that you are still looking at less than a year, even with treatment.”
I feel the tears slip down my cheeks and I squeeze my eyes shut, unwilling or maybe unable to accept the words being directed my way.
I hear Dr. Stone murmur something before stepping out and giving us privacy, but I can barely hear anything.
The world still blurring before me in a haze of tears.
I feel untethered and numb, like I am an unwelcome inhabitant of my own body.
Nothing registers until I feel a thin, frail hand squeezing my own with unexpected strength.
“Luciana.” Mama Betty is looking at me now. The look in her eyes is one of kindness and sympathy, but no fear for herself. She looks as though she wants nothing more than to comfort me. “Do not grieve me before I’m gone, child.”
“How can I not when you’re going to leave me so soon, Mama?
” My tears are streaming freely down my face now and my voice is thick with the emotions overwhelming me.
“I’m not ready to live without you yet. I don’t want you to go.
You said—” My throat constricts with another sob. “You said that you wouldn’t leave me.”
“And I will always be with you, mija,” she says, stroking a hand over my cheek. “My body being gone won’t change that when you carry my soul with you.”
At that, I lose the fight to stay controlled and curl up next to my chosen Mama, sobs wracking through my body, as we process the news together.