Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
HANNAH
It had been a week since India, and Jack and I were talking every day. My mom had a PET scan today to see how everything was going and if the tumor on her kidney had shrunk enough to be surgically removed, which was what we were hoping for.
I was pacing the carpeted hospital waiting room when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I whipped it out and instantly relaxed when I saw Jack’s name. He’d become a source of comfort or belly laughs, either of which I would take right now. Our conversations never went too deep, and he didn’t live in town, so neither of us were trying to date each other. We had a solid friendship brewing that I saw no problem with.
Jack: Isn’t your mom’s PET scan today?
Hannah with two N’s: Yeah, and I’m a nervous wreck. Distract me.
Jack: Open your app store. Search for Hannah with two N’s.
I froze. Was he serious?
I opened the app store and typed in what he’d said. And then I snort-laughed when an actual app came up. It was categorized under games. I clicked it, downloaded it for free, and opened level one.
It was some kind of first-person shooter game. I noticed that I was behind a rifle, looking down range. I exited the game and went back over to our texts.
Hannah with two N’s: I don’t like shooting games.
Jack: You’re from Idaho! Don’t you learn to shoot guns before you can walk? Kidding, trust me. Give it a ‘shot.’
I switched back to the app just in time to see a weird spiky blob float across the screen. I frowned in confusion, switching back to the message thread.
Hannah with two N’s: What is that?
Jack: It’s a cancer cell! Kill it!
I grinned.
Going back to the game, I tapped the moving blob on the screen and activated a stream of bullets. The bullets smashed into the cancer cell and it exploded, turning to confetti. I laughed, repeating it a few more times as the cells came faster and faster. Before I knew it, I was on level four. I had three guns now and the cancer cells were wearing mob boss suits and hats. This time when I shot them, they screamed, “Vinnieeeeee!” as they died.
This was the most thoughtful and hilarious thing anyone had ever done for me.
Hannah with two N’s: You’re amazing. That was fun, and somehow, I burned a half hour here waiting.
Jack: Glad you liked it. Let me know how everything goes with your mom.
I found myself thinking of next Christmas, nine months away. That would be the longest wait ever until I saw him again.
Hannah with two N’s: My church is having a worship concert this weekend and I’m performing a solo song. Will you be in town?
It was Wednesday, a long shot, but I was putting it out there. I’d been on my church’s worship team for five years now, and the concert only happened a few times a year. It was a big deal in Willow Harbor.
Jack: You sing? Probably have the voice of an angel.
He was avoiding the other part of my question, but his comment was sweet.
Hannah with two N’s: Do you want to come to town for my performance?
I wanted to take the text back the second I sent it. It was needy and felt like it crossed a line or blurred it at least. We were friends, and friends didn’t really fly out for small-town church concerts. But if I was being honest, I wouldn’t have minded being more than friends. There was something special about Jack.
Jack: I only come to Willow Harbor on Christmas, Hannah. I’m sorry.
My heart sank into my stomach as tears pricked the corner of my eyes. I felt so stupid. I shouldn’t have asked. He was a busy business owner living in Seattle. He wasn’t going to make time to fly out and attend my small church concert. Though I wanted to argue that he’d come all the way over here to pick me up for our India trip. Still, I could take a hint.
I put my phone back into my pocket just as the nurse came out with my mom. I slapped a big smile on my face and blinked back any remnant of tears.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
The nurse parked my mom right next to me. “Doctor Reed is looking over the scans. He’ll be with you in a minute. I’ll take you over to the consultation room where you can wait for him.”
A few minutes later, my mom and I were sitting together as Dr. Reed entered the room wearing a smile. “Good news, ladies.”
I instantly relaxed.
“The chemo has worked wonders. The tumor is now operable, and we are one more step toward being cancer-free.”
My mom shouted out, “Praise God!” while I just let silent tears of gratitude flow down my face.
“But there’s one small thing,” Dr. Reed said. He was an intelligent man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair. He was kind but also had a slight flat affect to his voice that I was sure someone in this field needed when giving people bad news.
My mother’s hand searched for mine across our seats, and we held on to each other, bracing ourselves.
“The tumor is attached to the kidney like we thought, and it looks like we’ll need to take it out as well.”
I inhaled. The tumor had been so big before that it was pressing on her pancreas and had attached itself to her kidney. The chemo was supposed to shrink it so that we could try to save the organ while also not letting the cancer spread.
“But…one kidney? Can you live a normal life with one kidney? A long, healthy life?” I asked.
Dr. Reed nodded. “You can. And since your mother is over her childbearing years, we don’t worry about a pregnancy stressing one kidney. She doesn’t have diabetes. She’s going to be just fine,” he assured me.
I looked over at my mother, and she gave me a bright smile.
Six months of chemo and radiation had gotten us from a stage four to a stage two. Losing this tumor would probably put her at a stage one, and then we were almost home free after radiation.
Lord, give me strength.
“Okay. If that’s what you think we should do,” I told him.
He nodded. “I do. I’ll also send this recommendation over to the Seattle cancer team and let you know their thoughts as well.” There was a slight annoyance in his tone at that last line. It probably didn’t feel good to have someone babysitting everything you did, but I wanted the best for my mother. Dr. Reed had been a bit annoyed by Jack’s Seattle doctors at first, but then he’d taken it in stride.
“Thank you, Doctor,” I told him.
As we waited for the elevator to head back home, I shot off a text to Jack.
Hannah with two N’s: Mom’s tumor is operable. But they have to take her kidney. Doctor says she should live a normal life with one though.
I waited for his response, something to lighten my mood or bring me comfort, but nothing came. I was starting to wonder if this friendship with Jack was a good idea. I wasn’t thinking of him as a friend anymore. Instead, I longed for something more.