Chapter 6
Autumn
“Please don’t be mad.” Mom was awake by the time I came back into the room. I closed the curtain divider behind us.
The hospital room was a bleak as I remembered from when we visited grandma when I was young. Mom laid in one of the room’s two beds that were divided by only a sheet. Built into the wall behind her was a dark, wood grain cabinet that contrasted heavily against the room’s crepe-colored wall paper. The cabinet was lined with outlets, switches and brightly colored faceplates and gizmos. Mom was surrounded by lamps, IV hangers, dozens of different kinds of chords, and an adjustable monitor. Rising above her, like a tombstone, was a framed close-up picture of a green field and two bright yellow flowers.
The whole thing reminded me of the yellow, silk rose corsage that was laid in my grandmother’s casket during the viewing.
Finding Mom on the dance floor surrounded by onlookers, the ambulance ride over here from the boat, and racing through the ER with her, all of it had sobered me up real quick. Talking to the doctor especially made my head spin. She spoke quickly and about things that I didn’t understand—technical terms, timetables and odds for recovery.
How serious was this?
It was like being handed the book of my mom’s life, but I read the chapters completely out of order… everyone else seemed to know what was going on, but I was lost. None of this made any sense to me. When I finally stopped the doctor, and demanded to know what the hell was going on, her words hit me like a freight train, changing my life forever.
She didn’t tell you? Your mother has breast cancer.
I flat-out didn’t believe her at first. It was too crazy, to possibly be real. There had to be a mix up, maybe she had the wrong patient or the wrong file. Mom and I shared everything with each other; she’d never keep something like this from me!
Would she?
“Be mad? Are you kidding me? You have cancer, Mom!” That was the first time I’d said it out loud, and the nausea swirled in my gut. If I hadn’t already thrown up once the doctor convinced me that there wasn’t a mistake that this was really happening, I would’ve rushed into the bathroom that second.
“It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds.” Mom offered a weak smile. Aside from being too thin and looking a little tired she seemed completely fine. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse. It certainly made everything harder to accept.
“How long have you known?” I choked back so many heavy emotions.
“Not long.” Mom’s smile became strained before falling away entirely. She took a breath, cleared her throat, then continued in her customary lighthearted way as if nothing bad had ever happened. “It wasn’t like I was charging the tumor rent. If anything, it was an uninvited guest that overstayed its un-welcome.”
“Days? Weeks?” I scoffed at her bitterly. “How could you not tell me right away?”
“We caught it early! It’s only stage one.” She took on a smirk, obviously trying her best to diffuse my growing anxiety. “And everyone knows that’s the easiest stage to beat in Super Mario Brothers.”
“This isn’t a damn video gam—” A flash of heat and pressure brought me to the brink of crying my eyes out, but deep breaths and glancing away delayed the inevitable tears. It took me a full minute to finish. “This is your damn life!”
Our lives.
She was my mom and my best friend. The thought of losing her crumbled me up like discarded aluminum foil. I couldn’t even fathom my life without her.
“Were you ever planning on letting me know?” It was extremely selfish, but I felt betrayed that she was going through all this alone. I would’ve done anything to help her! If she hadn’t passed out how long would she have kept this from me?
Why didn’t she trust me to be there for her?
“Of course I was! Just…” She sighed. “Just not yet. You have so much going on right now with what happened on set, and you struggling with your videos.”
“That’s crazy!” I tried not to be angry at her, I really did. I was just so scared and taken off guard by all this. “None of that matters. I would’ve dropped it all in second!”
“That’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you yet. What kind of a mother would I be if I threw all that on you? Mom blew out her air. “I didn’t want to worry you until we got more tests back.”
“That’s not your decision!” I protested, breathing heavily. The faint feeling I felt earlier started to return.
“It is my body last I checked. Besides, the tumor is still very small. It’s only the size of Mr. Peanut and the day anyone in a top hat and monocle beats me—”
“Stop it! Just stop!” I cut her off. I couldn’t handle it anymore. Why wasn’t she taking any of this seriously? “Stop treating this like it isn’t some big fucking deal!”
“Yes I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified! But so what? What does that get me? I have cancer. I still have to go through this process regardless of what I say, do, or feel!” Mom’s face fell. She punched the bed. All her pent-up frustration vented in one go. The flood gates burst as her typically bright voice cracked apart. Tears streamed down her face. All the pain and anguish she kept hidden behind her fun and funny façade crumbled into the unforgiving light of day. Her heart and soul nakedly crashed against the wood laminate floor. “So let me make my terrible, inappropriate jokes. They make all this feel like it hasn’t been ripped from my worst fucking nightmare. Being positive is all I have, Autumn. Don't take that away from me!”
I stood there shaking, reeling from what felt like a punch in the face. I was so horribly, twisted up inside. Maybe she was right not to tell me. I had only made everything worse since I got here.
Swallowing all my stupid fear and insecurity, I rushed over and hugged her as tightly as I could. We fell into one another becoming horrible sobbing messes, and crying like it was the end of the world. We were so angry at life for what it had thrown at us and at ourselves for how we handled it. But we couldn’t be angry at each other for long. It was because of how much love there was between us that we acted like such idiots.
“I’m so sorry, Mom.” I coughed out the words when I could breathe again. “I love you.”
“I know.” She said, pulling away slightly to wipe her face. “We’re both really bad at this whole fighting thing.”
“This isn’t a skill I want to practice a lot of.” When I pulled my face from her shoulder I saw that my ruined make up had stained her hospital gown. I’d completely forgotten I was wearing it. So much had already happened today. “I think I ruined your hospital gown.”
“Crap. Looks like I’m going to have to cancel that hot date with the cute doctor I saw in the hall.” She blew her nose, wiped her face again, and smiled at me through puffy red eyes. “You look really pretty. I mean before, when you came in. I meant to tell you before we left the house, but I don’t think I ever did.”
“Now I probably look like a circus clown.” I chuckled, feeling the flush of endorphins at not being so hurt or angry anymore.
“Not a clown, no. You’re missing the wig and nose.” Mom scooted over on her bed to make room for me beside her, instead of awkwardly leaning. “Sit down. I’ll tell you everything.”
“All the flattering details?” I asked, laying down and cuddling up next to her.
“Of course.” Mom filled me in on when she’d found the lump and told me what they’d done so far. I tried not to be too frightened by all of it, but couldn’t help bunching up the blankets with my fists. Mom injected so much levity into her retelling of her ‘foray into prods and pokes’ as she called it, that it didn’t feel as hopeless as it could have.
It was good that she didn’t have a neighbor in the room yet. I could’ve only imagined what they’d have thought of the passionate and irreverent way we talked about things that scared us. Some people were super mournful when bad things like this happened. Other people were incredibly optimistic. We used silly humor to make us feel better. We were a weird family, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“They emailed me for another audition,” I said in the exhausting lull after she’d fully caught me up.
“That’s great!” Mom perked up again, straightening in the bed. “When are you going in?”
“I’m not,” I replied, slumping a little lower and avoiding her gaze.
“Autumn…” Mom gave me that look. “I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. You’re the sweetest daughter in the world. But. If they reached out to you, then they’re interested. You’d be crazy not to at least try!”
“No. I’ve given this a lot of thought!” I protested. “I’d rather be here with you during all this.”
“Well I don’t want you here.” Mom crossed her arms defiantly; trying to play the mother-makes-the-rules card. “You’re going to completely cramp my style.”
“Are you talking about the silver fox with the blue eyes?” I raised an eyebrow at her, then laughed. “You have no chance with that guy.”
“What?” Mom gasped, insulted. “You shut your whore-mouth!”
“Mom, McSteamy out there is totally gay. You were mostly unconscious when they wheeled you in here, you didn’t see the way he was flirting with the cop earlier.”
“Damn. Why do I always fall for the gay guys?” Mom’s face screwed up with disappointment, then reset as she as abruptly remembered what she was talking about. “You should go to that audition! This could be a huge opportunity for you. Remember how excited you were when you got cast in that last movie?”
“I was. That was before they tried to kill me.” I frowned. Seeing Mom’s face grow red at the thought of me being put in that kind of danger made me quickly add, “That day made me realize I’m not cut out for all that, at least not now. I like what I’m doing and my channel is growing. Soon I’ll be making enough for you not to have to work all nine of your jobs. Maybe only like one or two.”
“Oh to dare to dream…” Mom waxed on wistfully, before taking on more of a serious tone again. “Take some more time to think it over and make sure that whatever you do it’s for the right reasons. I’ll support you either way.”
I smiled and nodded, then hugged her again.
“Hello? Is this where they keep the wounded badgers?” Aunt Paula called out from the room’s entrance. She wasn’t my biological aunt of course; her name wasn’t nearly silly enough to belong in the Moore family by birth. She was just Mom’s best friend, and our constant house guest.
We did the rounds of hugs and greetings. Paula was a little taller than us and on the stockier side, but had glorious dirty blond hair and bigger boobs than both Mom and I combined. They were high school friends that never outgrew each other. She basically moved in for a few years to help my Mom take care of me when Dad left.
It turned out that Paula knew about the cancer the day Mom found the lump. Mom’s face scrunched up when she told me, figuring that I’d be upset at being the last to know. On the contrary, I was relieved. I obviously wanted to know, but the thing that frightened me most was that she had been going through it alone. Knowing that she had Paula’s help made me feel a bit better about her not telling me.
Stage one caught early enough was very treatable and had a high survivability rate. Hearing that from Paula calmed me down even more than when the doctor told me. It didn’t feel as insurmountable anymore. The next few months were going to be uncertain and painful, but there was hope. Real hope!
While they talked about Mom’s ever growing schedule of tests I took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom to pee. I desperately wanted to splash cold water on my face, but didn’t knowing that it would only spread my makeup more. My eyes were a red rimmed, puffy mess. There was a little smoky smudging on my cheeks, but no dramatic streaking. All-in-all, my makeup surprisingly held up pretty well.
I scoffed at myself. Who cares about makeup in a hospital?
I was running my hands under cold water, just quietly processing everything when there was a knock on the bathroom door. Drying off my hands I opened it to see the same young nurse that helped move us out of the ER and into one of the actual rooms upstairs. She discretely asked me to join her in the hallway to clear up a small records issue.
“There was a problem with your mom’s insurance card.” She said, quietly by just outside the room’s door. “It keeps coming up as expired; does she have another form of insurance or an updated plan?”
“That’s impossible! My mom’s worked at the bank since…” A small island lodged in my throat. They dropped her down to part time. Her and everyone else in her department! Probably so they wouldn’t have to pay for benefits or most importantly—insurance.
Those fucking bastards!
A revelation dawned on me, making me feel like the worst daughter in history.
There was no Hawaii. No boyfriend either.
Mom realized something was wrong and knew how expensive this was all going to be. That’s why she worked crazy hours and saved as much money as she could. The weight loss, the distant worry in her eyes when she didn’t know I was looking… All the signs were there.
How could I not see that?
Using the wall as support I walked over to a nearby chair, collapsing into it. A swell of lightheadedness made my legs weak. I thought about how expensive all those tests were and how many more months she had ahead of her. I’d heard stories of people having to pay out upwards of eighty-thousand dollars for treatment. And those people had insurance.
We were so fucked. How were we going to pay for all this?
The nurse went over our limited options with me. There were a few charity organizations that could help, but the waiting list for those were staggering. There were always loans, but Mom would never go for that. She worked in a bank and knew all about the crushing realities that came with the high interest rates.
My head sagged into my waiting hand. I pinched the stud in my left ear to the point of pain, but not even that seemed to help at all. Mom and Paula’s laughs echoed out of the room, making me feel even crappier that I was so selfish earlier. The nurse was eventually called away, which was fine. I didn’t have anything to say to her anyways.
There was one long shot.
The anxiety of the idea crept into my ear like tiny black spiders, until I felt it crawling around all over my brain. I knew what I had to do, despite how much my lungs twisted in my chest. If there was even the smallest chance I had to at least try; for her sake. I pulled out my phone and dug through my emails.
Shit! I deleted the audition info and confirmation.
Think! OK. The audition was at a baseball stadium. That was easy. There was only one notable stadium in Boston. As for the time and date…I was drawing a complete blank. I knew it was soon, but that was all I could remember.
I cracked my knuckles and put my detective hat on. Being both a millennial and a professional blogger, I lived online. If there was anyone best suited to find when this audition was happening, it was me. I checked the stadium’s website first, browsing their schedule, and then moved on to other affiliate sites.
If Lionhouse was doing casting there, then they were probably actively filming that day, otherwise they’d use a far cheaper place to do it, like a hotel or even a brick and mortar casting company just outside the city. So that ruled out days in which the baseball team had practices and games. It would most likely be a weekday too, because most filming crews had more or less regular work hours. I also excluded charity events, school trips and a few other factors which narrowed the available audition window to a few days in the next two weeks.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Was I really planning on crashing a casting audition for a major motion picture for a job that I didn’t even want in the first place? I took a deep breath and exhaled. Would Mom have done anything less for me?