Chapter Sixteen
Mom and I sat across from each other at the dining room table. She was in her new permanent position with her laptop, where she’d been for the last few evenings after work, researching and making cancer-parent connections online.
I scanned the spreadsheet I was creating with all the different types of surgeries and their risks, thinking I’d finish a few more rows before going to Jason’s, but I couldn’t focus on any of the words on the screen with my heart thumping in my gut.
“Mom, can I borrow the car, please?”
She looked up from her screen, her forehead still a sea of lines from over-concentrating on whatever she was reading. “Are you sure your leg is okay to drive?”
I slid her glasses to her across table. “It’s my left leg, Mom. I don’t need it for the pedals.”
“Oh, right. Okay, honey.” She got up and kissed and hugged me like she’d never see me again, which I guess was a near possibility.
I went back to my room, brushed my hair, and tried on seven different shirts in search of the one that best said I might have cancer but look how cute I am.
When I got close to Jason’s, the sun was setting over the lake, and pinks and oranges lit up the sky. Families biked on the path along the water. The world continued on, even though my life had irrevocably changed. At a stoplight, I stared at my legs and wondered if I’d find a second opinion that would keep me from losing my leg forever. What would a prosthetic feel like on? What would it feel like when I took it off and nothing connected the left side of my body to the earth?
A few minutes later, Jason’s dad answered the door. “Ellie, hello. Come on in. Looks like those crutches are making you buff.”
“Yes, I’m getting the shoulders I need to fulfill my body-builder destiny.”
“Just what you always hoped for,” he said drily. “Jason is working in the garden with Olivia. Head on back.”
“Thanks, Mr. Cooper.” Jason’s dad retreated to his office, and I crutched down the long hall past the kitchen. This time I noticed their family pictures along the walls. I paused to look at a professional photo of the four of them taken in the gazebo of their garden. Next to it was a portrait of Jason’s mom, this one a natural shot, a black-and-white close-up of her laughing. She was a true beauty, and I saw where Jason got his smile and his singular dimple. At the bottom were the words, “In loving memory of Linda May Cooper.”
Every day. Every day he must see this and miss her, wish for one more hug.
I sniffled and moved on to the library. The French doors were open to the backyard.
“Do it now, before either of you gets hurt.” It was Olivia speaking from outside. I froze.
“No way. You don’t get it.” Jason sounded wounded.
“Do you remember what you were like when Mom was going through all that? You’re lucky the school didn’t make you repeat junior year. Your senior year is just starting and—”
“Stop it. It’s not going to be like what Mom went through.”
“You don’t know that, Jason. Cancer is cancer.”
“How cruel would that be? And anyway I—”
“Think about it. What if she has to go through chemo, radiation, surgery? Are you even capable of being that support person right now—again? So soon? It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to Dad and me. You were practically catatonic for months. We just got you back.”
Pressure flooded my nose and eyes, and my body shook. I slowly moved out of the library and then crutched down the hall as quietly as I could manage to the front entrance, wishing I could run. My breathing was so fast I could hardly get control of it. I had to leave. But I told him I was coming. His dad knows I’m here.
Footsteps down the hall behind me. Crap, crap, crap.
Wiping away the pools from eyes, I did my best to steady my breath and my trembling chin. I put my hand on the doorknob like I had just let myself in—weird, but there are zero un-weird options right now—and turned around.
“Hey, you’re here. Hi,” Jason said.
He had a spot of dirt on his forehead. My hand lifted an inch before I resisted brushing the smudge away, resisted kissing him. That couldn’t happen ever again. How cruel would that be? he’d said. Right. I would be the cruel one to let him stay with me out of guilt.
He reached out to what? Touch, kiss, hug me? I don’t know. I crutched a step back, not letting him. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Well, that was easy to answer. “No, I’m not, actually. I…I’m sorry to do this, but—”
His face blanched. “No, Ellie don’t.” He reached again, grazing my arm as I pulled away.
I had to close my eyes to say the words. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you everything. Yes, it’s cancer, but it’s bad. I mean”—I opened my eyes, keeping my gaze down—“not that all cancer isn’t bad, but mine is really rare, and the doctor didn’t even know what to do for sure, but her recommendation was”—I took a deep breath—“amputation. So, I can’t handle that and do this…” I waved my hand, indicating him and me. “Whatever this is between us.”
“I’m sorry, Ellie, so sorry. But please, I—”
“I hope you understand. This is just going to be a lot, and I need, you know…I need to focus.”
“I’m here for you. I can help.” He looked at me like I was stabbing him.
My insides twisted, but I shook my head, thinking of everything Olivia had said. I was the worst possible person for him right now. My body ached to hug him, but I needed to do this.
“I don’t want that from you.” I forced the words out. “Please. And I’m not going to do the sketch for the contest.” I decided there on the spot. I had no desire to be hoisted over my friends’ heads or spun around on a stool in gold lamé. “So, I probably won’t see you for a while. I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Shaking again, I turned to leave as Jason said, “Ellie, please. Can we talk? Please—”
It was so hard to ignore the pain and pleading in his voice, but I shut the door and crutched as fast I could to the car.
Unbelievable. I can’t even run right now.
The second I turned on the ignition, I pressed on the gas. The wheels screeched against the pavement, and I fought to get my seat belt on as I swerved out of the driveway. The longest driveway in the history of driveways.
Back on the road, I opened the windows and turned the music up and up. The shaking got worse until my whole body was sobbing, the tears coming so hard and fast I could barely see. A floodgate opened in my sinuses and snot poured down my mouth and chin.
I searched for tissues, but there weren’t any, so I used the bottom of my T-shirt to try and staunch the flow, but it was useless. Like everything.
I was disgusting. And I had cancer. I was a tumorous, slobbering, snot-producing, fish-killing, heart-breaking wreck of a human.