Chapter Nineteen

 

 

CANCER.

The word would not leave his mind.

On the drive home from the hospital, Ma chattered, her words slurring at times from the aftereffects of anesthesia. She was thrilled that Forrester’s tomato plants at the bookstore were doing well, and grateful he was growing them for her. When she tried to tease that he was growing them so she’d make him lasagna all the time, he made the appropriate response noises, but he was fraught with worry. Ma looked so pale and small in the car beside him, and no matter how badly he wanted to, he didn’t have the heart to demand answers yet.

Would the stubborn woman tell him, anyway?

She had an appointment with an oncologist, which meant she had some sort of cancer. She seemed to be favoring her left arm, so it could be anything on that side of the body, from skin to lung, to breast to…. What else was over there?

“Your cousin Alfie got out on parole,” Ma remarked. “Since it’s his first”—she did mocking air quotes—“offense.”

Her statement startled him out of his thoughts. “I hadn’t heard that.”

In truth Forrester had been so busy with the bookstore and Kyle, he’d all but forgotten his loser cousin.

“Heroin.” The smug note in Ma’s voice might have amused him if it wasn’t for the current situation. “Rosalina thinks her boys are so good. Ha!” She waved her hand, doing an admirable job of pretending not to be in pain.

Forrester pulled Ma’s Lincoln into the driveway. Joey’s beat-up Mustang was not there. “Where’s Joey?”

“He took Nonna to a couple movies. She hasn’t seen all the films that were nominated for Oscars this year. You know she likes to see all of them, even if she knows which films and actors won.”

“How convenient. That way you could get your mystery test without her knowing.”

“You gonna come inside?”

“Sure.” He glanced in the rearview mirror as Kyle parked his Challenger behind them and climbed out.

Ma reached for the door handle, but Forrester stopped her. “Hold on, let me get it.”

“I know how to use a car door,” she grumbled, but she waited for him to open it.

When he helped her to her feet, she hissed in pain.

Quickly, he put his hand on her back, wincing in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Ma. Did you pull a stitch?”

“No, I’m fine,” she insisted, trying to camouflage her obvious discomfort with a wobbly smile.

“You need me to carry anything?” Kyle joined them.

“Why don’t you grab her purse?”

Ma rolled her eyes and took the bag before Kyle did. “Don’t tell a stranger to carry my purse. What’s the matter with you? I can carry my own bag.”

“You don’t have to snap at Kyle, Ma. He’s trying to help.”

“Just hush and get in the house. I don’t need the neighbors staring.” With that, she did an admirable job of walking without so much as a wince.

“Sorry,” Forrester said as they followed.

Kyle shook his head. “It’s fine.”

The desperate need to seize Kyle’s hand and pull him close overwhelmed Forrester, and he didn’t know how he managed not to do so. His lover’s reassuring touch had kept him sane while he’d waited at the hospital.

Yet now when Forrester needed Kyle most, he was unable to even touch him.

The rich love and emotion they’d shared while making love earlier and the ease of introducing Kyle to Lucas and Benny was a stark contrast to being with his family as mere friends.

This sucks!

“Shoes off,” Ma announced as she sat on the chair just inside the back door to follow her own order. She grimaced as she untied her shoe, but when Forrester knelt to help, she swatted him away. “I just had a test. I’m not an invalid.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, standing and kicking off his flip-flops.

With a smile, she changed the subject. “Are you boys hungry? I can make spaghetti.”

He gave Kyle a questioning glance, and Kyle nodded.

“Sure, that would be nice,” Forrester said. They followed her into the kitchen, the tension in the air like hot tropical humidity without a breeze, thick and hard to breathe.

“Why don’t you boys make yourselves comfortable, and I’ll get you a snack to tide you over while I make pasta. You’ll have to suffer with the kind from a box, though.”

“You don’t have to put yourself out, Mrs. Giordano,” Kyle insisted.

“It’s the least I can do after your help today. How else would Forrester get back to his truck if you didn’t follow us?”

That had been the agreed-upon excuse for Kyle’s presence.

Dammit, he was sick of making stuff up. Like telling his family he slept in his bookstore when he stayed at Kyle’s.

He watched Ma retrieve her apron and tie it around her waist, her hands trembling from the effort. Her skin went white.

“You gonna be sick, Ma?”

She shooed him away. “I’m fine. I keep telling you that. Now sit.”

Irritably Forrester obeyed his mother, sitting at the small Formica table in the kitchen. Kyle joined him.

Ma forced a smile as she got out plates and silverware. “So how did you two become friends?”

“I shop in his bookstore,” Kyle answered, watching her as she moved around the kitchen. “Would you like some help, ma’am?”

“Nope. You just stay where you are. Missy practiced making my cannoli yesterday. They’re not as good as mine, but since you’ve never had mine, you won’t notice.” She smiled at him as though nothing was wrong.

Forrester’s foot bounced up and down with rising impatience as his mother chatted like this was any old afternoon. He noticed Kyle watching him watch her, as though unsure what to do. Every passing second, he felt closer and closer to the edge of sanity, imagining he might topple over into a complete breakdown if this went on.

Did she actually think she could get away with this charade? How far had the cancer spread? Dr. Goldman said she’d been putting it off. Did that mean they had no options?

“You boys can take the cannoli with you,” Ma said, her voice light and cheery, the waver only slightly discernable. She laughed. “I don’t wanna be stuck having to eat them and pretend I like them.”

Ma retrieved a tray from the refrigerator and barely made it to the counter. Just seeing her weak and frail yet stubbornly pretending otherwise made Forrester’s anger swell, bubbling up in hopeless frustration.

He’d had enough.

He slammed the flat of his hand on the table. “Ma, put down the cannoli!”

Ma dropped the tray on the counter with a loud whack, and Kyle jumped. Forrester hadn’t meant to shout, but watching her flit around had taken its toll.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph, Forrester,” Ma scolded before she began wiping up the splattered powdered sugar. “What are you yelling for?”

“I know you have cancer,” he snarled.

“Fine!” she shouted back, and Kyle jumped again.

“Enough with the bullshit, Ma. Tell me the truth.”

“I have breast cancer! You happy?”

Forrester’s mouth gaped a few times, but he managed to bluster, “No, I’m not happy. What the hell? When did this happen?”

One hand on her hip, her back to them, she waved the dishcloth in a broken gesture, her voice irritable. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does matter!” He started to leap from his chair, but Kyle put a hand on his arm, shaking his head ever so slightly. Taking a deep breath to gain control of his temper, he asked, “What test did you have done today?”

“A lumpectomy. Now they’re gonna make me do chemo. But dammit!” She threw the dishcloth in the sink to punctuate the curse. “They’re not taking my breast! I already told Dr. Goldman, I’m not doing it.”

Blood barreled through his veins, traveling up his neck to where it throbbed behind his skull. “You’ll do whatever the doctor tells you to do.”

She glowered at him. “Yeah, easy for you to sit there and say. How would you like it if the doctor wanted to cut off your nuts?”

Forrester palmed his face, stretching his fingers across it in frustration. Rolling his shoulders to loosen the tight muscles, he opened his mouth, but Kyle spoke first.

“Maybe we should all take a breather. Mrs. Giordano, why don’t you have a seat? I’ll make coffee, and we can eat the practice cannolis.”

Ma must’ve felt bad, because she never allowed anyone to serve her in her own home. Yet when Kyle pulled out a chair for her, exuding a gentle yet confident demeanor, she obeyed. It wouldn’t be difficult to imagine him in a courtroom, convincing a jury to his way of thinking.

No one spoke as Kyle made coffee. After it brewed, he poured three mugs and placed the plates, silverware, and cannoli on the table before sitting beside Forrester. He scooted his chair closer, his knee pressing against Forrester’s thigh. That faint touch of support meant everything to him.

“Thank you,” Forrester mouthed, hoping Kyle knew what he really thanked him for.

Kyle’s half smile showed that he did.

Ma reached for her coffee, wincing. Forrester’s lower lip trembled, and the tears he’d been fighting threatened to fall.

Ma sighed and placed a hand over his. “Bambino mio, don’t cry.”

“Mama, why didn’t you tell us?” he asked, reverting back to what he called her as a child.

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, blinking. “There was just never an opportunity.”

With a shake of his head, he snatched his hand back. “Never an opportunity?”

“Don’t cop an attitude. You know we’ve been busy. There was Christmas and then Baby Anthony was born. Then Easter. Then Amanda’s gender-reveal party and the sprinkle. Then summer came and—”

“You’ve known since Christmas?”

Kyle spoke up before Ma could retort. “Let’s keep the yelling to a minimum, shall we?”

This time, Ma looked at Kyle like he was crazy. “No one’s yelling.”

With a sniff of laughter, Kyle gave her a dose of attitude right back. He pointed at his earpiece. “Maybe I have this on the wrong setting. Or is this how all Italians talk to each other? I thought that was just a stereotype.”

“Look who thinks he’s funny.” Ma gave him a begrudging look of approval. For half a second, Forrester allowed himself to be pleased Ma liked Kyle. She had little respect for men or women who didn’t stand their ground or stand up to her.

“Ma,” Forrester began, imitating Kyle’s calm tone. “So what happened? You found a lump at Christmas and ignored it?”

She threw him a sharp glare. “Yes, because I knew what would happen. Mrs. Oliver down the street, her sister had both her breasts cut off. I won’t let them do that to me.”

Forrester let the sarcasm drip. “You’re right, Ma. Dying with both breasts is a better option.”

“I’m not gonna die,” she scoffed, though he could see the fear in her eyes.

“How do you know that? Kyle’s mother died of breast cancer,” Forrester told her harshly. Kyle flinched, and Forrester grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

Thankfully, Kyle shook his head as if it was trivial at this point.

He turned back to his mother, his throat tightening. “Ma, you can’t die on me.” He engulfed her tiny hands with his own, and his lip quivered and his eyes watered.

“Oh, bambino, don’t cry,” she soothed. He wished she would start yelling again.

He brushed at his face. “Mama, you gotta promise me you’ll do whatever the doctor says. I can’t lose you.”

“I won’t get a mastectomy,” she insisted like a petulant child.

“That’s not always what they do, Mrs. Giordano,” Kyle interjected, perhaps suspecting Forrester might yell again. “My mother died of breast cancer, but she had a lot of other health problems, like diabetes. There are always new improvements in medicine. Dr. Sullivan is a very cutting-edge physician.”

“You think he won’t cut it off?” she asked hopefully.

“I’m a lawyer, not a doctor. But even if he has to perform a mastectomy, you can get reconstructive surgery. And if they fix one, they fix the other. Your breasts will be as perky as they were when you were eighteen.”

Ma chuckled, and Forrester gaped. Never in his life had he pictured his boyfriend would use the words perky and breasts in reference to his mother.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, Mrs. Giordano,” Kyle went on with that smile and those dimples that always turned Forrester’s insides into jelly, “you’re a very beautiful woman. When it’s all said and done, maybe Forrester and I can take you shopping and maybe to get a new hairdo. New shoes. You can get a whole new look to go with your new breasts.”

“Jeez, Sal at the meat market won’t leave me alone then.” Though her words held an air of sarcasm, she’d calmed down considerably, maybe even to the point of reason.

“What do you mean Sal won’t leave you alone?” Forrester demanded.

“He’s always after me for a date,” she said with a schoolgirl blush.

“I’ll talk to him. I don’t like the idea of that grubby old man hitting on you.”

“Oh, get over it, Forrester,” Kyle teased. “Your mom is a total MILF. Who wouldn’t hit on her?”

Ma swatted Kyle’s arm. “All right, Eddie Haskel. I know what that means.”

“You do?” Forrester’s jaw dropped.

“Yes, and you’re far too young for me, young man. Though if I were younger….” She muttered something in Italian as she stood.

“Jeez, Ma!” Forrester cried when he realized what she said.

“What did you say?” Kyle wanted to know.

“She said she wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eatin’ crackers,” he whispered like he was cursing in a church.

Kyle smiled. “I need to learn Italian.”

“Now I want you boys to eat,” Ma announced. “I’ve had enough of this depressing talk.”

“Only if you let me call the oncologist,” Kyle said. “Chuck’s wife is a friend of mine. Maybe I can get you an appointment sooner.”

“And I’ll call Amanda,” Forrester said, thinking out loud. “And Missy. She’s a nurse. They should go with us to the appointment.”

“You’re not calling them.”

“Why not?” Forrester was taken aback by the vehemence in her tone.

“You’re not telling anyone about this.”

Forrester threw out his hands in frustration. “Jeez, you kiddin’ me?”

“I don’t wanna ruin the Fourth of July. You boys have a game Saturday, and then I have a church picnic on Sunday. And Tony and Missy are having a party on Monday. Tony built a brand-new deck. You should see it. It’s so nice. He’s been cooking all week, and I don’t want to ruin his party.”

“God forbid. And what’s he cooking anyway? Quinoa and kale?”

“Why would he do that?”

Forrester waved his hands around. Though he was irritated at Ma, it was easier to focus that irritation elsewhere. “I don’t know,” he snapped. “Tony was lecturing me about what I eat, like all of a sudden he’s Mr. Healthy because his wife’s a vegetarian. I could just see him pulling a stunt like that.”

“Since when is Missy vegetarian?”

“Ever since we knew her.”

She huffed. “You think ya know somebody.”

You would think. “So you’re gonna tell the family Tuesday?”

“We’ll see.”