Twenty-Five

A bellyaching laugh rose from Maggie’s couch. “Oh, Sue, you’re killing me!”

Setting a bag of frozen blueberries on the counter, Riley broke out into a smile. It’s good she’s enjoying something. Maggie hadn’t had a lot to laugh about recently, but this call from a former work colleague was brightening her Tuesday afternoon considerably. As much as mother and daughter liked to swear by ‘third time lucky’, this cancer fight was taking its toll on Maggie’s body as well as her spirit, so any little distraction—a new release on Netflix, a bag of donut holes, or a phone call from an old friend now living in Kentucky—was celebrated and very welcome.

Maggie’s favorite distraction sat beside the blender on the kitchen counter, her birthday gift from Riley—a ‘book of the month’ subscription box, which she worked double shifts to pay for. Just two months into the program, bookworm Maggie was already addicted to the mid-month deliveries, giddy for the next book to be devoured. She couldn’t have asked for a more thoughtful gift from her daughter, but for Riley, the present was something more. The yearlong purchase was an act of faith that said, You’re going to be here a year from now, Mom.

Riley pored over the recipe on her phone one more time. Blueberries, lime juice, balsamic vinegar… Since Maggie’s chemo regime had changed, her taste and smell were off, making eating unpleasant, sometimes impossible, and yet, she’d developed weird cravings for limes and raw snap peas. She couldn’t afford to lose any more weight, so Riley was following the advice of the cancer clinic’s nutritionist, making healthy but easy-to-tolerate smoothies and snacks, like blueberry yogurt parfaits. The ingredients had cost more than her mom had given her, but Riley covered the shortfall without saying a word. Skipping lunch was a small price to pay if her mom felt a little better.

A text invaded her screen. Josh again, fifth text within twenty minutes—another video. Slick with sweat and grunting, he was doing CrossFit handstand pushups against the wall of his college’s gym. His soaked tank top had slipped down exposing his rock-hard six-pack. Someone was whooping and clapping in the background.

Riley couldn’t deny it: Josh, in his flimsy exercise shorts that flaunted every bulge and outline, looked mouthwateringly hot. If she had received these messages last year, she would be texting back, craving a FaceTime rendezvous as soon as she was somewhere private. But, today, his horny onslaught wasn’t turning her on; it was testing her patience. She had already texted back three times, telling him she couldn’t hook up over FaceTime, not with Maggie in the next room and a mandatory four o’clock lecture just hours away. If he kept this up, she’d have to mute her phone.

She set it down and reached into a cupboard, grabbing the sugar. A sharp twinge rippled through her upper back, her wince morphing into a thankful giggle. The outing with Ben, complete with awkward goodbye, had left her with a souvenir: pulled muscles from their flirty dancing during Salt-N-Pepa’s “Push It”. She felt immediately nostalgic for the night before. The cheesy eighties disco had proven to be a lift she so desperately needed, even if the fairy tale faded as soon as the gaudy awning outside her apartment came into view. Ben was a fun and willing sidekick, and best of all, the words ‘cancer’, ‘debt’, and ‘poor you’ never once fell from his lips. Maybe that was the life hack? Don’t share your greatest fears or worries with your friends, and you too can forget they exist—for a few hours at least. What better way to play make-believe than with an actor, and a hot one at that.

The bottle of lime juice lit up, illuminated by her nearby phone. Another text. Her shoulders fell. Josh?

Ben.

Ben! A jolt of electricity shot through Riley’s veins. She read his message.

Riles!!! Mission accmplished!!!!

That was it. Ben’s excessive use of exclamation marks and dyslexic spelling were a far cry from Josh’s bulging muscles. Hmm. With an eye on her phone, she poured the berries into a saucepan. Would Ben elaborate?

DING. An attachment arrived—a Spotify playlist simply titled ‘4 Riles!!!’

She opened it, finding “The Sun Always Shines on TV” by a-ha and nothing else. Great title. I like! Parfait-making could wait. She bent down and pulled her tangled earbud cords from her tote.

The song began slowly with tentative synthesizer chords and the singer’s falsetto vocals soaring over top. Riley scratched her eyebrow. Where is this going? But then the song shrugged off its intro and built up and up and up into a crash of electronic drums and racing guitars, a circus of urgency. Rallying her attention, its keyboards pulsated with reckless abandon, but it was the song’s evocative lyrics that took her breath away. They sounded like thoughts she had jotted down in her journal—now abandoned—six months earlier…

A lump grew in Riley’s throat. My journal matches this song. It’s so true, so…me. The rawness, the familiarity—someone else had written the song’s words, but they spoke to her heart about her fears, her hopes. Depression was always lurking over her shoulder, but maybe one day she’d have the power to look it in the eye and defeat it for good—or at least be better at taming it.

Don’t let Mom see me like this. She wiped away a tear, thankful Maggie was on the other side of the wall, merrily chatting away on her phone.

Ben’s adorable English accent played in her head. “I bet I can find an eighties song that speaks to you.”

Mission accmplished, Brit boy. Mission accmplished.

• • •

“What class do you have this afternoon?” A small amount of blueberry yogurt parfait remained in Maggie’s tall glass.

“The senior colloquium.”

“That’s lectures, isn’t it?”

“Yep. I have to stay awake for this one. The speaker is an assistant director at Warner Bros., and she’s talking about working with actors and procedures on set in Burbank.”

“Sounds right up your alley.” Maggie licked her spoon. “If you have to leave now, sweetheart, I’ll be fine. I can’t wait to dive into my new book.”

“I can stay for another forty minutes. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Riley’s chuckle quickly retreated along with her smile as her spoon dug around her glass of yogurt and granola, a weighty silence settling over the table.

“Honey…” Maggie bit the corner of her lip. “Is something bothering you—”

“No.”

“Riley.” She covered her daughter’s hand with her own. “Don’t shut me out. Talk to me. Something’s up…”

Shit. Riley stuffed a spoonful of granola in her mouth. “I’m fine.” She mumbled while chewing. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Maggie sighed. “I should’ve made you go back.”

“Go back? Where?” Riley swallowed. “My apartment?”

“To therapy—when you were in high school.”

“W-What? Why?”

“You seemed happier.” Maggie’s chin quivered. “But it didn’t last and I didn’t do anything about it. I let you down.”

Riley’s eyes widened. “No, you didn’t. You had just been diagnosed with cervical cancer.”

“Cancer doesn’t erase parental responsibilities.”

“You make it sound like I went without food or shelter. Mom, you were in agony, recovering from surgery, dealing with radiation, chemo. Your hands were more than full! And I did okay, didn’t I? I still made honor roll, volunteered at the shelter, kept my part-time job.”

“And I was so proud of you! But if you’d kept up your sessions, maybe your depression wouldn’t have recurred. Maybe you wouldn’t be feeling like this again. Riley, we need to talk about it. We need to deal with it, properly. It’s nothing to be ashamed about—”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Everyone gets sad sometimes. That’s life.”

“But this is more than being sad, sweetheart.”

It is, but… Riley chipped at a cluster of almonds and oats with her spoon.

Maggie ducked her head, trying to see past Riley’s hair. “It’s Josh, isn’t it? The engagement.”

Riley’s body tensed. CRUNCH. The spoon broke through the chunk of granola. Crap. Her eyebrows lifted innocently. “Josh? No.” A half-smile fought her stiff cheeks.

Maggie squeezed her hand. “Riley, you can call it off.”

She avoided her mom’s gaze, her throat tightening, refusing to give in. “I don’t want to call it off.”

“If you’re happy and want to spend the rest of your life with him, I’ll support your decision, but if you’re unsure, feeling pressured, or scared about breaking up with him, you can tell me. I’ll listen and we’ll work through it together.”

“I want to marry him.” Why isn’t she buying it? Riley met her mom’s eyes, her voice flat yet determined. “Why do I have to justify my decision?”

“When you talk about it, you don’t look happy—and that scares me.”

Riley scoffed, pulling her hand away. “What you see is exhaustion, Mom. I’m scrambling to complete everything before graduation and I haven’t slept well for weeks. My apartment is hell on wheels—it’s boiling and sweaty and I’m lucky if I can catch four hours a night.”

“And my situation isn’t helping.” Maggie adjusted the pretty blue scarf on her head.

“I’d worry about you even if you didn’t have cancer. You’re my mom, and I love you more than anything.”

Maggie smiled softly.

“Things will be better after graduation.” Swirling the last pieces of granola around her glass, she leaned forward and swallowed heavily, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t move, lending a stilted quality to her words. “The stress will be gone.”

“I remember the therapist saying a recurrence can be triggered by a major life change—”

Riley nodded. “Like graduation.”

“—like an engagement,” said Maggie, their words clashing.

Riley dropped the spoon in her glass. “The engagement has nothing to do with it.”

“I wish I believed that. Look at me, honey. If that’s the truth…”

I can’t. Riley picked at her fingernails.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Maggie wrapped a loving arm around her daughter, pulling her in. “You’re young and your life is opening up to so many possibilities. Why get married now? Why rush?”

I can’t tell her why. Make something up. “B-Because we’ve already spent three years apart and we can’t do it any longer.” Tears stung her eyes for the lie that was leaving her lips and for the fear that her plan was about to fall apart. She couldn’t fail her mom.

“But what’s another year? Have a long engagement. Give yourselves time to settle into your careers, and then set a date. So much is changing for you both, and you’ve worked so hard at college. Don’t let everything you’ve learned go to waste. Josh will be following his dream—you should follow yours, too.”

Don’t. Don’t cry…stick to the script. “I want us to be together.”

“But your life—your happiness—isn’t defined by sharing the same carpet, Riley. How will you thrive if you’re disappointed, resentful? It’s hard watching your husband do what he’s always wanted while your dreams stay on the shelf. Trust me on that.”

Riley’s eyebrows peaked. “You and Dad?”

Maggie nodded slowly.

“What?” Riley eased back. “I thought—”

“Marketing was my calling? Honestly, is it anyone’s?” Maggie chuckled. “No, my dream was to own a little bookshop close to home. I planned to have a counter selling fresh coffee, muffins…it was going to be a comfy hangout that celebrated a love of good books.”

“Sounds incredible.”

“Yeah, but the idea faded, lost somewhere between your fourth birthday and Bradley leaving us.”

“How come?”

“We got turned down for a loan. Bradley said we’d apply again once he got the promotion he was promised, so we both kept working and saving. A couple years passed, still no promotion. I figured if we weren’t going to try for another loan right away, we should try for a baby. You were growing up so quickly. I wanted to give you a brother or sister while you were still little, but Bradley wanted a bigger house first. So, a new house and a baby were added to the ‘when Bradley gets a promotion’ list. Then he finally got the promotion in 2003—and a year later, he was on the Upper West Side with Clarissa.”

“Oh, Mom.”

“He went for exactly what he wanted. I waited for my turn and it never came. Goodbye dream, goodbye new baby…hello divorce. After he left, I saved and planned, and a few years later, I was approved for a loan, but then it was cancer’s turn to put an end to the bookshop.”

Riley’s eyes teared up. “Mom, I’m so sorry.” She leaned in. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were so mad at your dad, and I didn’t want to throw more gasoline on that fire. I didn’t want anger to hold you back, especially when you were diagnosed with depression. You’ve been through enough. You know I’d do anything to keep you from getting hurt.”

And I’d do anything to keep you from losing everything.

“All I’m saying is: don’t wait for your turn. If Josh loves you with all his heart, he’ll be cheering you on in LA, knowing that when the time is right, you’ll be by his side as his equal, not his shadow. You’ve never been anyone’s shadow—why start now?”

“So, I shouldn’t move to Minnesota?”

“I can’t make that decision for you, sweetheart.” Maggie reached over, her thumb drying a stray tear sliding down Riley’s cheek. “But I just…wish you’d put yourself first. No one else will. I know what it’s like to love someone so much you’ll do anything for them, but you can’t lose who you are in order to do that. It’s not worth it. You’ll always wonder about the what-ifs? Stay true to yourself, Riley—always. Promise me?”

Riley licked her lips. “But what if staying true to yourself means you’ll hurt other people?” Josh…you…

“Hopefully they’ll understand. The people who really love you will always understand.” Maggie kissed her daughter on the temple like she had done a thousand times before when easing the pain of a scraped knee, a hockey loss in overtime, and all the other heartaches Riley had faced growing up. Her mom smiled and returned to her parfait.

Turning back to hers, Riley’s stomach dipped.

Kiss and make it better? If only that would work this time, Mom.