As I begin to shake and quiver, he mumbles, “I wish you’d say yes. That you’ll come with me.”
If he wasn’t mourning and trying to escape reality, I’d believe that he wants me with him. I know better. People say things they don’t mean when they’re in pain.
By the time July arrives, Dad and I have finally merged the three East Coast branches into one. We acquired a building in Quincy, Massachusetts. Instead of paying an expensive lease in the middle of downtown Boston, we own a place where we can have all the employees from the DC, New York, and Boston branches.
Dad asks me to stay another year in Massachusetts. The same day I agree, Mom calls me. The doctor diagnosed her with stage 2 breast cancer. The news feels like a punch in the gut. Even though Canada has a great health system, I convince her to move to Boston so I can take care of her.
I find the best oncologist in Boston. Two weeks after she moves in with me, she’s scheduled for surgery.
Eros: I don’t want to take this personally, but your one-word responses for the past month worry me. Are you okay?
Eros: Are WE okay?
I choose not to answer. If I speak to anyone about what’s happening with Mom, I might start crying, and I’ll never stop. Dad knows about the diagnosis because Mom reached out to him too. She wants to make sure I’m taken care of if she doesn’t make it. Every time Dad brings the subject up in our conversation or our texts, I stop him.
Once the doctor tells me that Mom is doing well, I’ll break the silence.
Not answering the texts doesn’t stop Eros from trying to reach me. He calls. Letting it go to voicemail doesn’t work. I answered after the fifth attempt.
“Hello.”
“Finally.” He sighs. “What’s going on, Livy?”
“What do you mean?” I play dumb.
“The last time I heard from you, you said your mom was sick,” he states. “It’s been almost three weeks. Since then, I only get monosyllabic answers from you.”
“I’m not in a good place.”
“No kidding.” He sighs. “What’s happening?”
“I’d rather not discuss this until she’s in remission.”
“Listen, I don’t know much about the subject, but that can be years,” he says, exhaling harshly.
“She’s having a double mastectomy tomorrow,” I say. “After that, she has a few rounds of radiation and chemotherapy.”
“Are you in Canada?”
“No. I brought her to Boston with me.”
“Good.” He sighs, relieved.
My doorbell rings. “Hey, someone is at the door. I need to go. Can I call you later?”
“When is later?”
“I don’t know,” I say, as honestly as I can answer.
He hangs up the phone. If he’s upset, I don’t care. There are a million more important issues that need to be addressed before I worry about this call.
The doorbell rings again. I roll my eyes. The stupid intercom broke down last week, and the management company hasn’t fixed it yet. It’s probably Mom. She keeps forgetting the keys in the house. I should’ve gone with her to the mall, but she wanted to go alone. Perhaps because I would’ve paid for whatever she needed to buy.
When I reach the main entrance door, I do a double take. Through the glass, I spot Eros. He knocks on the window.
“You’re here,” I state as I swing the door open.
He takes me into his arms. “It’s going to be okay,” he assures me.
My throat has been clogged with tears since Mom gave me the news. I’ve been holding it together up until now. I begin sobbing. One moment I’m downstairs, and the next, we’re on my couch. I let out everything I’ve been repressing. He mumbles soothing words. I’m not sure how long I stay in his embrace or when I fall asleep.
“Hey, sleepyhead, it’s time for dinner.” Eros’s deep, husky voice wakes me up.
“You’re not a dream,” I mumble with a raspy voice.
“Did you rest?” He dusts kisses around my face.
I nod. “Thank you for… Why are you here?”
“You’ve been weird for the past few weeks. I put two and two together. On my way here, I decided to text because what if you weren’t in town.”
“Wait, did you say dinner?” I ask, worried about Mom.
He nods. “Your mom and I decided not to wake you up until dinner was ready.”
“You met Mom?” I flinch.
“Yes, I met Beatriz. She’s a lovely lady,” he answers. “She’s inquisitive, though.”
“That’s a nice way of calling her nosy.”
He grins. “You haven’t met my mother. Your mom is nothing compared to mine,” he says as if warning me.
“So why were you avoiding me?”
I shake my head.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the lady was trying to handle this by herself,” he states. “Why would you do that?”
“Saying it out loud makes it real.” I almost choke. “Mom’s sick. Do you know how many women die of breast cancer?”
I press the heel of my hands against my eyelids. I don’t want to cry again.
“It’s okay to cry,” he mumbles, hugging me. “You’re afraid to lose her. She’s going to be fine, but I understand your fear. No one wants to lose a loved one.”
“I’m trying to be strong for her,” I sob.
“You’re doing a great job,” he says encouragingly. “She told me that you brought her to Boston within days of learning about her diagnosis. You got her the best care, and she’s having surgery tomorrow. You’re taking time off from work to look after her.”
“It’s the least I could do for her.” I sniff.
“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t like people to notice that you’re a loving person.” He presses a kiss on the top of my head. “Let’s go have dinner. Tomorrow will be a long day. We need to rest. The next eight weeks are going to be daunting.”
“You say it like you’ll be here.”
“I’m staying by your side.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eros
Looking at Olivia’s family life, I’m thankful for my crazy family. I can’t fathom what it’d be like to have a sick parent and be alone in a waiting room. When my parents are sick, Nyx, Persy, and I look after them. Since Nate and Ford joined the family, they love and treat Mom and Dad as if they were their parents too.
For the past twenty-four hours, I’ve been tempted to ask her why she didn’t reach out to me. I don’t understand Liv. When my sisters need anything, they call me no matter the time of the day. I do the same. The day her father had a heart attack, it was the same. She called to cancel our dinner, not to ask me to be with her.
How can I make her understand that she can count on me? She’s not alone.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“I wish I had been here for you from the beginning,” I state.
“When are you heading next to Costa Rica?”