You got this diagnosis but what do you do now?
How do you try to deal with it?
This procedure has given my mom and me a lot of hope, and it's not for naught. I’m thankful that even if things don't work out well, I have this good feeling of hope to hold on to at this moment.
While my mom is getting her blood drawn and I sit in the waiting room, Dante calls me.
"How's it going?" I fill him in on everything that has happened and then realize that maybe this is just too much information.
"Maybe I shouldn't be telling you all this."
"Why not?” he asks.
"I don't know…but we haven't even been on our first date yet, and it feels like I'm talking to you like we've been dating for three months."
"What if we just fast-forward?” Dante asks.
That catches me by surprise. I shuffle my feet along the linoleum floor and run my finger over the same piece of dry paint on the wall.
“Look, I like you a lot,” Dante continues. “This is happening in your life, and I want to know what's going on. It's up to you to tell me or not, but I'm here to listen."
The words hit just the right spot. I suddenly get completely overwhelmed and tears start to stream down my cheeks.
"Are you okay? What's going on?"
"No, I'm just ... I'm just …” I choke up. “That was just such a nice thing to say. I had ... I don't know. That was just a really good thing to say."
I find myself repeating my words over and over. When Mom comes out from the back office I tell him that I have to go.
"How did everything go?” I ask.
"Fine. All done for today. Now, I just have to wait for tomorrow. What should we do tonight?"
"Anything you want," I say.
“Okay.” Mom smiles mischievously. “Then tell me about this guy you've been talking to."
26
Jacqueline
Mom wants to know about Dante. It's hard for me to figure out what I should and shouldn't say. I gloss over some details.
At first, I pretend like what we have is no big deal, but she doesn't buy it. She knows that I'm acting differently. She knows that I'm waiting around for a call and I'm texting a lot.
We order pizza and sit in the makeshift temporary living room. It feels a lot like a long-term stay hotel. I tell Mom that I met Dante at a club, not mentioning any specifics.
She knows that I've been going out a lot ever since we lost Michael, meeting lots of strangers, assuming that he's just one of many. But she suspects that something is different about him.
"Tell me what he's like," she asks.
"Mysterious," is the only thing I can say.
It feels so cliche and yet that's really the only word for it. I tell her what he does for a living.
"Well, I'm glad that you have something interesting happening," Mom says. "It's important. You haven't dated anyone in a while."
"Yeah. I know.” I wave my hand.
"Listen, I worry about that kind of thing. You know, you're my child and I want you to be happy."
"Please, the next thing that you're going to say is that I'm getting up there in age.”
"No, not at all, but having a long-term committed relationship can be very fulfilling. You’ll have someone to support and love you. I want that for you.”
Before Dad became a gambler and an addict, he was a journalist. I followed in his footsteps and sometimes I hate that. My resentments toward him are innumerable, but he’s still my father and I still miss him.
My mom met my dad on campus at the University of Florida. She went there to get away from the cold winters. My father drove down from Michigan to meet some girls and occasionally go to class. He was always really into the partying and not so much into the studying.
He got a scholarship and he met the most unlikely woman to steal his heart, my mom, who would usually spend the weekends at the library. The fact that she turned him away multiple times made him flock to her like a moth to a flame. He liked the challenge. He liked that she said no. He told me this many times.
Eventually he brought her out of her shell. She was shy and awkward, a little scrawny with thick bottle cap glasses and frizzy hair that the humidity did no favors for.
He invited her to his parties. He introduced her to his friends and she changed, but in a good way. She didn't change who she was, but she found that she could be someone who was fun and outgoing and the life of the party if she wanted to. That's what she always told me she loved most about Dad at that time. He made it okay for her to take chances. He made it a safe place for her to fall.
He worked as a promoter at clubs, trying to bring in the local crowds. They started out as friends, but after a while, they became closer than that. He took her to see Bob Dylan.
They first hooked up during spring break when Dad was booking a bunch of local clubs. He was working around the clock as the kids partied and Mom helped him put out the pamphlets. There was a time before the internet where you had to hand deliver fliers and actually entice people to come in by standing out front.
As it turned out, Mom was able to become somewhat of an extrovert at this time. She told me about how she got her hair done and would have a few shots to “take off the edge." And after that, she would loosen up.
“She just needed a little liquid courage,” Dad said.
For someone like my mom, who's naturally shy, alcohol allowed her to open up and realize that people weren't at all that scary.
Back then Dad's drinking was just social. He knew how to have a good time, but he never blacked out like a lot of his other friends did. He'd have a few beers and he'd nurse one the rest of the night just to keep the party going.
Mom always talked about those days very fondly.
I guess, many people feel that way about college, but for her, college was where she met the love of her life.
We talk about Dad again. Not the dad from the later years, but the dad that I knew a little bit as a kid and the dad that Michael loved.
This was the dad who taught us how to ride a bike and the importance of always wearing a helmet.
This was the dad who took us hiking and taught us how to ski.
This was the dad that I want back in my life. This was the dad and the husband that I wish my mom had now.
Even now, despite everything that happened, I know that what they had was real.
I know that what they had was real love. It just got all fucked up, the way that love sometimes gets when it's thrown into the real world with all of its problems and addictions and lies.
27
Dante
I arrive on Cape Cod on a particularly gloomy, overcast day. The weather continues to threaten to break into rolling thunderstorms, but nothing happens except for low-hanging clouds and a bunch of drizzle.
Some of my fondest memories of growing up are at this estate. There's a main four-bedroom home that Mom occupies as well as two guest cottages for overnight guests whenever she has family or friends over.
Every time I come back here, I feel like it becomes a time warp. This is the house where I spent the first seven years of my life.