She squeezed my hand. “Yesterday,” she told me quietly.
Yesterday. Razorblades chewed at my stomach. I had been worrying about my own inconsequential self, my mom was facing this news alone. I’d been avoiding contact with her because I couldn’t cope with voicing something that was dwarfed by the news she’d been dealing with.
I blinked away tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. “I would have come, I would have—”
“Peanut, I didn’t want you to have to be dragged along to some depressing hospital.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Those places are full of germs anyway. I wouldn’t want you catching something for my sake,” she continued, thinking of anyone but herself, like always.
“Mom, I would’ve come. I would’ve been there for you,” I declared shakily. “It’s fixable, right? They can fix you?” I continued. My frantic mind clung to the fact that she didn’t look sick, so she couldn’t be that sick. They found it early. They’d fix her.
She squeezed my hand. “We give this positive thought, and I’m sure the universe will heal me. It wouldn’t be so cruel to take me away without seeing my baby girl set the world on fire,” she replied with a small smile.
She was wrong.
The universe was that cruel.
Cruel enough to plague my mother, the woman who ate only organic, vegetarian, didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, with a disease that took everything from her.
That also took everything from me.
I opened the door to the persistent pounding that had penetrated the sound of the loud music playing in the house. Mom was in the studio out back, switched off to the world. She was feeling inspired again, I didn’t want to interrupt her if painting got her through right now, I’d give it to her. I’d been lying on my old bed staring at the ceiling, feeling too numb to cry, or to do anything. I’d been Googling Pancreatic cancer for a while, but the low survival rates and the description had me first running to the bathroom to throw up, then bursting into a fit of tears.
My mind had been whirling, swimming in the complexities that came with that evil word. Cancer.
We were going back to the doctors tomorrow. I was meant to go back home today, back to school tomorrow, but there was no way mom could convince me to. I wouldn’t let her go through one step more of this alone. I’d drop out of college and move back here if that’s what it took.
I’d had multiple calls on my cell from a blocked number throughout the past few days, and had ignored them initially because of shame. Shame at the realization that I’d never be able to be whoever Asher needed. That I couldn’t function in his world. He may have taken my breath away, but situations like the one I’d been in the other morning stole it from me, left me gasping.
He had texted me first. I had no idea how he’d even gotten my number.
Asher: Babe. Thought I made myself clear, I didn’t want you going anywhere. Where the fuck are you?
There was no greeting nor sign off. Obviously, Asher decided he needed no introduction. I had immediately deleted the text. I’d desperately wanted to respond, to answer the calls, but I didn’t even know what I’d say. What explanation could I give?
My phone had dinged earlier today, before the news.
Asher: You don’t want this? Then let me know. But I know you do. We both do. Don’t run from this.
I had entertained the idea of responding, of trying to be brave and follow my heart, try to ignore my traitorous head. He’d still been in the back of my mind throughout all this. That was the problem. How selfish could I be? My mom was just diagnosed with cancer, I was worrying about my love life? No. I had to take care of her. That had to be over. It never would have worked anyway. I could barely function in the world my mom had brought me up in, the one with happiness and free love and no judgment. Their world—the scary, enticing and dangerous world would chew me up and spit me out.
So when I’d opened the door, I hadn’t been ready. I had been raw.
“What the fuck, Lily?” I was immediately greeted with a hot and enormous biker taking up the doorway. His eyes were blazing with anger.
I jerked in surprise then whipped my head behind me to make sure Mom wasn’t in the immediate vicinity. She did not need this. I quickly stepped out of the door, closing it behind me. This motion caused me to get right in Asher’s grill, my body brushing his. I tried to scramble out of his manly stratosphere, but hands on my hips stopped me.
I ignored this. Or tried to. “What are you doing here?” I hissed. “Are you stalking me?” I added, registering the fact that he not only knew where my mom lived, but also the fact that I was here and not in Tasman Springs.