Maybe It's Fate, page 5
I was positive Miriam would let him go, but she knew the kids and their parents and knew who to trust. I didn’t.
“What time would I have to pick you up?” I worried about Nova. She needed her sleep. Cutter did as well, but being nine years older than her, he could manage.
“Coach Schmidt could bring me home,” Cutter said. “He lives down the street from us.”
Cutter’s face fell when he saw me grimace. I wanted to say yes but felt uncomfortable doing so. I didn’t know his coach, and Miri had never mentioned him. That didn’t mean she wasn’t a fan; he just wasn’t someone we’d ever chatted about.
Nova tugged on the corner of my jacket. I looked down at her. Her wide, expressive hazel eyes bored into mine. She waggled her index finger at me. I bent and listened.
She cupped my ear and whispered, “Can I go for ice cream?”
I did the same. “Why are you whispering?”
“Because Cutter gets pissy if I go.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t say ‘pissy,’ and yes, we’ll go for ice cream.” I rose to my full height and nodded at Cutter. “How about we all go, but Nova and I will sit far away from you and the team?”
Cutter smirked. “It’s not that serious.”
Brat.
Miri had mentioned his attitude and that he was at times defiant and snarky. I’d reminded her that I’d been the same way with my parents, and this was a stage most of us went through. Everyone but her. She never would’ve dared to cross her parents. The repercussions would have been far too grave, evident by the fact that she hadn’t seen them since she was seventeen.
Nova and I followed Cutter out of the gym and to my car. As we approached, he turned to me with a glint in his eyes, which immediately put me on alert.
“Can I drive?”
I shook my head. “No, thanks.”
He sighed dramatically and threw his head back. “Come on, Toni.”
“Nope, not with Nova in the car.” I pressed the fob to unlock the doors. Nova followed me around to the driver’s side and got in behind me, while Cutter dumped his bag in the back seat and then sat in the front.
“Brendan would let me drive.”
“Brendan isn’t here,” I reminded him as I started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. “Where is the ice cream place?”
“On Main,” he muttered, pressing his head to the window.
“You played well.” I hoped to break whatever the tension was between us.
“Thanks. Coach says I have a shot at playing in college.”
“Really? That’s great.”
“Yep,” Cutter said, a little perkier this time. “This summer will be a good test. We’re going to travel south for some big tournaments.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” I turned onto Main Street and began looking for a place to park. Cutter pointed to a spot, which I effortlessly paralleled into.
“You have to teach me how to parallel park,” he said as he unbuckled his seat belt. “Mom refuses to park on the street unless she can pull in.”
“I’ll teach you,” I said as I put my car into park and shut it off. I glanced at Nova through my rearview mirror. She looked tired but had unbuckled. Honestly, she deserved ice cream. We all did. Once we were on the sidewalk, I asked Cutter again what he’d meant by “we.”
“My travel team,” he said as he held the door to the ice cream parlor open. Despite it being winter, the place was packed, mostly with teens from the basketball game. We took our place in line and waited.
“Go on.”
“Oh, right.” Cutter shook his head. “I played with them over the summer. Do you remember when you and Brendan came to my games in Boston?”
I nodded.
“That’s the team. We did really well, and Coach is going to take us farther south, where we’ll find better competition and more scouts.”
“What are the scouts for?”
“College,” Cutter said as we moved forward. “The tournaments give scouts a chance to see a ton of players at the same time.”
“So this summer travel is for basketball?”
“It’s for baseball too,” he said. “Coach has the schedule down to a science—at least that’s what he says. He makes sure there isn’t any overlap.”
“Overlap?”
“You know, for those of us who play two sports. Like I’ll never have a basketball tournament on the same weekend there’s a baseball tournament.”
“Ah,” I said, pretending to understand. If it wasn’t for Cutter, I probably wouldn’t have ever seen a game of any kind. Whenever Brendan went to one of the many sporting events in Boston, I tended to stay home, where it was quiet and not crowded.
Cutter, Nova, and I ordered. Once we had our ice creams, he went to sit with his team while Nova and I found a spot for the two of us. She ordered vanilla with sprinkles, while I went with my favorite: black raspberry and chocolate.
“Do you want a bite?”
She shook her head no. “Do you want a bite of mine?”
I nodded and leaned forward, taking the spoonful from her. “So good,” I muttered with my mouth full. “Do you want to try mine?” I asked her again. Nova was a fussy eater. Miri tried to get her to try everything, but Nova often refused.
She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “No, thanks.”
I shrugged. “Oh well, more for me.”
Nova and I finished and then colored on the place mats for a bit while we waited for Cutter. In hindsight, I should’ve texted Miri and asked her if it was okay for Cutter’s coach to bring him home. It was cold out, Nova and I were both tired, and my mind was elsewhere.
When she began rubbing her eyes, I told her I’d be right back and went to get Cutter, knowing full well I could face his teenage wrath, making me miss the sweet little boy he’d been.
As I approached the group of kids, I gave Cutter a soft but apologetic smile. He rolled his eyes and groaned audibly. “Sorry,” I said when he came near. “It is a school night, and Nova needs to get to bed.”
Cutter, in all his teenage angst, walked past me and out the door without waiting for me and his sister. I sighed heavily and went back to Nova to gather our things. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go home.”
“How come Cutter is a butthead?”
“He’s salty because I won’t let him stay out later.”
“Mommy would be sooo mad at him right now.”
Well, this is good to know.
“Yeah . . .”
The ride home was quiet. When we got to the house, Cutter slammed the car door twice and stomped up the stairs. I ignored him. It was the only way to deal with a sullen teenager, according to the wise words of my mother.
After Nova’s bath and a bedtime story, I tucked her in and left her door ajar. Bracing for attitude, I then knocked on Cutter’s door.
“Yeah?”
I cracked it open a bit. “Do you take the bus in the morning?”
“Mom usually takes me.”
“Okay, what time do we need to leave?”
Cutter gave me the time and told me to drop Nova off after him.
“Okay, good night, Cutter.”
“Toni?”
He said my name as I began closing the door. There had been a time when I was “Ant Toni,” making a play on my name, but he hadn’t called me that since he’d turned thirteen. I missed those days.
“What’s up?”
“Is Mom okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
Cutter shrugged. “The last couple of months, she hasn’t been feeling well. She had a cough and said it was nothing, but she seemed very tired.”
I let his words sink in and worked hard to mask my facial expressions. “When she gets home tomorrow, I’ll ask her.”
He stared, long and hard. No doubt trying to figure out if I was lying or not. I hated lying to him. When he was little, I promised to always tell him the truth. But I’d also promised Miri. Besides, his mother wasn’t home because she was having testing done, and if it turned out she was sick, that would be something Miriam would have to tell her children.
“Good night,” I said after a long silence. Cutter gave me a half smile and turned in his swivel chair toward his desk. Slowly, I closed the door and stood there for a moment with my fist poised to knock again. I remembered being a teen and how hard life seemed then, and that was when life was easy. Of course, I could only say that because being an adult with bills and responsibilities wasn’t all that fun.
I walked down the hall to Miri’s room and went in. It was better for me to believe she was away at work than lying in the hospital. As I crawled into her bed, I thought about calling her but didn’t want to wake her. Knowing her, though, she was likely staring out the window, looking at the stars. I got up, opened her blinds, and then texted her: I’m looking at the stars.
Me too, she texted back right away.
This would be enough for the night.
The next morning, after dropping the kids off at school, I called Brendan to check in and told him I should be back by dinner. I was that optimistic about Miri’s test results. On my way to the hospital, I stopped and got us both coffees and doughnuts, even though the latter wasn’t on any approved list. Hers or mine.
“Knock knock,” I said as I pushed my way into her room. I had forgotten she was technically in a shared room, but she was the only one in there at the moment. When I came around the curtain, Miri’s face lit up when she saw the muted grayish-brown recyclable tray in my hands. “I’m probably going to get into trouble for bringing junk food.”
“I don’t care.” Miri sat up in bed and reached for her coffee. She took a sip and sighed. “The nurse brought some this morning, bless her heart. It was trash. I don’t know how they survive on that sludge.”
“That’s probably what keeps them functioning.”
Miri reached for the bag and took out the fresh Boston cream doughnut. “Did you get these at the Cozy Cup Café?”
“I did. Cutter said you liked their pastries.”
“Samira has become a good friend.”
I popped an eyebrow at my lifelong friend. “Are you replacing me?”
Miri didn’t miss a beat and nodded. “Samira lives here. You don’t.”
“Ouch. That hurts.”
Miri shrugged. “Such is life.”
“When do your results come back?” I took a drink of the coffee, looked at the cup, and nodded my approval. “This is good.”
Miri looked at me smugly, as if I was a fool to doubt her.
“This morning. The nurse said a doctor would be by before they started their rounds.”
“You haven’t met with a doctor yet?” I was confused. Who had she been seeing since they’d admitted her?
“No, just the assistants or whatever they’re called. Medical assistant, I think?”
I didn’t know whether to agree or not, so I filled her in on my elevator trip from the day before and how I’d been tempted to ask the doctor I’d ridden up with if any of the romantic stuff in Grey’s Anatomy was accurate but had held my tongue.
“I’m sure it’s fictionalized,” she said.
“Really? You don’t think doctors and nurses get heated or overly emotional and need a release?”
Miri shook her head. “You need to read a book.”
“I read last night, thank you very much. Speaking of which, Cutter’s attitude gave me whiplash.”
She nodded and sighed heavily. “He has a girlfriend and her parents are strict, which I appreciate. I’m trying to give him leeway, but then I think about me and . . .”
I reached for her hand and held it. “Kids have sex, Miri. You can’t stop them. You can just teach them about protection and the consequences of the action. Educate him.”
Miri scoffed. “Easier said than done. I might talk to his coach. I don’t know. Cutter needs a male role model.”
“I’ll have Brendan talk to him. They seem to get along.”
There was a knock on the door, and Croc shoes squeaked on the linoleum. When the curtain moved and the doctor came into view, I was surprised to see the same one from the elevator ride.
“Hello, Miriam,” he said as he looked at her chart and then to her, and finally to me. “I’m Dr. Niall Frederick.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Miri said as they shook hands.
“I’m Antonia,” I said and shook his hand as well.
“Nice to see you again,” he said.
“Again?” Miri asked.
I motioned toward him. “Elevator ride, yesterday.”
Miri mouthed “Oh,” and then her eyes widened. Let’s just say I was happy I didn’t embarrass myself and ask him the inappropriate questions.
“Is now a good time to talk?” he asked, looking at Miri. She nodded, and he pulled a chair from the next space over. He sat, set his file on the table near Miri’s bed, and crossed his legs. I fully expected him to clasp his hands, but he didn’t.
“We have your results back, Miriam.”
Right away, I knew this wasn’t going to be good. I stood and took her hand in mine.
“Is it cancer?” Miri asked.
Dr. Frederick nodded. “The findings show cancer in multiple parts of your body, including the pancreas, breast, and colon.” He leaned forward slightly. “Based on the imaging and blood work, the cancer originated in your pancreas and has metastasized to your liver, lungs, and breast tissue. Pancreatic cancer is particularly aggressive and often goes undetected until it’s advanced, which explains why you didn’t feel significantly ill until recently.”
Miri’s hand turned cold in mine as he spoke.
“It started in the pancreas?” Miri’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in the sterile hospital room.
He cleared his throat and then continued. “Yes. Unfortunately, pancreatic cancer is known as the ‘silent killer’ because symptoms don’t typically appear until the disease has progressed. The fatigue and discomfort you’ve been experiencing are common early indicators, but they’re easily mistaken for stress or normal life pressures. The blood test confirmed the findings from the MRI. Certain cancers release specific proteins into your bloodstream. Between what we saw on your images and the elevated levels, this condition is what we call metastatic cancer.”
“Oh God,” I mumbled at the sound of his words. Tears fell instantly. There was no way to stop or combat them. This wasn’t something Miri could’ve prevented with a monthly self-exam or a yearly mammogram. It wasn’t like she could’ve stood in the mirror and examined the organ for bumps, lesions, or any abnormalities.
“With the cancer spreading to several organs, it becomes more complex to treat because one site might react positively to the treatment, while another may not respond at all. This doesn’t mean we don’t have options, though. We will find a way to treat you. At this stage, our primary goal is to manage the cancer and slow its progression while mitigating any symptoms that arise.”
“Is there a cure?” Miri asked quietly.
“It’s not likely we’ll be able to cure the cancers, but we can focus on treatments that might help extend your life.”
“What about a second opinion?” I asked. “I live in Boston. The hospitals are better there. More equipped. I’ll take her there.”
Dr. Frederick nodded. “Please do,” he said. “I’ll tell the charge nurse to send Miriam’s file there.”
“How long?” Miri asked.
“With the right treatment—”
“How long?” Miri asked again, this time more forcefully. “Am I going to see my son graduate? My daughter? Will I see my son get married? My daughter become a mother?”
Dr. Frederick took a measured breath. His eyes were soft, kind . . . practiced. I could tell he’d given more bad news in his years as a doctor than he had good. My heart sank, even further than before. I held Miri’s hand, willing her to feel the comfort I couldn’t put into words.
“With aggressive chemotherapy, we’re typically looking at six to twelve months. Without treatment, significantly less. I want to be clear, we’re not fighting to cure this cancer, Miriam. We’re fighting to give you as much quality time as possible with your children.”
Miri’s face crumpled. “So I won’t see Cutter graduate. Nova’s only seven.”
“The treatment we’re recommending is aggressive precisely because every day, every week, and every month matters. Some patients exceed our expectations, but I believe in being honest about what we’re facing.”
The door clicked closed softly, and Miri let out the most gut-wrenching sob I’d ever heard from anyone. I held her as tightly as possible while rubbing her back.
“We’ll get a second opinion,” I told her, trying to give her a small semblance of hope. “Boston has the best doctors. We’ll pack up the kids and leave right away.”
Miri said nothing. She held on to my arms, clutching them to bring me closer, and sobbed. Her tears matched my fear and heartbreak. There wasn’t a time in my life when she hadn’t existed, and I wasn’t sure I could exist in a world where she didn’t.
Chapter 6
Antonia
Nothing about what I’d heard, about what the doctor had said, made any sense to me. Miri was sick, and in my heart of hearts, I knew there would be no magical cure for what she had. My brain said otherwise while also screaming, Why and how?
Why was this happening to her? She was the kindest, nicest, loveliest person I knew. She didn’t wish harm on anyone, even if they’d scorned her. Miri never said a bad thing about those types to anyone, except to me, but I was her best friend, her confidant. I’d never betray her, and people should be allowed to vent their frustrations.
How was this happening to her? How had her system gotten so horribly bad, without her or her doctors noticing?
Cutter’s voice rang out in my mind . . . The last couple of months, she hasn’t been feeling well. She had a cough and said it was nothing, but she seemed very tired.
Was it only the last couple of months that she hadn’t been feeling well? Did she not prioritize her health? Of course she had. Miri would never do anything to put her babies in harm’s way or to not be with them. They were her life.
