One Last Fight Page 13

  Dad doesn’t say anything but sits there looking at my mother. He looks sad. Why didn’t I notice this sooner? Have I been that preoccupied that I didn’t see the sadness in my father’s eyes? I have been. With Madison, Robert’s training center, and the holidays, Madison, and Gracie, I haven’t noticed that something is wrong with my parents. Divorce? My dad has been spending a lot of time at the training center with Robert.

  “No, no champagne. I want to know what’s wrong.”

  Robert holds my hand under the table and squeezes. He knows something is seriously wrong, too.

  “Leah, relax. We do have some news to share with you and with Robert,” Dad says.

  Mom says, “We spent the last few days trying to find the best way to tell you.”

  My heart races and my palms sweat. I attempt to control the steady bounce of my leg beneath the table. I have a feeling of doom. Is that even possible? Can you feel tragedy before it hits you in the face with the impact and speed of a freight train?

  “Please, just tell us,” Robert prompts.

  The waiter begins to walk towards the table, but my dad subtly raises his hand to stop him. He nods and retreats to his corner.

  “I went to the doctor last week and again on Tuesday,” my mom begins to say.

  “I know, I thought it was just for your annual checkup.” I look at Mom and force myself to maintain eye contact. I want to look away, I want to close my eyes and pray this isn’t happening.

  “It was time for my annual checkup, but I found a lump in my right breast.”

  “Oh, Mom.”

  “It’s all right, Leah.” Mom tries to smile, but the sadness is in her eyes.

  Robert squeezes my hand and I ask, “Can it be just a fluid-filled cyst?”

  “We were hoping it was just that. A benign growth or a cyst. But I had a biopsy done last Tuesday,” Mom says with a quivering lip.

  Dad says as he holds my mother’s hand. “It turned out to be a malignant tumor.”

  “What does that mean?” I know what that means. Why do I feel the need to hear it? She has cancer, Leah. Robert squeezes my hand again. My eyes fill up with tears.

  “Leah, your mother has stage two breast cancer.”

  I close my eyes and cry. I don’t scream or yell, I cry silent, sad, heart-breaking tears. The noise in the over-crowded restaurant has been muted.

  Mom stands and walks over and hugs me. We both cry.

  “What is the prognosis?” Robert asks.

  Dad says, “With treatment, it’s good. Stage four is the final and worst stage. Sue is in the early stage of two.”

  “What is the treatment?” I ask.

  Mom says, “A mastectomy and then chemo and maybe radiation. We wanted to talk to you and Robert about this before we scheduled the surgery.”

  “You’re having the surgery, right?” I ask.

  Mom sits down and Dad holds her hand. “I wanted to see what you both thought first.”

  Robert sits back in his chair and takes a drink of his ice water. I know it is his way to not say anything. This is between me and my family. “Yes. If it can save your life, you need to get it scheduled right away. These things,” I say motioning to each of my breasts, “are only good for one thing, anyway.” I look at Gracie and she smiles. “Once she turns two, they’re not good for anything.”

  I think I’m right when I say that breasts have just one use. Breasts being eye candy is more about aesthetics than utility.

  Robert leans forward and says, “Leah’s right, Sue. You need to get that scheduled right away. The sooner, the better.”

  “I know, but with Christmas next week…,” Sue begins to say.

  “No, Mom. Now. You need to get that done now. Dad, tell her.”

  “Sue, you know they’re right.”

  “Call Monday. Mom, you have to promise me. You’ll call on Monday.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll call first thing Monday.”

  “And you’ll take the first available surgery time.” It’s not a question but more like a demand.

  “First available, I promise.”

  Dad signals for the server to come over. Mom looks at Gracie and talks baby talk to her. Gracie is sitting between me and Mom. Once we order our dinner, Robert picks up Gracie and hands her to Mom. I wonder if the lump is painful. She had a biopsy and that would be painful. Mom looks better. The color is back in her face and she is enjoying her time with her family.

  I try to eat, but can’t. I just try to enjoy my time with my family, too. My mind races with Why me? What did I do wrong? I don’t deserve this. There are no answers, but a better question is Why anyone? And then I remember it’s not just me. It’s Mom, and Dad, Gracie, and Robert. It’s all of us going through this. But mostly it’s Mom. It’s her life and her body. Why her?

  “How do you feel?” I blurt out. “Does it hurt?” I watch her. I wasn’t going to ask, but I have to know.

  “If I said I wasn’t worried, I would be lying. Not much pain from the biopsy. I’m just worried about what will happen. It’s Christmas and we have two new grandbabies. I want to be around to see them grow up, get married, and have their own children,” she cries.

  The thought of my mom not being around for that is too much. “That’s understandable, Sue,” Robert says. “We need to get your treatment started as soon as possible to make sure you’re around for all of those things.”

  He always knows the right thing to do and say.

  “He’s right,” Dad says.

  We finish our dinner and no one drank the champagne. It was not a celebration. Later that night, Robert and I lie in bed talking about Mom, her surgery, and her chemo treatments. I feel like I’m living a nightmare.

  “I buried Jamie; it’s not fair I may have to bury my mom, too.”

  “Don’t do that, Leah. Don’t think like that. The most important thing we can offer your mom is positivity and support.”

  “I know. But cancer? Robert, she has cancer. Do you know how many people die of cancer every year… every day?”

  “Do you know how many people fight it and survive it? They go into remission and live a lifetime without it ever returning.”

  I think about what he said. He’s right. Many people are survivors of cancer. I should be more optimistic. The thought of her losing her breast from the surgery and possibly temporarily losing her hair from chemo is a small price to pay to have her around for many years to come.

  Robert

  On Monday, Sue called and said they have her surgery scheduled for December 26th, the day after Christmas. Leah didn’t cry, she held it together. She even arranged for a Christmas shopping trip for tonight with us and our parents. Since I’m not doing anything, according to Leah, she left me in charge of finding a babysitter.

  Dove and Bethany agreed to close up the shop, so we could leave to get ready.

  “I’m surprised you’re in the mood to shop,” I say, honestly.

  “I want to make the most of the time we have before Mom’s treatment and surgery. I researched it and I hear the side effects of chemo include fatigue, along with some others. She loves Christmas, and I want to make sure she’s able to enjoy it.”

  I smile. “Good, I’m glad to see you’re taking this approach. It’ll be good for her.”

  “Thank you. It’s not easy, but I have to do my best to keep a positive attitude for me and for her.”

  “My girl, the fighter.” I walk over and kiss her.

  “You give me too much credit.”

  “No, I don’t. You don’t give yourself enough.”

  “We should go. Who did you get to babysit Gracie?”

  I smile and say, “Mason and Angel.”

  “You did well. Is that why you’re smiling?”

  “It is. I knew you would be pleased.”

  “I am, thank you.”

  We pull up at Mason and Angel’s house, and they greet us on the porch. They are both wearing sweatpants and sweatshirts. Mason is almost always in scrubs and An
gel is almost always in heels when she is away from home or working. Their twins, Alex and Ana, come running out of the house, chasing each other. I soon understand their dress code for home.

  Mason walks off of the porch and helps Leah with the diaper bag.

  “Thank you for agreeing to watch her,” Leah says.

  “We’re more than happy to,” Angel says. “It’s been awhile since we had a baby in the house.”

  “Robert told us about your mom. We’re very sorry.” Mason looks me in my eyes, and I can see his sincerity.

  “Thank you, I think we are still in a bit of shock.”

  “I’m sure you are. If it helps, Moffitt Cancer Center is one of the best places for her to be. She’ll get top-notch care there.” He holds the door open and we all walk into their beautiful home.

  “That does help. Her prognosis is good with early detection and treatment.”

  “I’m sure it’ll all work out,” Angel says. I watch as she carefully removes Gracie from her carrier. “Oh my, look at that hair! She looks like a…”

  “Punk rock star?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she laughs. “Look at how beautiful she is.”

  “Thank you, we think so.”

  We explain that the bottles, diapers, and wipes are in the diaper bag, along with an extra change of clothing. Leah explains it’s breastmilk in the bottles so there should be very little spit-up from Gracie.

  “We’ll be back in about three hours,” I say.

  “Or four,” Leah adds.

  “How long can you spend at the mall?” I ask. Mason looks at me and I look at him. It dawns on me that we may be there awhile. While men can usually run in and out of a store, women aren’t like that. Leah will have the need to look at everything in every store.

  We meet everyone at the UTC Mall on University Parkway in Sarasota. Sue and Tim have worry lines that stretch across their foreheads. Sue’s flawless skin has been replaced with dark circles under her puffy eyes. I know the stress and the uncertainty of her future are taking its toll on her and Tim.

  Leah and I have vowed to make today a happy occasion. No mentioning her upcoming surgery, or chemo, or cancer. Just a typical happy day of Christmas shopping with our family. We begin with dinner at the Cheesecake Factory with Amanda as our server. Tim order champagne for everyone.

  “Did you get us their Christmas list?” Mom asks.

  Leah pulls two sheets of paper out of her purse. “According to Chelsea, this is everything left to get.” She hands a sheet of paper to my mom, and she and Sue look over them.

  They begin to plan a shopping strategy. Tim, Dad, and I all laugh.

  We talk and eat before hitting the shops. The girls go on one end of the mall while we guys head in the other direction. Christmas is next week and I soon realize I’m not the only procrastinator in the family. We all are.

  The first store we go to is a jewelry store. You can never go wrong with diamonds, gold, or anything that sparkles, as long as you save the glitter for young girls, not full-grown women. Tim goes straight to the right side of the shop. It’s almost like he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

  I go and look at earrings for Leah while Dad goes to the part of the store where the necklaces are. I decide on earrings for Madison and Leah. Dad buys a necklace for Mom, and Tim is just finishing up his purchase on the other side of the store. He tucks a small box into his coat pocket before we leave. Men aren’t like women; we don’t share or compare the gifts we buy, we know what we want and we keep it to ourselves.

  We leave and walk through the mall. We enter a few stores, and I buy a few things I think Madison, Caden, and Gracie will like. I also buy a few things for Leah from Victoria’s Secret and some candles from Body Works. Actually, the things I bought for Leah from Victoria’s Secret are a sexy-time gift for me.

  Dad and Tim also purchase a few things. We mostly just walk around and window shop. We decide to stop at Starbucks for a coffee to pass the time away.

  “How are you holding up?” Dad asks Tim.

  Tim shakes his head. “I’m trying to be optimistic, but it’s hard. You hear the word ‘cancer’ and you automatically think the worst.”

  “Her prognosis is good, right?” I ask.

  “It is. There’s still that fear that maybe it has metastasized to other organs or something will happen between now and her surgery date.”

  “How is Sue holding up?” Dad asks.

  “You know Sue. She’ll keep it together for her family.”

  “She’s amazing like that,” Dad says.

  Tim smiles, “Yeah, she is. She’s having a mastectomy in a week and she’s determined to make this Christmas memorable. It’s been three years since we had Christmas with Jamie and now we have two grandchildren and Caden to spend Christmas with. Her biggest fear is she won’t be here to see her grandbabies grow up.”

  “She has a lot to fight for,” I say.

  “Yes, Robert, she does.”

  We meet up with the girls and have dessert. The girls are all smiling and laughing; it’s a good sound.

  “When do you get Madison next?” Mom asks.

  “Tomorrow, they offered for us to get Madison, but we also wanted to get Caden.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” Sue says.

  “He’s a great boy and he isn’t any problem.” I finish off my coffee and ask, “Do we know when we are going to celebrate Christmas?”

  Leah says, “No, we haven’t talked about that yet.”

  “I think we need to find out so we can all plan on getting together.”

  “Do you think they’ll let you have both kids for Christmas Eve or on Christmas Day?” Tim asks.

  Leah looks at me and I say, “I hope so. We never talked about that.”

  We decide we’ll talk to Drake and Chelsea about getting the kids and then we’ll get back with our parents about when. We usually get together on Christmas Eve, but now we’ll do it whenever we have Madison.

  I say, “We would like to be home this year.”

  “Of course,” Tim says. “Gracie will need to be home, and you’ll need to start your holiday traditions now with her and Madison.”

  “And Caden, too, if we start getting him regularly,” Leah says.

  The next morning before my run I call Drake’s cellphone. I know he’s an early riser and with Madison’s abduction still fresh in his mind, I imagine he doesn’t sleep well at all anymore. I briefly explain to him that we are having some health problems in our family and we would like to get Madison on Christmas Eve or on Christmas Day. I also tell him we have some gifts for Caden and if he wanted to come over, we would be more than happy to have him.

  “Chelsea and I were going to discuss this with you tonight when we brought Madison over. Other than spending time at home with Dad, we don’t have any other plans. Chelsea’s parents won’t be here until the 27th. The kids do believe in Santa Claus, so if you keep them overnight on Christmas Eve just make sure someone plays Santa before you go to sleep.”

  He laughs and it makes me laugh, too.

  “We could keep the kids overnight?”

  “If you want them both. I would like to have them home sometime before dinner. Maybe 2:00 or 3:00 p.m.? Sound fair? Santa will still be coming to our house, too.”

  “Yes, that sounds more than fair.” I was expecting them a few hours on either day, not both days.

  “We’ll talk about it tonight. You’re still getting Madison, right?”

  “Sure are, and Caden if he wants to come.”

  “I’m sure he does. I hate for him to intrude on your time with Madison.”

  “It’s no problem, he actually helps. He’s quite the talker,” I say, laughing.

  “Who you telling, that boy never shuts up. I’ll see you, tonight.”

  “Later.” I disconnect the call.

  Leah will be happy with the news about getting the kids for both days. I finish my run and head home.

  Leah

  This past week, I have be
en spending my days and evenings with Mom. Bethany and Dove have been picking up my slack at work. Mom and I have been finishing up our Christmas shopping and planning for the Christmas Eve party. We are both excited and happy to have children in the house this year. Mom and I talk privately about her surgery and her fears, but we don’t consume our days with sadness and despair. We hope and pray for the best possible outcome.

  The house is clean, candles are burning, the gas fireplace is on, and the tree is lit. The song “Let It Snow” is softly playing on the surround sound although we live in Florida where snow has to be trucked in so that kids can learn what it is. Mom and Margie called to let us know they are on their way. It’s been a long time since we had a Christmas Eve party for our family. I decided on a flowy red dress to match Gracie’s red and white dress, and green ribbon bow. Robert chose a black suit and red tie. The turkey is in the oven and the dessert table is covered with sweets and treats, thanks to Jo.

  A knock sounds at the door. Josephine and Carl are standing there, holding covered dishes and wrapped gifts.

  “Merry Christmas, and I told you not to bring anything. You already contributed sweets.” I hold the door open wide for them. They each kiss me as they walk past me into the house.

  Robert greets them and I see more lights coming down the road. Gus and Dove come next, then Bethany and Kyle. They all have food and gifts with them. We greet them warmly, and Robert places their gifts under the tree while I take the food and place it on the table.

  I look at the clock and get a rush of panic that runs through my body. Madison and Caden aren’t here yet. They are only a few minutes late so I shouldn’t panic. Molly, Adam, and Raelynn come right before our parents get here. The house is filling up and it looks like the Christmases that I remember. The last few years following Jamie’s death, our house would remain dark: no tree, no music, and no food. We had no reason to celebrate. Robert and I mourned Jamie in bitter silence.

  I watch as Gracie is being passed around the room — she is all smiles and squeals. The tree is lit with clear lights and beneath the tree are gifts to and from our friends and family. Another car pulls up and I pray it’s Madison and Caden.