Green Line

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Then

Cancer.  Terminal.

That’s their diagnosis.

A tear rolls out of my eye and I force myself to look at my mom.  My hero.  My warrior.  My advocate in this hellish life.  She reaches her hand over and steals mine, squeezing it the moment our flesh connects.

This woman, through her touch, pours her strength into me.  I bite on my lip to keep the sob from escaping and swipe the wetness from my cheek with my free hand.

“How long?” I ask the doctor in a wobbly voice.

The woman with white hair peers over her glasses and purses her lips at me before answering.  “Not long.  A couple of months at most.”

This time, the sob does escape.

Mom releases my hand so she can pull me into one of her warm hugs.  I melt in her arms and remember times when it was the three of us.  When Dad loved us.  Life was perfect back then. Before depression.  Before cancer.  

I won’t let him weave his way into our moment though.  This moment is about the two of us.  The two left in the Davis family.

Soon there will be just one.

“What are the options?” I ask, my voice thick with emotion as I turn in Mom’s arms to face the doctor. 

She smiles sympathetically at me and I want to slap the expression right from her face.  “Well, the best option is to make life comfortable in the end.  Of course there are treatments but in a case such as this, the treatments are futile.  Sweetie, the cancer has spread everywhere, including the brain.”

I close my eyes and swallow down the unfairness of it all.  Life is really full of fucking lemons. 

“Honey, it’s going to be okay,” Mom murmurs against my hair and presses a kiss against my head.

It is not going to be okay.

Cancer.

Terminal fucking cancer.

“Mom, stop.  We’ll do the treatments.  We’ll fix this,” I sob as I open my eyes.

The doctor is no longer smiling and has dropped her gaze to the thick file in her hands.  I wait impatiently for her to say something.  Anything.  

“Miss Davis, it won’t work.  I’ve been doing this for way too long.  We can spend our time and energy in an attempt to battle the cancer but, in turn, you’ll lose out on precious time together.  Trust me when I tell you that it is in your best interest to not fight the battle that will most certainly be lost.  You two need to enjoy your last moments with each other.”

I feel sick.

This cannot be happening.

Just last week, things seemed right.  Perfect even.  Mom wasn’t having to work as hard at the diner because I’d picked up a full time job at the cinema.  I may smell like popcorn every single night when I come home, but it’s worth it being able to contribute.  For her not to have to kill herself working double shifts every day of the week, the buttery smell in my hair was worth it.

“Doctor Fulton, it’s okay.  Natalie and I will get through this,” Mom assures her, “She is upset now but I know my daughter.  She’s brave.”

But I’m not brave.

I’m weak.

And scared.

The doctor opens up the file and pulls a sheet of paper from it.  “There’s a support group.  For families like yours as they prepare a cancer patient for the end.  You’ll also find several hospice companies that can assist you both during this time.  I’m so sorry.”

Tears well in my eyes again.  

I’m so sorry.

What a cliché thing to say.

Sitting up, I pull away from my mother and glare at the doctor.  “We’ll get a second opinion.  Surely there are doctors out there actually willing to try and treat their patients.  You’re just giving up.  What’s wrong with you?” I hiss.

She has the audacity to appear to be surprised by my sudden outburst.  Did she really think I’d take this diagnosis and promise of death so easily?

“Sweetie—” she begins but I swat the file from her hands, cutting her off.

“Don’t call me that again,” I snarl.

Mom hugs me tightly from behind and rests her cheek on my back.  She’s already given up on our family.  Much like Dad did all those years ago.

“Mom, stop,” I sniffle as I watch the doctor scramble to gather her papers from the floor.

My mother squeezes me and I relax in her arms.  “Natalie, I promise.  Cancer may steal our life away together but we’ll always be a family.  We’ll always be together in our hearts.  I promise you that, baby.”

The tears that fall from my eyes turn the idiot doctor into a blur.

“I’ll miss you so much, baby,” she murmurs.

I gulp down my hysterics as I let the gravity of what’s happening to us sink in.  Our family won’t exist anymore.  It will be the end for the both of us.  

“Mom, I’ll miss you too.”

The doctor sets the file on the sofa beside me and exits the room silently.  It’s quite possibly the smartest thing she’s done since the moment she opened her mouth and told us of the wicked cancer that will steal a life in a matter of months.  

A couple of months and no more.

“Nobody will love me once you’re gone.”

My mother chuckles as if my words are the silliest damn thing to ever come out of my mouth.  “Oh, baby, you’re easy to love.  The question is, who will you let love you when I’m gone?”

I know the answer.

Nobody.

Love only ends in insufferable heartache. 

Love is for the birds.