A Fight to Remember

Option B

A/N: Hey Guys! Thanks for sticking with this! Thanks everyone for your comments! They are what makes this possible! 

Quick clarification on last chapter: Benny is five years old, and Megan's son. Megan is Sarah's estranged daughter. Megan has never met Michael Robertson.

Watch this next POV shift. Onward!

Qualicum, BC January 2031

Sarah

I swallowed hard as I stood in front of my house. I know who's inside. I know what he's expecting. But I don't know if I can. I don't know if I can lose him again. What do you do when you've started to believe the lie of a life you created? And what do you do when that lie is staring you in the face begging for answers, for truth?

I sucked in air to settle my stomach, not sure if it's my own anxiety or if it's the sickness inside of me. Cancer. For the last year, I'd been in and out of the hospital for treatments and chemo, but my prognosis isn't good. I'm dying.

Cancer was what got me into this mess. Cancer and a friggin' tsunami.

Two and a half years ago:

June 14 2028. Tofino. (two days before the tsunami)

"Hey, you're home," I said as I entered the house. My husband of ten years, Mike, laid in his recliner, idly watching a baseball game.

"Hey." Mike shifted in his chair, "We met our quota early."

"Umm, well I didn't know you'd be home so early... I don't have any dinner ready for you. Well, are you hungry, hon? I can make something for you." I offered.

"Don't bother, I'm going out with John and the guys later."

"Oh... you know, I was thinking, we could get the hot tub going? Have some wine? Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow?"

Mike looked at me blankly and shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

"Is something wrong? Do you have a problem with me?"

"Nothing..." He sighed. "I'm just tired."

You're always tired, I thought to myself. You leave, you come back, flop on the couch have a beer and leave again. Just like that. And just like that I'm alone.

I struggled to say something. I wanted to confront him. Something is wrong. These last two years he's been acting like this, and I chalked it up to him just getting old. The fishing industry is hard. While we still have significant savings, it's because we saved, not because we make a crapload of money. My social work job takes care of most of the bills, and Mike's job is our retirement.

But I shut my mouth and go to our room instead. I have a small office in our room, and unpacked my files there. I noticed a flashing light on my answering machine. I pressed the button and listened. "Hello, this is Dr. Sands. We have your lab results. We need you to call us back immediately to discuss your diagnosis and treatment plan. You need to get in here right away."

That night I stared at the ceiling as Mike lay beside me snoring away. It was back. The cancer was back. I had to go down to Victoria and talk about chemo and radiation. I hadn't told Mike yet. Was he in this? Would he be there for me again? Could he? I doubted it.

The next morning, I got up early. I grabbed eggs, flour, baking powder, milk, and started the routine that I'd done every morning for the last ten years. Buddy woke with me and padded to the kitchen behind me. He lay on the mat in front of the stove, his eyes watching me with sympathy. "Don't give me that look," I said to the dog. Buddy whined in response. I smiled slightly and shook my head.