No Matter What

Help Me

The rest of the fall semester was going by pretty quickly. Even though Connor was doing well, things were overwhelming with all his doctors' appointments. I went with him to as many of his physical therapy sessions as I could, and he helped me stay calm while filling out college applications. Those things were long and difficult, and I had no idea who was going to take me, especially since I needed special accommodations.

The two of us kept hanging out and going on dates like we used to. Things started to become our new normal. Like the wheels Connor sat on, everything kept going in a circular motion: forward and steadfast.

Right before Thanksgiving, we each made our decisions when it came to colleges. Dorms, parties, and being away from home were really overwhelming. Not to mention super expensive. Connor and I, for financial reasons, would be going to state schools. He had his heart set on something more fancy, but of course, ended up losing his football scholarship.

I was going to commute to OFCC, our local community college, and Connor was going up north to Adirondack University, which was near the little town of Allister Lake. When we went to visit it, Annie came with us, and now she was dead-set on getting married up there. I loved Allister Lake. It was quiet. Minimal light pollution.

But besides that, I was just happy our schools were only a little under two hours away from each other, so we'd be able to see each other some weekends, instead of just on breaks when we were home. We wanted to see each other at least once or twice a month. Once I got my car, hopefully that would be doable.

Then came the anniversary of my mom's passing. Somehow the second anniversary felt worse than the first one. Maybe it was because it was hard to think my mom was gone for this long. Two years seemed like a long time. I was going to graduate soon, and the last time I saw her, I just started my second year of high school.

As usual, Connor went with me, my dad, and Annie to the Joan of Arc cemetery. Annie was usually very stoic and serious, especially while she was at work. But today, she was different, barely even making an effort to wipe away her tears. She wasn't even in her thirties and she'd lost both of her biological parents. Yes, my dad adopted her, but it still had to be hard. I was so grateful to still have him.

We said a few words and left a few bouquets of chrysanthemums, her favorite flower. After that, we kept the tradition of going out for pizza. It wasn't just her favorite. It was also mine. The little pepperoni doesn't fall far from the rest of the pie. Except for Annie. She didn't like pizza. I have no idea what's wrong with her.

Annie went home after that, then my dad dropped off Connor before bringing us home. I found some comfy pants and got a snack ready. Then, I did my homework and listened to a podcast until the sky was all lit up with stars again.

I grabbed a sweatshirt and threw it over my head. I followed my same protocol: open the window, fold up the telescope, place it outside, and get comfy on the flat portion of the roof outside my bedroom. I was looking at the full moon for a while, examining the nooks and crannies of all those big and little craters.

I imagined myself hopping around up there in all the moon dust with a big, bulky space suit. Another moon mission probably wasn't going to happen in my lifetime, and I knew that. I understood it. But that wasn't going to stop me from dreaming about it. I thought about how Connor always told me I was going to Mars, but right now there weren't any plans for any of the Mars missions to return home. I know I wasn't anyone special, but I felt like I had too much to do here on earth to not come home ever again.

"Ugh," I said, sitting back down. "This isn't the same without you, Connor."

I kept looking up at the stars, trying to find my happy place in all the chaos I was feeling lately. I hadn't been eating or sleeping right. Things were off. I had to stop wearing jeans because I could only fit into leggings. I chocked it up to my anxiety or just pigging out because of the anxiety I felt about the anniversary of my mom's passing, but I knew that couldn't be it. There was something bigger going on here.

I brought the telescope inside, shut the window, sat on my bed, and looked at the clock. I should be going to bed, I thought. But I know I'm way too anxious to fall asleep. I took out my phone and called Connor.

"Hey. You doing okay?" he asked after picking up on the first ring.

"I'm a ball of stress, but not because of the whole my-mom-died-on-this-day kind of thing."

"I'm sure that's at least part of it," he said. I sighed, looking up at the glow in the dark stars that were stuck up on my ceiling. "Just talk to me. I don't feel like working on my essay, anyway."

"I'm going to the doctor. I feel like I should go."

"To the gynecologist?" he said, super nonchalantly. "Does my hypochondriac think something is wrong again? Babe, you're okay. I promise. I feel like we go through this every month."

"Connor, it's serious this time!" I said, my breath fogging up the screen of my phone. "I think I really could have ovarian cancer like my mom did."

"Ayla, you always think you are going to get ovarian cancer like your mom."

"It's different this time."

He sighed. "That's what you said last time, and the time before that. I really think you should see someone about this. I'm being serious. I'm worried about you."

"Look, you know I have the gene that makes me more likely to get it," I said. "I just wanted to know if you'd go there with me."

"Yes, Ayla! Of course I'll go with you," he said without hesitation. "I came with you the past four times, remember?"

"This will be the last time. I swear."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Connor was quiet for a minute. "I guess one more doctor's appointment couldn't hurt. Just let me know when we're going."

"You're the best. I love you so much," I said.

"I love you too. Bye."

"Bye, Connor," I said, hanging up.

I looked over at the picture on my dresser. It was an old photo of Mom and I at the amusement park. It had been too long since I talked to her. Too long since she'd given me the advice that kept me going on a daily basis. But before she went, she made sure to tell me a few important things:

Number One: "You're beautiful, no matter what anyone says or thinks."

Number Two: "Strong women are the best kind of women, and that's what I want you to be."

And Number Three: "I was feeling bloated and missing my period for a while before I finally called the doctors and they told me I was sick. If either of these happen to you, promise me that you won't wait like I did. That you'll call the doctor if you have a hunch that anything is wrong."

"I promise, Mom," I said to the picture of us.

I took a deep breath and put my phone down on my star-patterned comforter.

"I'm not crazy. Something's not right. I know it," I said. Again, to no one.

I picked the phone back up and dialed the number of my OBGYN with my shaky fingers. I listened to the long menu of instructions before I could finally leave a message. I listened for the beep and tried to string all my anxious thoughts together into sentences.

"Uh...hi, it's Ayla Green again, birthdate of two-fifteen-oh-five. I'm having some different symptoms, like I'm uh...bloated and I'm not getting my period and I really, really think I have ovarian cancer this time. I just need to get checked out. Please call me back as soon as possible. Thanks."