Girls Don't Cry | The Outsiders

Six

"Johanna, I want to see her."

"She's asleep. She's been at work all day."

"I might not get to see her again. You know this. It took all I had just to get way the hell out here."

I heard distinctive sigh, followed by feet shuffling down the hall and someone opening the door. I rolled over to see what my mom wanted, trying my hardest not to wake Claire.

"What is it mama?" I asked.

"There's someone here to see you."

"Who?"

She jerked her head back toward the living room. I quietly for out of bed. I tugged a flannel on over my top and walked out in my socked feet to see who was here at the ass crack of dawn.

"Whadya need?" I asked impatiently, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Hi, Candice."

I stopped short and looked up at the man standing in the middle of my living room. I stared him up and down, just studying. He saw this and I guessed it made him nervous because he began rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm Arnie Marshall. Your dad."

"No," I said. "No way."

"Yes, Candice," Mama said, making me whip my head around to look at her. She'd been crying.

"Mama, what's wrong?" I asked. "What's going on?"

"I think you need to sit down."

"I'm fine."

"Sit down, Candice." Her voice was firm and scary. I sat down in the recliner. Johanna and Arnie sat down on the couch. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

"You're gonna have to make a choice," said Arnie.

"I don't think she really has one," Mama said, clenching her fists tightly.

"What?" I demanded.

"You can come with me," said Arnie. "Or you can stay here."

"I'm gonna stay--"

"Hold on a minute --"

"No, you hold on a minute. You come into my house at five in the Goddamn morning and say I should leave after claiming to be my dad?"

"He is, Candice. He is your dad."

"Alright, but why am I being told I should leave? I'm fine."

"Lower your voice please. Don't wake the little kids. We'll never get through this."

"Get through what, exactly?"

"Candice..." Johanna heaved another sigh. "Candice, I'm sick."

"Sick? What kinda sick? You have the flu?"

"God, no," she shook her head and, just as, her shoulders began shaking violently as well.

"What is it?" I said gently, kneeling in front of her.

"I have...I have cancer, baby."

"What?" I exclaimed, throwing myself backward dramatically. I felt like we were in a soap opera. "This is some kind of sick joke, right? Ha ha, very funny--"

"It's not a joke."

"Alright so when did you find this out? Because I sure as hell never heard about you going to the doctor's."

"About a month ago," she said. "Right before you dropped out. I was having pains and, you know my arthritis, except it wasn't--" she got choked up on her words. Her breaking down really confirmed it was true. I moved back to her. I held her tight, letting her cry. "Terminal," was all she said. It was so quiet, I didn't hear it at first. When it registered in my brain what terminal meant, I wished I hadn't heard er.