Should Have Not Asked - New Adult Romance (Wattys 2014)

Chapter 10 - Putting Off The Fire

I withdraw everything I have from the bank and pay it all for Dad's pending tests and treatments. Well, not really everything as I leave a few for our daily expenses.

It's not enough but at least, with that little money, Dad will receive the necessary treatments before we get the loan.

Cancer of the kidney.

First, he has renal failure, now he has a mass in his left kidney.

First, it's just his kidneys' inability to filter waste that caused complications. Now, there's a growing malignant mass that will eat him starting from where it grows.

There are lots of treatments suggested, and all of them are scary and risky. They lower down a person's immune system, hence the risk of infection, making it more dangerous for people who are experiencing other chronic diseases. Dad will start to lose hair and so much weight until people barely recognize him. He will never be the same again. Things will never be the same again.

"Is it your day off today, Angel?" Mom asks as she hands me a cup of coffee. Dad is sent to the radiography department for some tests, and Mom and I are left in the room. She knows what's happening, her face says so. There are wrinkles all over, tear marks at both corners of her eyes, and dark, tired eyes. She's just hiding it from Dad and me.

"It's Saturday," I answer while warming my hands with the cup. Saturdays are always my free days. Mom should have known. Maybe too much stress has made her a little absentminded.

She sat on the couch right beside me and reaches for my hand. Her grasp is tight and warm, like telling me a message that is just right to be told this way.

I know it. She's telling me to be strong.

Her grasp tightens when I start to burst into crying. Mom buries me into her affectionate embrace.

"Remember when you said that everything will be alright?" She pats my back. "Remember when you never show us you're crying because you don't want us to worry? Remember when you were a little girl and other kids are laughing at you because all you had for recess were cookies and ham and cheese?"

I remember those times.

Those were the Angel Mohrs who liked to appear strong, my past self who lied just to escape the sad truth.

Angel Mohr is not strong.

She's just a good liar.

This is the real her—the real me.

"Angel, please don't do this to yourself. Don't be too selfless."

"What are you saying, Mom?" I cry. "What's wrong with thinking about you and Dad? Do you think I'll just let you carry all these?"

"I'm not saying that you stop. I just want you to help yourself and not think about us for a day or two. Think about yourself." Her eyes have the sincerity and drive that I have been looking for in the past few days. This is the formidable Sarah Mohr! This is who she is, the one who has been missing for quite a time. I'm glad she's back because I can no longer act strong and unaffected.

I cry and cry, and Mom listens and tries to calm me.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Angel. Leave a little space for fun and joy."

"How am I going to do that, Mom? It won't cure cancer." I justify, shaking my head. "It won't make Dad live long."

"Your father will be alright," Mom tells me confidently despite the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. She's not faking this strength. I can feel that she's doing this because, in this time of crisis, it's the only thing that will keep us afloat. Mom is naturally a strong woman. I've seen her battle through hard times. This is the worst, but I know that with her sane and optimistic things will be less painful.