Solace In The Silence ✓✓

chapter 21

He stared out the window of the restaurant, his face contorting in sorrow. He was watching the clusters of people that trudged along the sidewalk, illuminated beneath the soft glow of the streetlights.
I knew Jake wasn't the crying type, but the man looked seriously sad, lost. And I couldn't blame him. I was pretty sure my expression said the same.

No wonder he'd been so determined to push me away, to hold me at arm's length. His ex-girlfriend had cheated on him, abused his trust, and he'd just found out his mom was sick, leaving him heartbroken all over again. He was probably scared of losing me, too, of feeling that kind of pain. Unfortunately, I understood where he was coming from.

When he eventually spoke, the line of his jaw hardened. "I found out last month. Dad accidentally forwarded me a website link for a health support group instead of sending it to Mom." Those slate blue eyes locked back on mine, containing a thundercloud of emotions. "That's why I dropped everything and rushed home. You get it now, don't you? Why I couldn't tell you what was going on?"

I nodded, tears blurring my vision.
He'd kept it from me because he didn't want it to come between Angie and I. He didn't want me to be in on the secret, to have to lie to her, too.
Grief formed like a brick in my throat as I opened my mouth, trying to drag in air.

And then delayed recognition crept in, my entire body going cold. But it was Angie's voice that cut through the heavy silence that had crashed-landed on the table. "cancer ? You have cancer ? "
I fought the tears that tried to sneak out of the corners of my eyes. I couldn't bring myself to look up, not even when Teresa finally answered, "Yes, honey. I have cancer."
Oh God.
I tried to concentrate on the uneaten slice of chocolate ripple cake in front of me and not on the knowledge that my best friend's mom had an incurable neurodegenerative disorder—another person I considered family.

It was too hard to digest, like a bitter acid that was burning a hole in my gut. I didn't want to see her suffer, to watch the disease progress.

There was a strained pause, and Sam chimed in, "We planned to tell you all at the same time, but I guess things just don't work out how we want them to sometimes."

That was the understatement of the century. I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.
Teresa continued, "But that's only part of the reason why we're here tonight." I winced as if I'd been struck, afraid of what else she might say. "You see, when life shakes you by the shoulders, it forces you to wake you up to what you've been taking for granted. You stop living in fear, and you start to realize what's actually important. I want to start living, honey, especially while I still can, before I lose my independence."

Hollowness carved deeper at my insides, but I stayed quiet.
Angie hesitated, blinking several times. "What? I'm so confused, Mama. What exactly are you saying?"
"That tonight should be a celebration."

"We've decided that it's time we grab life by the horns, do the things we've always wanted to do," Sam went on quickly, his eyes shimmering behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
A smile crept over Teresa's features. "It's always been our dream to travel around Europe in one of those motorhomes... and well, we're going to make that happen. No more excuses," she rushed on with newfound thrill. "We've decided to retire and sell the house."

                            *******

Jake didn't talk for the twenty minutes or so that the car ride took to get back to my house. When I'd dared to ask how he was doing, he'd wordlessly reached over to rest his hand on my knee, squeezing gently. But the look he'd slid me as we'd pulled up at a stoplight spoke volumes, and my heart ached with the anguish I'd seen on his face.

So when he finally idled up to the curb outside my house and more silence drifted out between us, I scrubbed my palms down my tights, suddenly nervous. My stomach dipped as any residual adrenaline from dinner faded and the gravity of the situation hit me full-force.
I cleared my throat. "We should talk about this."