Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“And now it’s too late.”
I didn’t want to agree with him, at least not verbally, so I said nothing because yes, it was too late. Miri would need a miracle or an act of God to survive this. Even with treatment, it would have to be so aggressive and work immediately for her to have a fighting chance, and her doctor said that was unlikely. Too many cells to fight all at once.
“Cutter, don’t let these days, weeks, and months be filled with anger. Your mom doesn’t deserve to see it. Not on your face or mine. In private, we’ll rage.”
I pulled forward and drove back to the house slowly. As soon as I put the car in park, Cutter bolted from the car and ran toward the garage. I watched for him until he emerged. He started shooting baskets on the basketball hoop Miri had installed a couple of years ago. I left my headlights on for him.
“When you’re done, can you shut the lights off?”
“Sure,” he said as he took another shot. Either he would or I’d wake up to a dead battery. Looking back at my car, I sighed heavily. We hadn’t gone to pick up Miri’s car from the hospital yet and would need to do that tomorrow.
It didn’t escape my notice that he didn’t thank me. Honestly, I didn’t expect him to. He was already hurting, and at sixteen, there were enough emotions going on in his body; he didn’t need me to harp on him.
I paused on the porch and listened to the thud of the basketball when it hit the backboard and the swish of the net with each basket he made. Sports would be his outlet and hopefully help him grieve and heal. He would be surrounded by a coach who clearly cared for him and teammates who, I hoped, would have his back.
Inside, the earlier excitement in the house was gone, and left in its wake was the knowledge that someone we loved with our whole hearts was dying.
I leaned against the entrance from the hallway to the living room and watched Miri as she sat on the couch. She had the television on, but if I had to bet, she wasn’t watching it. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind. Hearing from a medical professional that you’re dying has to do something to your psyche. Every day, we wake up and live to die. It’s a matter of time for all of us. But for Miri, finding out she had an impending end date must have been screwing her up even more.
Clearing my throat, I made my way into the room, smiling at her as I drew closer. She tucked her legs underneath her, giving me the space to sit beside her.
“Dinner was fun,” she said, to which I nodded.
“It was. I’m glad Eleni could come over. She makes Cutter smile.”
“Among other things,” Miri said with a smirk.
I shook my head. “You were lovestruck once upon a time. I’m sorry, I mean twice.”
“And look where that got me.”
My eyes looked toward the ceiling, where I assumed my mom and Nova were.
“I believe I said something philosophical back then when you found out you were pregnant with Cutter.”
“Something about how he wasn’t an accident?”
I nodded. “Those were wise words back then.” We both laughed because, accident or not, she’d fallen into the same trap and had ended up with Nova.
“Do you remember the promise you made to me that day?”
I thought for a minute and then shook my head. In our three-decade-long friendship, I’d made her a lot of promises. I certainly didn’t want to think about one, only to find out I hadn’t fulfilled my end of things.
“That day, when we lay there under the clouds, I asked if you would take care of them if something ever happened to me. Only at the time, there was one. Now I have two.”
It took a moment, but everything came back to me. That day changed us both. My best friend was going to be a mom and within days would move into our house, while her parents would lose their ever-loving minds. I’d never seen people go batshit crazy before, threatening my parents with baseball bats, all while reciting sermons from their church.
“I remember,” I told her. “But I also distinctly remember me saying nothing would ever happen to you.” Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I sniffed hard and swallowed the lump in my throat.
Miri reached for my hand. “You and I both know that isn’t true anymore, and I don’t have much time to get everything figured out, but this one is important.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. I didn’t want to look at her, out of fear I would lose it, so I kept my eyes forward and my hand in hers.