“Nah, you go. I gotta call Violet.”
“She’s still up?”
“Yeah. She said she’s having a bit of insomnia with all her new medications.”
“Damn. Give her my best.”
I leaned back onto the bed I’d claimed and pulled out my phone. Bringing up FaceTime, I called my sister. She answered just before I thought the call would end.
“Hey there, Rascal.”
“Hey yourself, you old bag.”
“That’s not any way to treat your elders.”
“You’re not old enough to be considered an elder.”
She laughed at that one, which turned into coughs. I took the chance to look at her. She’d been admitted to the hospital again yesterday afternoon. The cancer was back and more aggressive than before. It had spread into both of her lungs now and her liver.
Her skin was ashen and her eyes bloodshot. She looked like hell with the nasal cannula wrapped around her face. The wires from the IV machine hung over her shoulder, disappearing behind her.
Her hair had finally grown out to the length she wanted after her last round of chemo. But now, she’d have to shave it off again.
“How is life on the road this time?” she asked once she caught her breath.
“Eh, same. Not much has changed since we got signed.”
“So, what you’re saying is, you still haven’t made those millions yet?”
I chuckled. “You act like we don’t talk almost every single day. And no. I haven’t.”
“No girlfriend then, either.”
“Don’t start with me.”
“One day, you’ll find someone who gives you a run for your money.”
“Well, I hope I’ll be loaded at that point. That way, I can throw that money at her to keep her walking.” Violet was constantly nagging me about finding a girl and settling down. But she had been the one who helped me through all the stuff that happened with Vanessa, and she understood why I wasn’t interested. It still didn’t stop her from pushing the subject though. “How are the kids?”
The line between Violet’s brows deepened. “They aren’t thrilled that their mom is sick again.”
“I can imagine.”
“I just don’t know what to do, Damien. I don’t know how to be there for them. I might not even make it out of chemo this time.”
Suddenly, my throat became thick, and I found it hard to swallow. The thought that I could lose her made it feel like an elephant had taken up residence on my chest. “You will,” I mumbled.
You have to.
“Everyone dies. It might just be my time.”
I couldn’t talk about this. I couldn’t face the possibility.
“You could be right about that, but then who would tell me my chicken and dumplings were best served in the garbage can?”
“I only said that because mine are better.”
“Eh, I beg to differ. We both use grandma’s recipe. Potay-to - potah-to.”
