I ran a hand through my hair and stood. I considered what we had together a good friendship, but perhaps that was one-sided. I didn’t want to push her away, but if she wanted space, I’d give it to her.
Or at least I’d try, anyway.
Everyone had that point where they would cave and reach out, right?
Meanwhile, I had two little munchkins that weren’t so little anymore to keep me distracted.
Violet had begun her radiation and chemotherapy. Today, I was watching the kids while she met with a palliative care team to provide her comfort throughout the entire process. The nextsix months or so were going to be grueling for her, and I wanted her to have the support she needed while I toured.
I didn’t want her or the kids to worry about a single thing. The doctors planned to remove one of the tumors in her lungs in the next month as soon as it shrank enough during the treatments. They didn’t have an exact timeline.
I’d already told the other band members, and they were extremely supportive if we needed to cancel a show at the last minute so I could be here.
Even Colton kept his comments to himself, which was a small mercy. He and I still had this weird unspoken strain between us, snapping at each other for no reason.
Since this wasn’t Vi’s first time with cancer, the doctors were a bit concerned, afraid her body wouldn’t be able to handle the second round of treatments.
But as long as I was around, she would have the best chance money could buy.
After all, why have wealth if you can’t spend it on the people who mean the most to you?
I walked out the front door and greeted the typical overcast fall Michigan day.
I didn’t grab anything to put over my t-shirt before coming outside. My jeans and Timberland boots kept me warm in the 60-something-degree weather.
Besides, someone had my favorite hoodie, and I hadn’t gotten it back yet.
I placed my phone down on the little table next to the rocking chairs on the porch before walking to the driveway where my sister had set up a basketball hoop.
“Grant, are you ready for some good ol’ smackdown?” I reached out to grab the ball from him as he dribbled, but he was too quick.
There was a really good chance his skills had surpassedmine while I’d been off on tour, and I was the one about to get my ass handed to me on a Thanksgiving Day platter with all the fixin’s.
“I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re old.” Grant pushed the ball into the ground, catching it with his other hand.
“And I’m not going to try too hard because I’m old. So, we’re on the same page here.”
Grant laughed. “One on one then?”
“Can’t we play something easy? Like horse or that other game you spell stuff.”
“Those games are for little kids.”
“And old people.”
“Come on, don’t be such a sissy. You’ll be fine. I’m only fourteen, remember? I’m sure you’ll beat me.”
He was buttering me up, and I appreciated it. I was still taller than him, though not by much these days. Grant had yet to hit that growth spurt where you finally filled out. He still looked like a long string bean with messy blonde hair and blue eyes. Maylee had the same coloring. It was a shame they’d gotten those features from their father. My sister was blessed with light brown hair and hazel eyes. As Grant matured, he looked more and more like his father.
“Fine. I get the ball first, though.”
“Age before beauty.”
I pulled my face up in mockery as I grabbed the ball from his hands and ran toward the hoop.
…And was completely overtaken by this fourteen-year-old.
Grant blocked almost every shot I threw and made twice the amount I tried to make.
