“You know that Prada bag I gave you for your birthday?”
“Yeah!”
“I got that for free!”
“Here I thought I was special!”
“Hey, out of all the people I could’ve given it to, I gave it to you!”
“That’s true! You gonna get a Grandeur wig and be pretentious when I take you to lunch at Denny’s?”
“Hell, yeah!” That was the most enthusiastic Jamie acted about her health woes. Still, she knew it could be a lingering something else, and Seena admitted she had been recently sick as well with an unwelcome virus. Jamie should really take one of those home tests. What if it was in it for the long haul?
She waited to take a “snot stick” test until long after Etta collapsed in bed, mumbling numbers into her pillow. Jamie stole into the bathroom to take a shower and test her fate.
“This is the weirdest shit ever.” She read the instructions, and not oncedid she feel comfortable doing the test.This will humble any woman.Not just the reason for shoving a stick up her nostrils while she sat on the toilet. The actual act itself. She reminded herself that plenty of those rich women who acted as if their shit didn’t stink had done this too.
The worst was waiting. Jamie dried off and groomed herself in front of her bathroom mirror while she waited, all while her cat Barbarossa insisted on barging in.What a time for her to show up.The fat loaf had made herself scarce while Jamie was sick. As for the year-old kittens that were left in the backyard a long time ago? They spent most of their time in the study and Jamie’s salon.I used to take them out with me. Rich people took their pets to high-end restaurants all the time.
Now she was stuck with her pride and joy, Barbarossa, who sat in the middle of the bathroom floor swishing her bushy tail and staring at the test balancing on the sink.
“Don’t you dare,” Jamie said. “That’s not a toy.”
Her look said,“I dare you to tell me that when I bat it around this floor and chew on it.”Because she would. Barbarossa was the most well-behaved asshole when Etta was in the room, but when it was just the cat and her inept mother, she quickly turned into a naughty toddler.
Jamie pulled out a stool from beneath the vanity and sat, gesturing for Barbarossa to hop in her lap. The cat narrowed her eyes.“Please. We’re in a bathroom and you just snotted everywhere.”Jamie bent over and stretched her arm as far as it could go, Barbarossa slowly inching back. Even so, she never escaped out of the cat-wide hole in the door.
While waiting, Jamie searched for various cancer symptoms on her phone.What am I doing? Just hurting myself mentally, I see.She couldn’t help herself. Knowing that she had cancer in her family made her suddenly realize her mortality. While Etta would undoubtedly pay for whatever was necessary…
Shit. Oh, my God.Jamie’s eyes widened as she scrolled throughsymptoms and prognoses. She checked at least half of the major symptoms and saw something else that left a giant rock in her gut.
“This kind of cancer results in the highest rates of infertility among female patients.”
After fifteen minutes, Jamie grabbed the test off the sink. Her eyes remained closed as she held it.Come on, girl. Be brave.Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Negative.
While that was one less thing to worry about, it only made Jamie worry more.What if I have cancer?She perched on the edge of the tub and continued her doom scrolling. The more symptoms she checked off, including a family member having the same type of cancer, Jamie found it more difficult to breathe.
I might have cancer…The kind that, even if it was caught early, had a higher chance of rendering her infertile for the rest of her life. Never mind the other shit!
Jamie stumbled out of the bedroom, bile shooting up her throat. The shock was too much. Her eyes clouded over. Her feet tripped over themselves. She practically clawed at her face while Barbarossa ran beneath her feet and shot toward the bed. “Haha. You’re a mess.”She twirled her tail before sniffing Etta’s arm flung over her face. Barbarossa nudged it, and when Etta didn’t respond, curled up on her chest. Eventually, Etta’s other hand landed on Barbarossa and squeezed her. The giant cat looked most pleased with herself as she glared at Jamie, who still hovered by the bathroom door.
Etta. I’ll have to tell Etta.
Not only was Jamie probablysick-sick, but she would have to fucking tell Etta!
Chapter 9
Best to rip the Band-Aid off. Jamie knew if she didn’t tell Etta soon, she would put it off until she was on her second round of chemo and tell people she was “just a little under the weather,” praying they believed her bullshit.
There was only one good opportunity. Etta had scheduled her first day off in forever for that Sunday, so Jamie arranged a home-cooked meal that Saturday night. She gave Beatrice and Harris the night off so she could have the most privacy possible with her girlfriend.
Because this would bewild.
Nothing had come simple to Jamie since she entered the mental feedback loop ofIs it possible I have cancer? Why!and this included cooking. Fine idea to cook Etta dinner. Quite another to attempt something as simple as baked chicken. Knives slipped from her shaking hands. Fruits and vegetables shot to the floor when she wasn’t looking. The oven refused to preheat – and then tried to nuke the chicken to the sun. Jamie salvaged it before it got too dry, then overcompensated with seasoning. When she tasted the chicken, she had to spend the next ten precious minutes attempting to de-season it.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.Etta would come home tired but hopeful for a day off. She had been interviewing potential partners all week. Taking them out to grand lunches and dinners. Running them by Monique, who was as busy as ever with her own life. Even running them by the likes of Helen and other important people like Kennedy Anderssen, Donovan Mathison, and Silas Allen. People who had worked with everyone in the business world. Because Etta was not partnering up with someone who didn’t have the experience and references to back themselves up.
