“I got this for you,” she said in her happy, singsong tone. It was like she’d forgotten our mother had told her she was sick, and maybe that was for the best.
The five of us gathered around my mom’s bed and ate hospital cafeteria apple pie, drank chocolate milk, and acted like this was an ordinary occurrence for our family.
It was anything but, and something told me we’d have many more moments like this. Toni would make sure of it.
Chapter 9
Antonia
The day after Miri told the kids about her diagnosis, I brought her home. We’d heard from Dr. Frederick’s Boston colleague, whose assessment was the same. Dr. Patricia from Dana-Farber had reviewed Miri’s scans and confirmed the diagnosis: stage IV pancreatic adenocarcinoma with metastases to liver, lungs, and breast tissue. She agreed with the aggressive chemotherapy approach and estimated the same timeline of six to twelve months with treatment.
This wasn’t the news either of us wanted to hear, and with it, Miri decided she would do her treatment in Grove Hill, where she could stay with her kids. I didn’t blame her, but I was also angry.
At her. Health care. The world.
I was going to lose my best friend. Her kids were going to lose their mom. None of this was fair, and yet I had to paste on a happy face each time someone entered the room because reality was depressing enough.
“Even the best doctors in the world can’t change what this is,” I said to myself as I stared out the kitchen window.
My fingers tapped the countertop while I waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Miri was asleep, my mom had taken Nova to the mall, and Cutter was at his friend Flinn’s house. The quietness was unnerving, unwanted, and oddly needed.
The bean water stopped filling the pot, and I poured myself a cup, added cream, and then made my way outside to the porch. After turning on the portable heater, I sat in one of the rockers, sipped my coffee, and let my mind wander.
I needed to make a list of things that had to be done in preparation for Miri’s passing. Approaching the inevitable, though, seemed like such a crass thing to do. How would I sit my friend down and ask the important questions? There was so much to do, with many of them being urgent. It was all stuff I didn’t want to think about, yet I didn’t have a choice.
My eyes closed as my foot moved the rocker back and forth. This was where Miri and I liked to sit and watch the sunset. She’d always said she would buy an old farmhouse with a porch because this was exactly what she wanted: the peace and quiet of the country, but not so far away that she didn’t have services. Miri wanted land: a place for her kids to run free and where she could grow her own vegetables. The only thing she didn’t have, thankfully, was animals. Although Nova desperately wanted a puppy.
As if I had conjured up a dog, a yellow one came onto the porch and headed right up to me.
“Scout!”
The dog barked and wagged its tail. Its owner appeared and gave me a wave. I waved back, recognizing him as Cutter’s coach.
“Sorry about my dog. We were out walking, and I usually let him run along the road. Miriam gives him treats when she’s out.”
“He’s not bothering me.” I scratched him behind his ear. He rested his head on my lap, and for a brief second, all my worries dissipated. How could an animal I didn’t even know ease my mind so easily?
Weston stepped onto the porch and leaned against the column. I’d meant to ask Miri more about him, but I hadn’t found the time. I got the sense she was fond of him, and maybe there was something there she hadn’t told me about yet.
“Can I get you some coffee?” The thought quickly became a question.
“Sure, I’d love some.”
I motioned for him to sit in the other rocker and excused myself. Pausing in the hall, I listened for Miri moving around upstairs. Dr. Frederick already had her on some medicine, and early next week they’d install a PICC line to administer her chemo.
In the kitchen, I pulled a tray out from under the counter and added cream and sugar containers to it. I refilled my cup and poured a mug for Weston. I searched high and low for dog treats and couldn’t find anything but took a carrot out of the refrigerator, hoping Scout liked them.
Weston was near the steps, bent over and inspecting the rotting boards. There wasn’t a part of the house that didn’t have an issue that needed to be addressed. I mentally added it to the long list growing in my mind. The smartest thing would be to sell the house and put the money into a trust for the kids—if it even made a profit.
“Just another thing falling apart around me,” I said as I carried the tray to the small table between the two chairs.
“I can fix it,” he said as he sat down. Scout followed, sitting obediently next to him. The dog looked out over the yard, watching for some hidden danger only he could sense. “I’ve loaned Miriam some of my tools when she’s fixing stuff. She’ll never accept my help, though.”
“She’s stubborn. Me, not so much,” I told him. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“Duly noted.” He held his cup up. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I didn’t know what you liked and forgot to ask, so I brought cream and sugar out.”
