“I will need to refer you to an oncologist for treatment. They will go over the plan of how we will beat this.”
He sounds so sure that I wonder if he is allowed to do that. Is he allowed to give me hope? I don’t need that right now. I need information.
Before Farrah can jump in and start to lead the conversation, I do. I make sure to ask every question that comes to mind, grabbing her notebook from her. Whatever shock overcame me at the start fades as a new determination takes hold.
I’ll have my time to fall apart. I will find a moment to cry. Right now, I need to put on my armor and get ready to fight whatever is going to come next.
Farrah squeezes my hand, letting me know I’m not alone in this battle. When we stand up, I pull my hand from hers, not ready for her to actually be by my side.
He walks us out and lets me know the oncologist will call me for an appointment. The whole time, he looks like he was just given the diagnosis.
“I’m going back to LA,” I say once we reach the elevator.
“Okay, I’ll come with you.”
“No, I don’t want you to.” I don’t look at her, not ready to face her reaction on top of everything I’m already feeling.
“I’m not going to leave you alone.” She grabs for my hand again, but I step outside her reach.
“I want to be alone right now.” I hate that my voice shakes, and that she takes that as a sign to give me a hug. I’ve leaned on her enough this month.
“You shouldn’t be by yourself. I don’t care what you say.” The elevator opens, and we step inside. The last thing I need is for us to be stuck in this unescapable place together. She steps into my view, making me see the pinched corners of her eyes, her pulled thin lips, and that she is breathing from her nose.
“Farrah, stop trying to force me to do what you would.”
“Damnit, Monty, you can’t process this on your own.”
The sigh I let out feels like the last of my patience has left my body.
“I’m not going to process this. I’m going to put on a videogame, get lost in the gameplay, and not think about anything.”
“Then I will sit with you.”
The door opens, and I’m so thankful that I don’t think twice when I push past her. Storming out of the building, I don’t look back when she calls my name. Stubborn to a fault, she doesn’t take that as a clue to leave me alone and runs up next to me, impressively fast on her heels.
“Whether or not you like it, I’m coming.”
I stop my hands from coming up to grip my face the way I wish I could grip hers.
“Farrah! Do you really think what I need right now is to be arguing with you?”
“No, but—”
“Okay then, leave me alone.”
This time, she doesn’t follow me when I walk to my car.
A twenty-four-hour binge that results in no sleep, way too much candy, and empty energy drink cans surrounding me has somehow not distracted me the way I hoped, leaving me staring at the ceiling in my bedroom. It’s been long enough that I’ve become well acquainted with the possible watermark next to the light. I call it Casper, because I feel like its gentle existence is teaching me something, all while haunting me. Or maybe I have reached the point of being delusional. Does it matter?
The buzz of my phone has me rolling over to see that Farrah has sent another check-in text. All I can manage is a thumbs-up, which doesn’t seem to satisfy her because it now starts to ring.
“Ugh,” I yawn out, throwing the pillow on my head. I wait for the phone to go quiet again before I remove it.
At least I’m so tired I can’t be sad. Even though I’m really sad. No, sad is the wrong word. Distraught? Heartbroken? Scared shitless?Something along those lines. The way my chest constricts and my hands shake, one of those has to apply.
I wish I could sleep so that I could avoid all of this, but every time I close my eyes, my fears manifest as nightmares. I try again, and in seconds, my heart rate goes up as I imagine the tumors ripping through my skin.
“Fine!” I scream at no one and sit up.
