“Can I ask you a question?” I ask, bypassing his.
“Sure.”
“Why do you like me so much? You barely know me.” I suck my lower lip into my mouth biting down on it. For some reason, the answer to this question matters.
“When I first saw you, it was like life finally made sense. Like your eyes held all the answers to questions I’ve been asking myself for years. But when you jumped into that fight with my family, it was confirmation for me that you were always meant to be there. Everything since then has just further proven this. Especially when you cared enough to hear me out about why I was upset. Every time we talk, I find a new reason to like you, but something in my core is just telling me we’re supposed to be together.”
“Hmm.” Is all I can muster, my heart in my throat preventing me from speaking. What words can you say after that? Especially since every time I talk to him, I feel the same. “Thank you,” I say with a yawn. “I should probably hang up, but it was nice talking to you.”
“Well, can we do it again? Maybe nightly?”
“Maybe, but I will be back in San Francisco soon, so we can also try being friends in person.” Most likely, I will be in San Francisco for months while I go through whatever treatment I need.
It’s ironic that I don’t know what I want to do with my life, and now I have to fight for it. I may never dance on a stage again, and not because I don’t want to. You would think that would solidify the decision for me, but I’m still unsure if, after this, I want to go back. Especially now. I want to love every moment I have, and I have to see if I still love dancing.
“You know I don’t want to be your friend,” he says, drawing my attention again.
“That’s all I’m offering. Plus, I’m seeing someone anyway.”
“Yeah, I know. Charlie right? I don’t know what that has to do with us.”
I’m going to kill Rowan.
“There is no us.”
“Yet. There is no us, yet.”
I press my hand to my mouth to keep in both the sigh of frustration and the persistent giggles. Exasperated and delighted by his determination, he gets to me a little.
“Goodbye, Callahan.”
“Talk to you soon.” He does a kissing sound before I hang up on him, and I remember the sensation of those lips on my skin. Not at all prepared to feel like this, this soon, I’m so grateful towards him that I almost call him back.
Instead, I hope this feeling sinks into me enough that I can call the choreographer and let them know I won’t be able to do the tour. One of the things I’ve been dreading; it’s like the final nail, sinking me into my reality. Nothing is going to be the same moving forward, starting with this.
I decided to meet with the oncologist on my own to show myself I can do this. I’m not ready for anyone to see me fall apart, especially my dad.
I walk into the room with my shoulders thrown back and my head held high. I don’t even let it sink in while he breaks down what has to be done next.
“What is a hysterectomy and bilateral blah blah thing?”
He said the procedure, like I’m just supposed to know. I think I recognize a portion, but I hope what I think is wrong.
“Um,” he stares down at his desk. “It’s where we remove your uterus and all accompanying parts.”
“My whole uterus? But that means—” I stutter, my voice dying out as the gust of reality extinguishes my flame.
“It means you can’t carry children.” He flinches and lets out a big breath.
“Oh.” I involuntarily press a hand to my stomach, some sort of motherly instinct I didn’t realize I had. Feeling my gut flip, I for a moment pretend it’s a baby. But there will be no baby in there, ever. I let that sink in with a moment of silence.
The irony of having gone from the possibility of having a child to knowing that I may never have the chance is not lost on me. It only sits on my chest, another weight holding me down.
“You can always have eggs removed and frozen prior to the surgery, and use a surrogate at a later date. This doesn’t mean you can’t have kids of your own.” There is hope in his voice where there should be none as he tries to point out a silver lining.
“Oh.”
He falls silent, unsure of what to make of my quiet responses. I don’t know what to say to him at all.
