Page 109 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

‘Shush, shush. It’s okay. We’ve got each other; that’s the only thing that matters.’

I was beginning to understanding the truth of those words.

Mum’s shoulders shook slightly in my embrace, until Anneka burst through the curtain in a fluster, her eyes still red from crying.

‘I just saw the doctor leave your cubicle,’ she said, slightly gasping for breath. ‘What did she say? The cancer isn’t back, is it?’

What in the holy hell did she just say?

‘I’m sorry, the what?’

Anneka’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Fuck, Mum, I’m sorry, I—’

Mum placed a quaking hand on Anneka’s forearm. ‘It’s okay, love. No, it’s not the cancer. And it’s time she knew. Come and sit here, Flora.’ Mum created some space for me on the hospital bed and patted the small spot that had opened up next to her.

I numbly did as she instructed, resting half my bum on the mattress. Mum took both my hands and it felt like everything I’d ever known was about to shift on its axis.

‘For most of this year, I’ve been having treatment for breast cancer.’

‘What?! Mum! Why didn’t you say?’ I turned my gaze on Anneka. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

She opened her mouth, but Mum spoke first. ‘Anneka wanted to tell you. I told her not to.’

‘But why? I don’t get it. I could have helped. I should have helped! This is so fucked up!’

‘I thought you had enough on your plate with the wedding. I was going to tell you afterwards. But then, well, there wasn’t an afterwards, was there?’

‘You thought wrong, Mum!’ I quickly withdrew my hands from Mum’s frail grasp and buried my face in them. In the pocket of darkness created by my palm-cave, I re-appraised the last year through this new lens. Mum had never been hot on communication, but this year she had been more distant than usual. And no wonder they’d both seemed unmoved when they heard about the wedding being cancelled: Mum had cancer, for fuck’s sake.

Shit, does she still have cancer?

I re-emerged into the harshly lit reality.

‘Wait, was the treatment successful?’

Mum flashed a tight smile. ‘Yes, I had a lumpectomy towards the start of the year and then some radiotherapy after that, which blasted the leftover bastards away.’

‘Oh, thank God.’

‘Mum…’ Anneka’s tone was admonishing.

Shit, there’s more.

Mum sighed. ‘Fine. I’m not quite out of the woods, yet. I have to take some medication for a few years and have regular check-ups but, for now, the doctors reckon I’m probably cancer-free.’

‘“Probably”?! Oh, Mum.’ I buried my head in her shoulder and she stroked my hair slowly – the first time she’d touched it in about twenty years.

‘But why didn’t your hair fall out?’ I asked.

‘I didn’t need chemo, love. We caught it nice and early. That’s thanks to Anneka.’

Anneka leaned her bum on the bed next to me and rested her head on my shoulder. ‘I felt the lump when I was fake tanning her for last year’s Halloween party, and practically dragged her to the GP the next morning.’

I had so many more questions – including what kind of Halloween costume required fake tan to be applied to the boob region – but now wasn’t the time to ask them.

‘You should have told me, Mum.’

‘It is what it is.’