Page 108 of Love Marks

Joe exhales and meets my eyes. “It’s metastasis. The cancer has spread to her liver now. Maybe other places.”

“But…” I shake my head. “No, she was getting better. She said she’s been feeling a lot better.”

Joe flinches slightly, pity in his eyes. “You know your mother. She’s too strong for her own good.” He shakes his head. “I noticed a few weeks ago she looked a little yellow, but she insisted everything was fine.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. She’s been lying, downplaying how bad it’s been. She’s been trying to be strong, to protect us from how bad she feels. I feel…angry. Mad at her for keeping this from me. She should have told me.

If you were around more, maybe she would have.

Guilt claws its way up my throat as I blink back a round of fresh tears. This is my fault. If I’d been paying more attention, spending as much time with my mom as I used to, I would have noticed that something was wrong. We could have done something earlier.

My phone buzzes against my pocket. It’s Wesley, calling for the fifth time since I left his place. I can’t think about him right now. Can’t let myself spiral into the depths of his betrayal. I turn my phone off.

I need to focus on my mom. Nothing else matters.

After what feels like an eternity, a doctor strides down the hallway towards us. Joe shoots to his feet and I follow. The doctor reaches his hand out to shake mine.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Brooks. I’m in charge of your mother’s case. I just got off the phone with Dr. Emmanuel to update him on your mother’s results, which we’ve just received. She’s awake and we can all go discuss the results together, if you’d like.”

I nod and follow Dr. Brooks and Joe into the room at the end of the hall. My heart is beating rapidly against my chest as I take another rattled breath, trying to prepare myself. But nothing can prepare me for the sight in front of me.

My mother is a jumble of wires and machines. Her face looks crumpled and hallowed out, a faint yellow tint under her skin. It’s too much, the sight of it. I can feel nausea swirling in my gut as I blink again, willing myself not to cry. I have to be strong for her.

A nurse flutters next to her bed, fiddling with the computer that my mom is hooked up to.

“Ms. Taylor?” Dr. Brooks rests a gentle hand on my mother’s shoulder, and she stirs, opening her eyes. “Your family is here. I’ve got news to share with all of you.”

My feet are moving on their own and suddenly I’m beside her, my hand in hers.

“Mom,” I choke out.

She pats my hand, another tentative smile. “It’s okay.” She looks at Dr. Brooks and nods.

“First things first, we need to get the internal bleeding under control, which means getting you into surgery right away. Vera is going to take you into prep shortly, once we get all the paperwork signed. It’s a fairly simple procedure to repair the liver damage caused from your breast cancer metastasis.”

I blink, trying to take in his words. Nodding along.

“Now the surgery won’t actually cure the metastasis. I’ve spoken to Dr. Emmanuel about the spread of the cancer and assuming all goes well with the surgery, we’ll need to run some more tests to figure out the next move after that. It could mean increasing chemo treatments.”

I can feel myself shaking. My mom squeezes my hand reassuringly and I hate that she is comforting me. I need to get it together.

“The good news is that we’ve caught this fairly early. The cancer hasn’t spread beyond the liver and if we’re lucky, we can stop it from spreading any further.”

“The surgery.” I can’t help but interrupt. “Is it…like, what are the odds? The risk level?”

“Sweetheart,” my mom says in a chiding tone.

Dr. Brooks looks at me. “All surgeries carry some risk level. While this type of surgery has very high positive outcomes, the CT scan alone can’t give me a full sense of what her liver looks like. There is a chance of finding more tumors than expected.”

“What happens then?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“We can’t know for sure. I know that’s not the answer you want, and I’m sorry, but I can assure you that I’m a skilled surgeon. Your mom is in good hands.”

Dr. Brooks smiles tightly and tucks his clipboard under his hands. “I’m going to get you the paperwork and book us an OR. I’ll be back shortly if you have any questions.”

It’s quiet when he leaves. I’m still holding my mom’s hand and Joe is sitting on the other side of the bed, his hands folded in his lap.

“Well,” my mom croaks. “Not the best Saturday night I’ve had.”

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