Page 52 of Body Shot

“I know. She’s very talented. She earns her living in front of the camera, but she really prefers to be behind it.” I pause. “And a few of the pictures are ones my parents took. They loved to travel and we used to go somewhere every summer vacation. Until my dad got sick.”

The corners of his mouth turn down and his eyes soften. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I was sixteen. He died of pancreatic cancer.” I keep my voice matter-of-fact, as I always do talking about this.

“Christ.” He reaches for one of my hands. “Is that why you want to find a cure for cancer?”

“I was interested in medicine even before he died. I was sort of thinking about being a doctor, but I discovered I love doing research, and that seemed like a way I could help a lot of people instead of just one at a time.”

He rubs his chest and drops his gaze. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

“And then about six months after he died, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.”

His gaze rockets back up to meet mine. “Jesus! No!”

“Yeah. And we went through it all over again. She had treatment but she ended up dying two years later. I think she just didn’t have the strength to fight it, after losing Dad.”

“Jesus. That’s a lot.”

“I survived.” I give him a reassuring smile. I hate the sympathy that always comes with this disclosure.

He gives me a long look, his lips thinning. “If both your parents died of cancer, do you worry . . . about yourself?”

13

BECK

I watch Hayden’s face.

“Yes,” she says. “I mean, I did. I’ve had genetic testing to see if I’m carrying the BRCA1 and BRCA2 mutations.”

“Fuck.” I rub my face. Relief loosens muscles that had suddenly become tense. My gut still feels tight.

Thinking about Hayden having cancer . . . Christ. Shit just got real.

“Both my parents had the testing done too, after their diagnoses. They wanted it done for me.”

“How does them having the testing done help you?”

“If they had the mutation, then they could pass it on to me. My mother did, but not my father. So when I was tested and I was negative, we knew it was an unequivocal negative.”

I swallow. “So that’s good.”

“Yeah. My risk of cancer isn’t much different than the general population.”

How is she talking about this so calmly? So pragmatically? We’re talking about life and death, here.

“I do the things we should all do,” she continues. “I don’t smoke, I eat healthy, I use sunscreen. I work out . . . well, I haven’t lately. I’ve just been so busy. But I used to go to the gym before work a few times a week. I need to get back to that.”

“Right.” I pull in a long breath. That fucking sucks, to lose her parents at such a young age, both to the same brutal disease. She seems so scientific about it all, though, talking about genes and mutations and not grief and sadness.

“My brother died.” I close my eyes briefly. Did I really just say that? Inevertalk about my brother.

“Oh no.” She covers the hand that’s holding hers with her other one. “How?”

“In a skateboarding accident.”

“Oh my God.”

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