Page 2 of Eleanor & Grey

That’s all that came to mind.

I shook my head. “No. No, that’s not true.”

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s true.”

“No,” I repeated. “It’s not.”

There was no way Mom had cancer.

People like her didn’t get cancer. She was the healthiest woman in the world. I mean, heck, her idea of a crazy snack was juicing carrots, apples, and a cucumber. If you cut her, she’d probably bleed out broccoli. Healthy people like Mom didn’t get sick. They only got healthier. There was no way…

Oh, no…

Now Dad was crying, too.

Dad didn’t cry. I could count on one hand how many times I’d ever seen him shed a tear.

“Eleanor…” He called me Eleanor when things were serious, and my father was hardly ever a serious man. He sniffled and shut his eyes. “This is hard for us all. We wanted to tell you when we found out, but we didn’t know how. Plus, there were more tests to do and—”

“How bad?” I asked.

They both answered with silence.

That couldn’t have been good.

My heart felt as if it was being ripped piece by piece from my chest.

Mom’s hand flew over her mouth as the tears kept falling.

Dad spoke again. Saying my full name—again. “Eleanor…please understand. We’ll have to all stand together to get through this.”

“We’re going to fight it,” Mom promised, her voice shaky and scared and unsure and fragmented. “We’re going to fight this, Ellie, I swear. You, your father, and me. We’re going to fight back.”

I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to run. I wanted to stand up and dash out of the room, out of the house, out of that reality. But, the way Mom’s eyes stared into mine. The way I could see how she was hurting. The way every inch of her body shook from fear and pain.

I couldn’t leave her.

Not like that.

I leaned toward her on the couch and wrapped her with my arms. I burrowed myself into her, placing my head against her chest, hearing her heart beat wildly. “I’m sorry,” I whispered as tears burst from my eyes and sadness overtook me. I didn’t know what more I could do, so I just held her tighter and kept repeating the words. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She pulled me tighter, and held on as if she wouldn’t ever let go. Then, Dad’s arms wrapped around the two of us, and we all held on for dear life.

Our tears fell in sync, and we stayed locked together as one unit.

As the hurt kept hurting, Mom placed her lips against my forehead and softly spoke words that made me cry even harder. “I’m so sorry, Ellie.”

But everything would be okay, because we were going to fight it.

We were going to fight it together.

And we were going to win.

1

Eleanor

June 21, 2003

---