Page 31 of The House Guest
“Those are the best kind of friends,” I said. Most of my friends from back home had gone by the wayside.
“I’m a bit ashamed, actually, that I didn’t reach out to them as soon as I got back out here.”
“Doesn’t seem like they’re mad about it…”
He suddenly pulled into a coffee shop drive-thru.
“You’re getting a coffee?” I asked.
“I didn’t have enough this morning, and I’m getting a headache. What do you want?”
“I’ll take an iced vanilla latte. Thank you.”
After he made it through the drive-thru, he parked.
“Shouldn’t we be heading to the supermarket, so we can get back to your friends?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to enjoy this in peace for a bit and talk to you first.”
Ah. Perhaps there was another purpose to this drive. “Talk to me about what?”
“About Candace, actually.”
“Oh. Okay…”
He leaned his head on the back of the seat. “I feel like shit.”
I stopped stirring my drink. “Why?”
“I think I was subconsciously avoiding seeing them because I was afraid I’d treat her differently and she’d see through it. I never want to make her uncomfortable. This is my first time seeing her…since the diagnosis.”
“Why did you think you’d come across that way?”
“I get triggered around people with cancer because of my mother. I do my best not to let it show, but I’m not the best actor. That was partly why I avoided seeing them. But now that they’ve come over, I’m glad I didn’t put it offany longer.” He pulled back the lid on his coffee. “Not sure why, but I wanted to explain that to you. Maybe you can help keep me in check. Let me know if I’m coming across as weird at any point.”
“Well, I’ve thought you were weird from the moment I met you.” I winked. “Kidding, but did we even need condiments, or was this just an excuse to talk?”
“We did, actually.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “Candace told me she appreciates it when people treat her normally and don’t make a big thing about her diagnosis. She doesn’t want her life to be about the disease. I didn’t ask her what kind of cancer she has. Do you know?”
“Ovarian.” He stared out the windshield. “Same as my mother.”
Now his reaction made even more sense.
“Oh.” I nodded. “Have they mentioned her prognosis?”
Dorian shook his head. “She and Chandler don’t like to talk about the details. I don’t blame them.”
“I think the best thing you can do is to stop avoiding them. Don’t worry so much about how you’re coming across. Just be present and enjoy your friends without trying to be perfect.”
“You’re right.” He lifted his drink in a salute. “And I’m glad you happened to be home today, so you could join us.”
“Me, too.”
Trying to ignore what felt like a massive swarm of butterflies in my stomach, I stayed in the car and continued to sip my coffee as Dorian ran into the adjacent supermarket to grab the needed items.
When we got back to the house, Chandler wasted no time busting Dorian’s balls.
