Page 7 of How You See Me
“Yeah. Same as always.” I rub a hand over my face, grit and stubble scraping my palms. “What’s up?”
She exhales—this bone-tired sound that digs holes in my heart. “They’re transferring Ava to Charlottesville tomorrow. The doctors are talking bone marrow transplants now and want her close to the pediatric cancer center there.”
I sit up straighter. “I’ll donate. Where do I get tested?”
“We’re not there yet, honey. They’re still pushing chemo, and think she’ll get on the list faster there if needed.” Another tired breath. She’s as worn down as me—more, probably.
“How is she?”
“As good as a nine-year-old with a rare, aggressive leukemia can be. She’s exhausted. But she tries to hide it with the tenacity of a Marine.”
“She’s tougher than most of the recruits I train.”
“Gets that from her brother.” Her voice cracks around the edges but holds. “She misses you.”
Dual tears trail down my cheeks before I realize they’d formed. I swat them away, taking my frustration out on my cheeks, and pay for it. “I’d give anything to be there with you both. You know that, right?”
“I know, sweetheart. Have you asked your CO? Maybe he’ll authorize—”
“No.” The word comes out too sharp. Too bitter. Major Perry wouldn’t sign off on leave if I were bleeding out on his desk.
My commanding officer. The reason my promotion sat in a drawer for two years collecting dust. It took someone higher up, recognizing me, to force the submission. If there was a human version of barbed wire, it’s that prolific asshole.
“I’ll try,” I say, softer, to patch the hole I punched in her hope. “But don’t mention it to Ava. The odds of getting even a day approved are slim to none.”
“That’s too bad. She’d love a visit. But more than that, she wants you to take that road trip you promised.”
“Why would I go without her? The only reason I mentioned it was to give her something to look forward to after chemo. That trip was for her, not me.”
“I know. But . . . she’s scared she won’t—”
“Mom.”
I rake my fingers through my hair, tugging hard at the roots.Please don’t say it.It doesn’t matter how many times I’d patched bullet wounds or dragged bleeding bodies out of firefights—none of it trained me for this. I squeeze my eyes shut, rage flaring. Not at Mom. At the world. The unfairness. The fragility. It pisses me off how someone so innocent could be targeted by something sofucking cruel.
“It’s her wish, Hayes. She wants to see you live a little and have fun for a change. You’ve forgotten how to do that.”
“Mom.” I’m out of words to stop this ambush. “Fun doesn’t really fit into my life right now.”
“She made you an itinerary with little maps and stars next to places she thought you’d like.”
Damn. “She did?”
“She’s very excited about this. Talk to your superior, please.”
“I don’t want to get her hopes up.”
“Hope is what she needs right now. We all do.”
I nod, even though she can’t see it. “Okay. I’ll talk to him today.”
“Thank you. I know it isn’t easy.”
In the spirit of uneasy positions . . . “How are you holding up?”
“I’m good. Your sisters are helping when they can.”
“What about money?” I check the clock. I’m running out of time.
