Page 111 of Goodbye Again
“Well, they do, actually. It was in one of the pamphlets they gave me after my diagnosis. They called it, “The Shrinking Support System”—or something. It was veryWhat To Expect When You’re Expecting, only instead of expecting to bring new life into the world, it’s about how the life is leaving you and that’s going to be really hard on your friends and family.”
An ache swirls in my chest. I can’t imagine how it must feel to be going through your hardest fight and realizing your circle is smaller than you thought it was. I reach out and take her hand, because I’m unsure of what to say. In my line of work, I’ve learned so much about trauma, grief, and the human response to both, but it’s much different experiencing it firsthand.
Audrey places her hand on mine. “I used to have so many friends. Or at least, I thought I did. It turns out that group only exists when I’m shiny and healthy, not when ill with patchy bald hair. Emily Facetimes me now and then with the girls and their boogery faces...” her voice trails as she lets out a laugh and then sighs. “Now I mostly just have people giving me space and privacy.” She emphasizes the words like she’s quoting someone—her bottom lip trembles.
“Do you need space and privacy?” I ask.
She sobs and immediately covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head. I hold her hand tighter. “No. No, that’s not what I need. I need my people. I need to laugh again. I need to feel normal... I miss my life.”
She’s still crying and now I am too. For a few moments, we sit in the quiet until she speaks.
“We called off the wedding,” she says into the quiet room, and I immediately start coughing. The tickle in my throat feels like a scratch and I try to clear it away but it’s uncontrollable.
When it finally subsides, I say, “Sorry. I swear I’m not sick.”
She smiles, rubbing a bony hand over my knee. “No, I’m sorry I dropped such a crazy statement in your lap. I should have eased into it.”
“It’s just a little confusing. JP said you two got married...” my voice trails and my brain wants to explode.
“We did, but before we found out about the cancer, we had called it off,” she says, then tilts her head. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”
“We haven’t spoken until recently,” I reason and then wonder why he didn’t call me or ask Austin for my number when he got a new phone and new number.
I think of how it all could have played out differently because if he wanted to, he would have. But he didn’t.
“We hadn’t told anyone yet,” she says, and my brain does a collectiveahhh, that’s why.“But when I came to get my things, I had a seizure.”
Her expression turns cold as if that’s her brain’s trauma response to the memory of it. Meanwhile, I stop breathing. The shock, devastation, and unfairness of it all hits me with one hard blow. I restrain the therapist in me wanting to come out, and choose to let myself feel it instead. Tears fill my eyes and I grab her hand.
“JP was the last thing I remember before it happened and the first thing I remember when I woke up, strapped to a gurney and getting shoved into an ambulance.” Her voice is almost monotone. I can’t tell if she’s beta-blocking or if she’s numb to telling this story over and over. She lets out a heavy sigh. “Glioblastoma multiforme. That’s fun to say, isn’t it?”
I try to smile at her dark humor, but I can’t. My chin is trembling and I don’t feel like I have a right to cry in her presence. This woman. My sister’s best friend. My JP’s wife. She doesn’t deserve to be going through any of it. I think of the woman I met with long, luscious hair, the brightest smile, and confidence like I’d never seen.
“They gave me nine months a year ago.” She smiles, but for a millisecond, her lip trembles. “So maybe I’ll be one of the few to beat it.”
Silent tears pour down my face. “I hope so.”
“Anyway, let’s look at these books you brought,” she says.
“Right!” I sound overly chipper and sniff hard as I try to wipe my tear-soaked face. “So this one is about this lady who has to lead a company merger with this arrogant prick of a boss and—”
“Oooh, workplace romance?” she asks with a cocked eyebrow.
“No, boss’s brother.”
Her jaw drops. “Gimme.”
I toss one book after another from my canvas bag between us on the couch. She picks up each one examining it. “This is a cute second chance one. Oh, this one is a summery one—a little insta-love but...” I shrug as if it works in certain scenarios. “You know. This is fake dating and straight smut, but oof. And then this one is a marriage of convenience—”
“I can’t do that one,” she says.
I freeze, running my tongue over my teeth. When I selected each of these books, I did it with care. Happily Ever Aftersonly. No trauma. Absolutely nothing sad. I wanted the drama to be miscommunication and not wanting to admit feelings. I steered away from anything that went deeper than surface level problems.
“I didn’t think you guys were—”
She cuts me off again. “Of course. Last time you saw us we were engaged and ready to give this love one last whirl. You had no idea he married me because I had to stop working and couldn’t afford insurance. And let’s face it, no GoFundMe could pay for the mountain of debt he’s going to inherit when I’m gone.”
“Audrey...” my voice trails because my throat is tightening like I’m having an anaphylactic response to the truth of this conversation.
