Page 60 of Part of Forever
I nod. “Just a little lightheaded, probably from all the excitement of the morning. I also haven’t had anything to eat yet.”
“Okay,” he says, but I know he doesn’t believe me. I don’t even believe me. But I’m fine, it was just one tumor. I’m clear.
“I’m really okay.” I give him a hug. “Was Mom really mad?”
“I thought she was going to be that dark shade of purple forever. I don’t know if she was more mad about the idea that the two of you might have, well, ya know, or the fact that you had gone off without telling her. I know she was mad, but I think she was scared.”
“I know.”
“And we almost lost you once before, but this time...” Nathan trails off. This time is different, and we all know it.
“This time I just had a tumor,” I try to say brightly. “And I’m gonna be fine. No one is almost losing me, and I’m not having sex, so my dance career isn’t on the line. Plus, if I was, there is this thing called birth control.” Nathan shudders at this information. “I am sorry for freaking everyone out. I’ll apologize again to Mom. And not ask for my phone back until next week.”
“You can live without social media for a week,” Nathan says, rolling his eyes.
“But I won’t be able to text Tucker.”
“You don’t have to live in isolation. You’ll still see him at school, and all day today, because now, thanks to you, we’re watching movies all day. Grace and I did have other plans.”
“She seemed up for a movie day.”
“I think she’s still mad at you for not telling her about the tumor, but I think she wants to forgive you and Disney movies are her love language.” Nathan says it like I’ve asked him to pull out his teeth one by one. “But I’m glad she knows. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks as I sink onto the bed a little more. I need to eat something. Last night wiped me out.
“She is still mad at me. And don’t baby me, I’m okay, I was just up super late,” I say because I’m exhausted from the long night. “And I probably just need something to eat.”
“This has been hard for me, too,” he says, and he leaves before I have a chance to respond. I sit in the middle of the room, wondering when things got so weird between me and my twin—the person I’ve always been the closest to. I knew things would change a little as we got older, but I feel like there’s a void between us and I want to fix it.
journal entries - present day
May3
Dear Journal,
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About what Lucy said at group therapy and then the conversation I had with my dad, and I guess this is where I’m at:
Things in life happen to all of us and sometimes it really, really sucks. And there is this big God somewhere (at least, I think there is, maybe, but I think there’s some peace I find in believing in that) but He doesn’t always take the pain away from us. I still don’t understand why.
I still don’t understand why I had to get cancer again or why Lucy keeps having to have surgery. I don’t understand why Tucker’s dad is such a loser or why most people don’t want to live by the ocean—okay, they don’t have to come live here, there’s already a ton of people here so…
So, I feel like I’m still in the same spot I was.
Lucy called me the other day and we talked for a little while, and she invited me to come visit her on Sunday next week to chat more about what she shared in therapy. Maybe I’ll get some more answers there.
Okay, now I feel like I should/want to write a letter to him about some things I’ve been thinking about that I just want to share with him.
Love, Rosie
Dear Tucker,
My body still seems so weak, I haven’t been dancing or training like I was before my surgery. I’m still taking it slow, but it’s killing me.
I am really grateful that I only had a tumor because cancer is exhausting. Surgery was exhausting.
But, it’s been 4 months that we’ve been together :)
I’ve never really thought about soulmates or if I believed in them or not. Not even with my parents, but they were definitely meant for each other. Dad loves Mom so much, and while most of the time Mom is stuck in ballet mode, she’s obsessed with Dad, too.
But then—then there’s us.
