Page 84 of The Cannon
“I’ll call Mom and Dad and tell them to keep it to themselves until you give me the go ahead,” Brick says.
He walks out, leaving Bristol and I to ourselves. Like two lone survivors of a terrorist attack. We just hold on to each other and cry.
“It’s going to be alright. I’m sure of it.”
But I know she’s never been so unsure of anything. I begin to gather my thoughts.
“I want you to call Jude as soon as you think the family is up. Let him know his running away saved my life. Tell him it’s a secret he needs to keep, and I’ll call him as soon as the surgery is over. I want him to come visit me.”
Her nodding head nestled in my neck is Bristol’s only answer.
Life is strange. Rarely have I been able to count on consistency. Not in my personal life and not in my professional life. The one thing that reoccurs is the unknown.
Having to adapt is a theme for me. I’m good at it by now, but this twist puts my talent to the test. Can I cope? What if it’s the worst? How will I bear the realization that my dream of making a family with Bristol will never come true?
The picture of us growing old together was so clear in my mind. There was never a doubt. My confidence in that coming true was sharp.
And what of the other quiet fantasy that’s been getting louder in my head? The one that included Jude. Oh God.
* * *
“I think he’s waking up.”
I hear Bristol speak from somewhere far away. My eyes try opening, but it’s as if weights are holding them shut.
“Sawyer. Sawyer. Wake up, baby.”
A warm strong hand grasps my left arm. Can’t feel anything on my right one.
“Brother, wake the hell up so we can give you the good news.”
I recognize that voice. Atticus. Good news? With the might of Hercules I open my eyes.
“Hey,” I slur the greeting.
“There he is!” Brick says, wiggling my covered foot.
Bristol leans over to kiss my forehead. And cheek. And lips. That one I was able to return.
“Did someone say good news?”
Bristol’s face is beaming with happiness and it’s slowly sinking in.
“I’m going to be okay?”
“Yes, baby! They removed the tumor in its entirety. There are clear margins all around. The cancer is gone.”
A smile is all I can muster. But if they could feel the joy in my heart and the sense of rebirth, they’d know how relieved I am. “That’s great. Jesus.”
“Jesus is right. You had the entire congregation praying for you. Grandma Birdie enlisted her prayer circle and Mom had her yoga class meditating for peace in your heart and mind,” Bristol says.
“Namaste,” I say with a weak chuckle.
She kisses me a dozen times more.
“My breath isn’t good. Water.” I point to the plastic cup on the side table.
She puts the straw to my lips. “I’m just so happy. Nothing else matters.”
