Page 69 of Love Beyond Repair
Lots of doctors and nurses stride around looking important, rushing from room to room. I approach the desk. A kind looking woman sits on the other side. She’s probably in her mid-forties, but is so short, I notice she has two cushions to help her gain a bit of height.
Smiling, she takes my name and introduces herself as Sandra. She’s the patient coordinator for the center. If I have any questions, just ask. I take a seat and wait for my name to be called.
Scrolling aimlessly through my phone, looking at pictures of Liam, I can’t help but tear up. He’s my world, and, if this is serious, I have no idea how we will cope. Part of me is relieved that Ben has come into his life, but another part is resentful of any time with Liam he steals.
“Rebecca Corrigan,” the doctor calls. It takes me a minute to realize it is me he’s looking for. No one calls me Rebecca except my parents, and since Liam was born, our contact is limited.
They believed I shouldn’t have continued with the pregnancy. It wasn’t right to bring a child into a single-parent household. We’ve never truly moved past it. How do you forgive someone for wishing your son away?
I stand and follow the doctor into the room, my heart racing. He’s an older gentleman, his hairline receding, andhe sports a gray mustache. Round face, rosy cheeks, and a warm smile describe him perfectly. He immediately puts me at ease.
“Please take a seat, Mrs. Corrigan,” he says, gesturing to a black leather sofa.
I nod, then follow his instructions.
“It’s Miss, actually. I’m not married.” I’ve no idea why I correct him. This happens all the time, and it never bothers me. Names have become more important recently. Ben asked me to consider adding his name to Liam’s birth certificate.
Liam Corrigan Jones.I’m not sure how I feel about that. He hasn’t pushed, but it’s a monumental step.
The doctor introduces himself as Doctor Roy. He wasn’t who I met previously, but seemingly, he’s been assigned my case file.
“Do you live on your own?” he asks, fishing for information. I shake my head, and he relaxes.
“No, I have a son. He’s seven.”
The doctor’s mouth turns to a grim line but loosens almost automatically as if he caught himself making a face he didn’t want to. I see him steel himself. Then, he starts to speak.
“I’m sorry to tell you, Miss Corrigan, the lump on your breast is cancerous. As far as we can tell, it’s not spread further, but you’ll require treatment.”
He lets me take in the diagnosis before continuing. Despite expecting it, my shock is plain to see. He leans forward and squeezes my hand.
“We’ll do everything we can to beat this.” His voice is strong as he speaks. Optimistic. “We’ve caught this in time. You fight from now.”
The dam breaks, and I burst into tears. He stands and presses a buzzer. Two nurses appear at the door.
“Can you please support Miss Corrigan? Give her a cup of tea. I’ll come back in half an hour to go through the treatment plan.”
The nurses both nod, and Doctor Roy leaves, away to distribute more terrible news to someone else, no doubt.
Upon leaving the hospital, I have a new wave of determination. I look for the new car I treated myself to a few weeks ago. It’s a bright-red MINI Cooper, something I wanted for years.
Now that Ben is involved in Liam’s life, there’s a little more breathing room. My teacher’s salary is adequate. We have a comfortable life, but it’s been a benefit to have more disposable income. I was able to buy him new trainers the other week, designer ones, something I’d never have splashed out on before.
I toss my bag into the trunk and climb into the driver’s seat. The past hour was brutal discussing my treatment, all the possible outcomes, good and bad. I’m terrified. Terrified of death. Terrified of leaving Liam motherlessso young. Of missing school pickups, scraped knees, and bedtime songs. Of not seeing who Liam becomes.
I decide to block it all out by turning up the radio full blast and opening the windows, cruising through the traffic toward home with music filling the streets and the wind whipping my hair around my face.
They told me they’ll email me with my date for surgery to remove the lump. Afterwards, I need to attend the clinic every day for a week. The operation can be done with only one overnight stay, which means I can arrange for Ben to have Liam. No one needs to know. I can just stay out of everyone’s way while I recover. Telling my friends and family doesn’t seem like an option. I want to keep this to myself.
***
It’s a Monday morning, and I was told to be at the clinic by eight. Ben has Liam for the next few days. I lied, saying there was a training course for work.
The waiting room is empty except for one woman sitting, reading a book. She’s wearing thick, dark glasses, lost in the words on the page. I sit across from her, and she glances up. She’s in her forties, curvy with a mass of curly blonde hair. Her huge eyes look me over, then she smiles with bright-red lips.
“That bastardCgot you, too, huh?” She winks. “What bit of you are they cutting off?” I laugh at the unexpected joke, then immediately relax.
Katie Clark is an erotic romance author, childless and divorced. This is her third rumble with the disease. We chat about ourselves for a while. She’s extremely easy to talk to, and I find myself starting to feel better. The nurse comes and calls her name. She toddles off behind her in her tall, dark heels.
