Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
After I clean off in the outside shower, I head into my bedroom, put on some clean clothes, and make my way into the kitchen. When I bypass the mirror in the hallway, I have to do a double take.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I look at myself. The bags under my eyes are so dark, I look like I have two black eyes. Did Gill not notice, or did he just not care? Despite being out in the sun for over an hour, I’m as pale as a ghost. Nope, strike that. My eyes are bloodshot, so I’m definitely a vampire. It’s not even Halloween and my costume is ready.
Great. There is no way I can meet with Elle looking like this. She’ll know right away something’s wrong, and I have no intentions of ever telling her what’s going on. I don’t want her pity and that’s exactly what she’ll give me.
I finally make my way into the kitchen and stare into the empty refrigerator. Elle stopped sending groceries about two weeks ago. Can’t say I blame her. Why spend money on someone who doesn’t want you? The thing is, I want her, but not in the way she can offer. I need more from her than she’s capable of giving.
The doorbell sounds and I groan. I hope it’s Instacart, but it’s very unlikely, and unless I order my own food, I’m not eating any time soon. Being single is for the birds. I open the door and my jaw hits the floor.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um . . . nothing. What are you doing here?”
“There’s something wrong, I can see it in your face.” My mother steps in and cups my cheek. “A mother knows things,” she says. “I had a feeling something was wrong and knew I needed to come. Now, tell me.”
I say nothing as she lets herself in. She tugs an extra-large suitcase behind her. Great, she’s planning on staying. It’s a good thing Elle isn’t here because there’s no way in hell, she’d let my mom stay here longer than a day or two. They get along, but my mom has a different view of the Jameses, and it’s not favorable.
“Please, come in,” I mutter as I close the door.
“Doesn’t Elle ever clean?”
This is why I don’t do much with my mother. She’s snide and doesn’t treat Elle with much respect.
“It’s not Elle’s job to clean the house.”
“Well, doesn’t she hire someone?”
My head goes back and forth slowly. Thankfully, she can’t see me because she’s facing the couch.
“Where do I put my stuff?”
“Um, third bedroom on the right.”
“It’s clean, right?”
Cleaner than anything you live in. “Sure.”
My mom disappears down the hall. I can hear her grumbling about something, but I’m too tired to care. She can’t stay here; even though Elle’s not here, my mom can’t be here. She’s going to end up saying something to piss me off and I don’t have the energy to deal with her right now.
“So, where is the princess?”
“Work, I guess.”
“What do you mean, ‘you guess?’” She’s not looking at me but rummaging through the stack of mail on my coffee table. Damn, she’s nosy. “What’s this?” She holds up the appointment card for my oncologist appointment tomorrow.
“It’s nothing.” I try to take it away, but she moves it to her other hand and out of my reach.
“I’m not dumb, Benjamin. I know what oncology means. This has your name on it. Why?”
I shrug and look at her. “Because I have testicular cancer and have to meet with the oncologist tomorrow to find out what my options are.”
Telling my mom is one of the biggest mistakes of my life. No, that’s not entirely true. I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes recently, and this one is definitely moving to the stop of the list. I suppose I should be happy I have some support, but she hovers. She’s nitpicky and asking questions I don’t have the answers to or care to know. The why, how, when, and anything else she can think of just keep coming and I need her to be quiet.
Why this doctor and not this one?
Why this clinic?
How did you get cancer?
When will this go away?
Did I read the reviews on the clinic? On the doctor?
People in the waiting room look annoyed and I don’t blame them. “Mom, please stop.”
“I have questions. I’m allowed to ask them.”
“You are, but not here.”
She huffs and flips through one of the twenty magazines she bought in the gift shop. Well, the ones she made me pay for. Nothing like piling a bunch of things on top of the counter and then looking at your son expectedly. What a great feeling.
John walks into the waiting room and my mood changes. I’m happy to see him. I know we’ve just met but I feel like he’s my only advocate right now. I introduce him to my mom, and he sits down next to me.