Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Of my two sisters, I was closest to her. We were both unmarried, queer artists. Maggie was bi and lived with her girlfriend in an apartment above their gallery in Long Beach. And that was the other reason Dad asked Mags to be the designated driver. She lived two miles away from our parents, while Rach lived in the Bay Area and I lived in West Hollywood.
So my sister’s question was a fair one. What the hell was I doing here? They could make their own coffee and get to St. Joe’s on their own steam. They didn’t need my help.
But…I needed to be here.
My parents were the coolest people I knew. Dad was a lighthearted bear of a man with a sharp wit and a big personality. He was the kind of guy who could talk to anyone anywhere about practically anything. Sports, music, movies, solar eclipses, endangered species…you name it and chances were, he knew something about it. He had the gift of gab and a talent for making people feel like he truly wanted to know them.
But Mom was the rock who made all things possible. She was sunny and optimistic yet grounded in reality. She was the behind-the-scenes magician who nurtured, taught, and disciplined. Dad might ask after an ailing grandparent when he stopped to pet the neighbor’s dog, but Mom was the one who rolled up her sleeves and offered to help.
Everyone adored my folks. They were a complementary unit who led by example and hard work. They were the dream team. I always knew that as long as I had them in my corner, I’d be okay. I’d survived coming out, band issues, and multiple breakups. But I didn’t think I’d make it if my mom didn’t.
Mom furrowed her brow and turned to us with her hand on her hip. “Do you think they need my insurance card? I don’t see it in my purse. Maggie, will you check the desk in the study?”
“You got it.” Maggie set a loving hand over Mom’s but made sure to pinch my bicep on her way out of the room.
“You okay, Ma?” I asked gently.
Her features softened, easing the creases around her eyes. “Yes, of course. I’ll be fine, sweetheart. You know I will be. You didn’t have to come by this morning. I think it’s sweet that you did, but I don’t want you to worry about me. Worry does the devil’s work, you know?”
“Who told you that one?” I huffed.
“That adorable woman who used to do drugs after church. What was her name?”
I snort-laughed. “I have no idea, Ma.”
“Yes, you do. You went to grade school with her. Angela or Annette or…something like that.”
“Angie, I think. I haven’t seen her in years. I can’t believe you remember her. In her defense, she wasn’t exactly smoking crack.”
“No, it was marijuana. Took me right back to high school,” she replied with a hearty chuckle. “And it doesn’t matter who said it first, those are wise words. Fearful thinking is useless. You have to believe the best, or you’ll always be bracing for the worst. That’s no way to live, Tegan.”
“So you’re not worried at all?” I asked in a low voice that came out in a hoarse whisper.
She dropped her purse on the breakfast nook table and came to my side. Mom had bright-red hair, a medium build, and an expressive face. When she was happy, you knew it. Of course, the same worked when she was pissed. And if you were smart, you’d watch the fuck out. At the moment, she looked like a slightly fragile version of herself. Like there was a tiny crack in her armor she was doing her best to hide.
“Yes, I’m a little scared,” she admitted softly. “But nothing bad is going to happen today, T. I can’t worry about tomorrow or next week. Though when I let my mind get to wandering, I think about silly things, like what I’ll look like bald. That’s gonna be a sight.”
Her bubbled laughter invited me to join in, but I just…couldn’t.
“You’ll still be beautiful.” I choked around the ball of emotion in my throat.
She grasped my chin. “Hey, no tears. Please. I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“I’m trying. It’s not easy.”
Mom caressed my cheek lovingly. “Positive thinking, my darling. Five years from now we’ll look back at this time, and we might say it sucked lemons. But we’ll also remember that we found reasons to smile…and make lemonade.”
I rolled my eyes at her corny “Mom-ism,” then smiled. “Why five years?”
“Well, I’ll be cancer-free with new boobs, a healthy head of flaming-red hair, and a new lease on life. Think positive, be positive, and stay positive. We’re going to kick the C-word’s butt, T. So don’t frown or get sad when it feels tough. Lean on your sisters, your friends, and your music and…trust yourself. I’m gonna be okay. You have to believe that.”