Radiate (35 page)

Mom pulls her hand back and grabs one of the throw pillows to place in her lap. “We’ve never asked her to. It’s something
she
needs to offer on her own.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! I’m calling her!”

“Absolutely not,” Mom snaps at me. “Stay out of it, Hayley. It’s between your sister and us.”

“No, it’s not,” I say forcefully. “She made you lose your good insurance. She took all of your savings. She’s the one who can make this better for all of us.”

“Let it go,” Mom says. “Besides, I’ve had a couple of interviews for work. Chenowith, White, and Bell needs a legal assistant, and I had a very good conversation with them. I have two more administrative assistant jobs to look into, as well.”

I know the last thing Mom wants to do is go back to work. She’s, like, getting old and stuff... almost fifty years old. She shouldn’t have to compete with younger people in this job market to get work. There’s got to be an easier solution.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to say.

“For what?”

“For getting sick.”

“Stop it,” Mom says. “The Lord never gives us more than we can handle. So, we’ll deal with our financial situation the same way we’ve dealt with everything else.”

“I still feel bad. And I’m mad as hell at Gretchen.”

“So am I, sweetie. But what is a mother to do?”

Since I’m not one, I don’t know the answer to her question.

All I know is there’s got to be some way to make it all right.

***

Tuesday after cheerleader practice, Lora and I drive over to the Burger Barn for chocolate milk shakes. We’re in line at the drive-through when a car behind us beeps. I turn and see it’s Will Hopkins, Lora’s main squeeze, and none other than Daniel sitting in his passenger’s seat.

Lora grabs her cell phone and texts Will.

“What are you saying to him?” I ask.

“I said, ‘Daniel ruined our foursome. Call me later.’”

“That sounds kinky,” I say with a laugh, unable to muster any real emotions.

I haven’t spoken to Daniel since that fateful night in front of the bonfire. He’s passed me in the hall and I saw him at lunch yesterday, but I honestly want nothing to do with him. He really hurt me by flaking out, and I just want to forget all about him and concentrate on getting stronger.

“Here y’all go,” the Burger Barn lady says as she hands us our drinks.

Lora passes my large chocolate shake to me and I stab my straw into it.

“He’s not worth it, you know?” Lora says.

“Daniel? Don’t I know it. You really learn a lot about a person in times of trial.”

She sips her drink and winces from the apparent brain freeze. “And nothing happened to him.”

“That’s what I told him,” I say between sips of my own.

Lora steers back onto Main Street and stops at the traffic light for Highway 223. “Will told me Coach Gaither reamed Daniel a new asshole for missing that catch Friday night. Daniel blamed it on y’all being down on the goal line cheering.”

“What? That’s crap! We were doing our job.”

“That’s what Coach Gaither said.”

I place the straw in my mouth. “Whatever. I’m tired of talking about him.”

For a moment, I listen to the steady click of her turn signal as we wait for the light. The smooth chocolatey goodness cools my throat and my temperature from the long afternoon workout.

Lora steers to the left and then slips a CD into the car stereo. I close my eyes and enjoy the music, the shake, and the friendship. I appreciate my friends—Lora, Gabriel, Ashlee, and the other girls. I’m happy that I have cheerleading and the opportunity to be a part of the football season. I’m grateful that my hair is growing back and that I’m getting strong and stronger each day.

“What’s Ross up to?” I ask Lora.

“He’s leaving for Costa Rica in a few weeks,” she says. “Some trek in the jungle and the rainforest. I swear, I don’t know how he does it all.”

“One day, I’d love to do stuff like he does. He’s fearless.”

Lora smiles. “He’s a great guy. Since my dad died, he’s really stepped in to take care of Mom and me.”

And he’s taken to supporting me, as well.

“You wanna go shopping at Beck’s before I take you home?” Lora asks.

I feel guilty spending $1.89 on a chocolate shake, much less any money on new clothes. “Nah, I need to get home. I’ve got a bunch of homework.” There’s a buzzing next to me. “Your phone’s going off.”

Lora rolls her eyes and reaches for her Android. “Ugh... probably Will upset at me because I blew him off back at the drive-through.”

I snatch it up from the middle console for her and glance at it.

“Lorraine Russell,” I report.

“Mom? She doesn’t usually call me when she’s at work. Put it on speaker.”

Since Lora’s driving, I click the button and say, “Hey, Miss Lorraine, Lora’s driving.”

There’s a moment of silence and then recognition. “I need Lora home immediately.”

“What’s wrong, Mom?” my friend asks.

“Just get here fast.”

Her mom hangs up, and I’m left holding the phone.

“That’s messed up,” she says. “Mom is never like that.”

Instantly, Lora whips her BMW through the parking lot of Captain D’s and heads back in the direction of her house. I don’t even ask her if she’s going to take me home. Something is happening in her world and since I’m her partner, I need to be there for her just as she’s been there for me.

Five minutes—and two run stop signs—later, we pull into Lora’s driveway. Her mom’s car is there, as well as Ross’s hybrid.

We both leap out of the car and head up the walk to the house. I stop her with my hand on her arm. “Do you want me to wait out here?”

She takes my hand in hers and squeezes, giving me the answer.

When we walk through the door of her house, she calls out for her mother.

“Mom? Ross? What’s going on?”

“We’re in the kitchen,” I hear Ross say.

We round the corner from the living room and both stop in our tracks. Miss Lorraine and her brother are sitting at the kitchen table, very somber and quiet. Are they dealing with financial difficulties, too? Certainly not; Ross has money coming out of his ears.

I hang back as Lora crosses the room and takes the chair opposite her mom. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

Miss Lorraine looks at Ross. His head is down and his hands rest on the tabletop. The vein in his neck bulges. He’s very upset—angry, in fact.

“You know how Ross wasn’t feeling well the other night?” Miss Lorraine says. “He went to the doctor yesterday, and we got some very bad news today.”

I swallow hard, knowing I shouldn’t be hearing this.

“What is it?” Lora asks as tears of fear begin to cover her eyes.

“Stop trying to candy-coat it, for God’s sake, Lorraine.” Ross glares forward, seething. “I’ve been diagnosed with a very advanced stage of fucking leukemia.”

I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish that He didn’t trust me so much.

—Mother Teresa

I stand frozen as the words leave Ross’s mouth.

It’s the last thing I expect him to say.

Leukemia?

The simple definition is cancer of the blood, although there’s nothing simple about the disease. I remember from physiology class that it can get into the bone marrow and can also make you anemic. People have been known to lose liver function because of it, too, not to mention their life. How I remember these scholastic details at a time like this is beyond me, but I know the road ahead for Ross is not going to be an easy one.

“How? When?” Lora manages to ask.

Ross’s eyes are unmoving as he stares ahead at the coffee mug Miss Lorraine set in front of him. A low growl resonates from his chest. “I don’t have time for this shit. We’ve just taken Game On public, and the investors expect a certain level of dedication, time, and travel on my part. To be out there upholding the image of the company and to expand into other markets in the south.”

Lora stammers again. “But—but—but how did you
get
this? You’re, like, in better physical shape than anyone I’ve ever known. You don’t smoke or drink or do drugs or eat fast food or anything like that. You never get the flu or anything. You’ve got super immunity.”

He snorts. “Lotta good all that does me now.”

Lora won’t let up. “You’re not supposed to get sick.”

I wasn’t supposed to get sick, either. Cancer doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care. It doesn’t give a shit who it attacks and when. It targets young and old alike. It preys on politicians, movie stars, sports figures, housewives, grandmothers, garbage men, accountants, high school cheerleaders, and even CEOs of companies.

He puts his head in his hands. “My life is over.”

“No, it’s not!” Miss Lorraine fusses at him.

“It might as well be,” Ross says with a resigned sigh. Bitterness cascades off him like a tidal wave battering the shore to smithereens. “The signs were there and I didn’t pay attention to them. I’ve been so busy and on the go. I didn’t know... fatigue, pain in my ribs, bruises on my arms and legs for no reason, loss of appetite.”

I remember the story Gabriel told me about the cheerleader at his old school who killed herself over the thought of being sick. And now, Ross Scott, someone I really admire and look up to, is copping the same attitude. Only, he’s a grown man and should know better. Right? Aren’t adults supposed to handle this kind of stuff better than a kid? Maybe no one knows how to handle this. But I feel I need to speak up. To help.

I don’t know, though. I don’t know if it’s my place.

“I haven’t been feeling... right,” Ross continues.

Miss Lorraine speaks up. “I made him go to the doctor and get some blood work done.”

I watch as Ross lifts his head toward his sister. “I’d rather have not ever known.”

“That’s ludicrous,” Lora shouts out. “And what? Not gotten treated? You’ve found it now and the doctors can take care of it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ross snaps. “It’s
acute
leukemia. My white blood cells don’t work anymore. Every breath I take, the leukemia cells are rapidly taking over. I’m completely fucked!”

Miss Lorraine is horrified. “Ross! Stop that. You don’t know what this means yet.”

The usually confident and calm Ross Scott pivots his head in her direction. “I most certainly do. It means I don’t have very long. Everything I planned for is over. Everything I dreamed about doing . . .” He trails off.

Lora bursts into tears, and her mother moves to comfort her.

“You can’t have that attitude, Ross,” I finally say firmly, knowing I’m overstepping my boundaries.

His normally soft eyes slant. “Can’t I? My entire career is based on sports, adventure, and convincing others to take risks and accept challenges. I can’t do that from a hospital room hooked up to machines. I can’t be the spokesperson of Game On when I’m getting chemo and radiation.” His eyes stare off for a moment. “It’s not only about my career and taking a hike—it’s the inevitability of this outcome. Only five fucking percent actually beat this disease. Five!”

Miss Lorraine reaches out. “Yes, dear, but you can be among that five percent.”

“Yeah, Uncle Ross. No one fights like you.”

“Statistics are just that,” I say. “Numbers on a piece of paper. You’re a real human being who can beat the odds.”

“You have to try, Uncle Ross,” Lora begs.

“You do, Ross,” his sister adds.

“I thought I couldn’t be a cheerleader. But I’m doing it.”

He’s on his feet, and I’m afraid he’s going to take his frustration out on me. “This is the real world! This isn’t some high school pastime, Hayley. This is my life!”

I recoil as his anger smacks me down.

“Ross, do sit down, dear,” Miss Lorraine says, trying to rein him in. “Hayley, he doesn’t mean anything against you. We all know what you’ve been through.”

“Right,” I say quietly, knowing I have to get this out. “But you can’t have a negative attitude and be all ‘woe is me’ and stuff. That’s the worst way to be. It means you’re going to let the cancer win. You have to fight this, Ross.”

He shoves his hands through his hair and lets out another sigh. “It’s hard to fight something I didn’t even know I had. It’s
acute
leukemia, which means it could already have spread to my organs. What’s the point in getting chemo and radiation, only to go into remission and then hope that the doctors can figure something out?”

“You have to fight it,” I repeat. “Like I did.”

Ross’s smile is one of frustration. “You’re just a kid, Hayley. You’ve got the rest of your life ahead of you. Me, I’ve got an investor’s meeting next Thursday in Chicago. I’ve got a board of directors to report to. I’ve got a mortgage and car payment. You’ve got homework and football games and school dances. It’s not the same thing. I have to take a leave of absence from the company I created so I can go lie in a hospital and have chemicals pumped into my body.”

I flatten my lips together, not buying his argument at all. “Just like what I went through this summer.”

“Listen to her, Uncle Ross. She knows what she’s talking about,” Lora begs. “You can’t get all pissed about this. You have to fight it. People do beat leukemia.”

He sneers. “Do you know that in the year 2000, two hundred and fifty-six thousand people—children and adults—came down with leukemia? Do you also know that two hundred and nine thousand of them died? That’s eighty percent. Eighty percent!”

“That’s not today, Ross. Statistics change,” Miss Lorraine says. “Your own doctor said they can get you into treatment and get you on the road to remission.”

I look at my partner’s uncle, my friend. This is the man who so unselfishly arranged for my cheerleading squad to drive three hours to Birmingham to visit me in the hospital and cheer me up. This is the man who gave me protein bars and shakes from his store to help me with my own recovery and rehabilitation. He’s only in his midthirties, yet looking at him now, he suddenly seems so much older—aged from his diagnosis and weary over what to do next.