“Laney?” I ask.
“I kept mine,” she says. “They are slightly numb but I figured I could always have them removed later, if necessary. But I have ultrasounds every six months.”
“Okay. Let’s do that.”
“Samantha, I realize this is a big step, a huge decision you’re making. But remember one thing. You’re choosing life over your breasts,” Dr. Hastings says.
“I know. I realize that now. This lump has scared me to death.”
“Let’s get you set up with your surgery and reconstruction then.” I’ve opted to have it all done at the same time.
Again, relief and worry flood me. The logical part of my brain knows this is the right thing to do, but in actuality, I’m scared shitless to go through with it. My sister senses my fear and grabs my hand. “It’s going to be all right. You’re going to be all right, Sam.” I squeeze her hand back.
We walk out and head to the surgery scheduling office with Dr. Hastings. He gives the admin all the information so she can get things started. When we leave, I have an appointment with Dr. Wilson, the plastic surgeon, on Monday and my surgery is set for a week from today.
Before we go to the car, I excuse myself to use the restroom. While there, I send Ben another text.
Me: Please call me. I have news. I’m leaving my appointment and I have surgery scheduled in one week.
Optimistically, I text him the time and place of my surgery.
On the way home, I ask my sister, “Laney, what do you like best about your new boobs?”
“The thing I like about them the most is I don’t think they’re going to kill me like my old ones were going to.”
I wake in a pool of my own despair to the sound of my front door unlocking. For a second, I think it’s Sam coming back to me, only the sound of Mom’s voice sending me scrambling to hide the evidence of my rock bottom.
“Benjamin.”
She moves into the kitchen and hasn’t caught sight of me yet. I slide the last empty bottle under the couch before I say, “Mom, what are you doing here?”
My voice, catching her off guard, makes her jump out her skin.
“There you are.” She sets a heavy bag on the counter and heads my way. “Your dad said you called out sick. I brought some food including some homemade soup.”
She bends down and lays her cool hand on my forehead like I’m still a kid.
“Mom,” I say shaking her hand away. “You can’t just show up. What if I had someone over?”
Someone? Is that how it is now? I ask myself.
“You look like hell, Benjie. And I don’t see anyone here. Is Sam coming over to take care of you?”
The question burns in my chest like a motherfucker. I shake my head stiffly.
“Well, then you need me,” she declares, getting back to her feet. “So what’s happened now?”
I can hear the disappointment in her voice. She knows I fucked up.
“Nothing, but I need my key back.”
She spins around, a frown wrinkling her forehead.
“Ben,” she pleads.
I shake my head again. “You and Dad can’t just show up when you want. I’m a grown man.”
When I’d bought this place, giving my parents a key considering I had been a bachelor seemed like a good idea. But Dad making himself at home several weeks ago and Mom showing up unannounced has changed that idea to a bad one.
I hold out my hand. She sighs and fishes in her pocket to produce a key she lays in my palm. Then she turns and sees the TV screen frozen with Drew’s teenage face along with mine.
Her face softens as she draws her own conclusion. “Is that what this is all about?”
There’s no way to answer without spilling my guts, which I have no intentions of doing.
“The two of you were inseparable. He was the brother you didn’t have. We all miss him, Ben. Have you considered talking to someone?”
I don’t look to see the video Mom made for our high school graduation party. It’s the scene with Drew and me and our arms slung over one another looking like we’re ready to conqueror the world, frozen in time.
“Mom, I don’t want to talk about this. Thanks for the food. I need to get up and hit the shower.”
She kneels back down and pushes hair out of my face. “Oh, Benjie, promise me you’ll at least eat something.”
I nod and she bends to kiss my forehead. And as much as it makes me feels like a child, there is comfort in her touch.
“You should call your sister. She’s bound to show up if you don’t,” she says while getting to her feet. Good thing Jenna doesn’t have a key. “I’ll put away the food, then I’ll leave.”
“Before you go, what day is it?”
She’s startled by my question, but quickly smoothes away her distress, no doubt putting together how far gone I am.