“Liar. I know when you’re hiding something.”
Ben steps into the conversation. “I shared something with her that I probably shouldn’t have.”
“What?”
“Cate, Drew asked me not to say anything.” Ben looks really uncomfortable.
“What is it?”
“You know, this puts me in a fucked up position. Me and my damn big mouth.”
“Is this something I should know?” I ask.
Ben takes a huge breath. When he does my gut twists. This is bad. “If I tell you, I betray my best friend’s confidence. And where does that leave me or what does that say about me?”
“Ben, Drew has cancer. I need to know if it’s something that has to do with his health. I love him more than my own life. Can you try to see past what you just told me? I won’t tell him. I just need to know.”
My face is wet again from tears. Jenna has her arm around me and says, “Just tell her, Ben. What more can it do?”
He rubs his neck. “Yeah, okay. He’s really scared about all of this, Cate. More so than he’s telling you. He doesn’t want you to know that. The issue is the fact that the information on treating this type of cancer in adults is so varied. He told me if he were fourteen, he’d feel much better about the diagnosis. The other thing is the location of the cancer. The prognosis is better when it occurs in the limbs, specifically in the legs. Not the ribs. That’s what else is bothering him. I think the fact that he’s a doctor makes it so much worse.”
When I really sob, Ben says, “And this is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
“She needs to know this, Ben. She needs to be there one hundred percent for Drew.”
I hate that Drew feels he can’t tell me these things. I’m supposed to be the one he can lean on. I’m supposed to be the one he runs to. Not Ben or his parents. I want to scream, cry, kick, yell. Something, anything to release my emotions.
“It’s just not fair.”
“Nothing’s fair. You should’ve learned that by now,” Jenna says.
“Jenna, don’t be so harsh,” Ben says.
Jenna looks chastised. But she’s right. Nothing is fair in life.
“UGGGGH! Of anyone, it should’ve been me. Drew … he’s so good and kind.” And that’s when it hits me. There’s a good chance he’s not going to make it. It’s the old saying—only the good die young that comes to mind and Drew is the best there is.
My face must reflect my thoughts because both Jenna and Ben say, “What is it?”
Jenna adds, “You’ve turned gray.”
In an expressionless voice, I say, “He may not make it.”
Jenna gasps. “How can you say such a thing?”
Ben doesn’t speak.
“Only the good die young, Jenna.”
“And you’re going to let a stupid saying dictate Drew’s life expectancy?”
“No, I’m letting the cancer do that.”
“You can’t! You have to fight it!”
The life has been sucked out of me. “I wish it were me. I wish I were the one sick, instead of him. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s never done a bad thing in his life.” When they say your heart breaks, whoever “they” is doesn’t have a clue what they’re talking about. Broken isn’t close. Shattered—no cigar. Splintered—nothing doing. Pulverized—where every tiny part is crushed beyond recognition—that’s about how it feels. All the bits of my heart couldn’t possibly be put back together because they are completely annihilated.
Jenna hugs me and whispers, “It’s not you, Cate. It’s not you. And you have to hold it together for him.”
“You have to believe in miracles, Cate. Sometimes they do happen,” Ben says.
The only thing I can do right now is dump more tears on my friends. How can life turn around so fast? One minute I’m on top of the world and the next, I’m at the bottom of the sea.
Time. I need to cherish it. A few short months ago I was hoping the year would fly so Drew and I could get married, but now all I want to do is freeze it. Maybe even turn it back to before he got hit in the ribs.
Ben’s arm goes around me now and says, “Hey, we’re here with you. If there’s ever anything you need, you let one of us know.”
“Yeah. Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”
I FIND MYSELF STRAIGHTENING ANDY’S room instead of going to the kitchen where the smell of bacon beckons me. Mitch gave me hell last night in front of Andy and even though he says everything’s cool, we are alone now. He may have more he wants to say.
Finally, I walk out in a t-shirt clearly too big for me and Andy’s boxers rolled at the waist so they don’t fall down. I decide to hold my head high and stiffen my spine.
“There she is. Princess Cate.”
I’m not sure what to make of his words, so I just ask, “What are you making?”
I lean over the counter and watch him cook what I think is either the world’s thinnest pancake or a crepe.
“Crepes.”
“Wow,” I say out loud. “You can cook?”
He nods.