“I thought it would be better to wait until I knew exactly how long I had before I told you both. And now, well, now I know. My doctors think I have about eight months left. Maybe a year if I carry on with my treatment. I don’t know if I can—”
I burst into tears, unable to stop myself. No sound comes out of my mouth, but I’m overtaken by the powerful wave of sorrow that smashes into me. Jo’s face crumples into a mask of pain and hurt. She takes my hand in hers, rubbing her fingers up and down over mine. “Oh, sweet girl. Sweet girl, come here.” I collapse against her, crying into her shirt. She smells like disinfectant and laundry detergent. Slowly brushing my hair, she whispers soothing things to me as I lean against her, wondering how I never noticed how the skin of her hands is so pale, almost translucent, thin like a butterfly’s wing, and how she always seems like she’s about to pass out from exhaustion.
“I’m sorry, Coralie. I really can’t tell you how sorry I am. I really had hoped to be at your wedding. To watch you marry my son. I wanted to help you when you had your first baby with him. I wanted—” Her voice catches in her throat, and she can’t speak for a second. “I had wanted to see the…wonderful life you two build for yourselves. But I have this feeling that…I’ll get to see it somehow. Oh god, I’m sorry. Shh, come on, now.” She jostles me in her arms, and I’m awash with this terrible sense of injustice.
Never once since my mother died have I felt resentment toward her. Not in a real or meaningful way. I’ve been endlessly sad that she hasn’t been around, but I’ve never hated her for what she chose to do. She couldn’t take it anymore, and I’ve always understood that. Right now, I’m so furious with her, though.
She drove herself off a bridge, decided to opt out of her life and say goodbye to everyone. She gave back the gift of her life. And now Jo, the woman who has essentially treated me like her daughter since I met her, is telling me she’s dying and she’s hurting because she won’t get to be around for all of the monumental events in my life. It hurts. It hurts so fucking badly, I don’t know how I’ll ever survive it.
“Why?” I ask. “What is it? Why isn’t there anything they can do?” The fact that Jo is a doctor makes this ten million times worse. It seems as though there should be something the specialists at the hospital can do for one of their own. I know this is a ridiculous thought, the medical practitioners hold off on the really good treatments for people that they like, but it still runs through my head.
“Hodgkin’s Lymphoma,” Jo says softly. It can be hard to detect in its initial stages. The cancer had spread all over the place before anyone knew. It’s no one’s fault, Coralie. No one is to blame. It’s just…life. Part of life is dying, right? I’m just going on that particular journey a little sooner than I’d planned.”
I feel a strangled sob trying to work it’s way up and out of my throat. I have to stop myself from breathing in order to prevent myself from howling and waking up Callan. “When are you going to tell him? When?”
“In a minute. After you leave,” Jo says. “I hope you’ll forgive me for laying this on your shoulders before his, but he’s going to need you now, Coralie. He’s strong and he’s brave, my beautiful, wonderful son, but he’s not going to handle this well. Do you…do you think you can be there for him when…he needs you?” She can hardly speak. I can barely see through my tears. Together, we’re a complete mess. I nod, trying to choke back the pain and the fear I’m feeling as Jo squeezes me to her.
“You’re a good girl, Coralie. You’re a sweet soul. I’m going to hate to have to say goodbye.”
I can’t take it anymore. I tear myself from her arms and run out of the house before I totally lose it. Outside, light rain has started to fall, speckling the sidewalk and the pathway up to my house. A strange, eerie light has settled over everything, purple and blue, angry, like the dawn is aching for Jo, and for me, and soon for Callan.
I climb the downpipe that brackets my bedroom, clamber through the open window and I throw myself into my bed, trying not to make a sound as I cry. Two hours later, I’m creeping out of the house, hoping not to wake my father as I leave for school.
Callan isn’t waiting two blocks away for me like he usually is.
He doesn’t come to school for three days.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CORALIE
Like You Love Me, Too
THEN