Page 62 of Rebel Romeo

I’d known since the moment Mallory first called. I’d known this was coming even before he was sick. I spent my childhood watching him smoke two packs a day, sometimes more. I’d come home and lecture him about what we learned about smoking in school.

I knew this day would come.

I’d just hoped it wouldn’t be today.

His declaration knocks the wind out of me like a punch in the diaphragm. Despite the tear that slips down my cheek and the cold hand gripping my lungs, I manage to ask, “What stage?”

“Four.”

Four.

Stage four lung cancer.

“How much… Is there any… I mean, what’s the protocol?” I’m not exactly sure how to ask what I want to ask. Because we all know what stage four means. Any treatment is delaying the inevitable. And as the owner of a dive bar in town, my parents didn’t have the best health insurance.

“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t go through all that rigamarole. But you know your mother and sister. They need to believe in miracles. But you and me, Sprout. We’re the realists. So while they’re praying for miracles, I need you to be my rock. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah, Daddy. I can do that,” I whisper.

“You’ve always been the strong one. If I didn’t say it enough, I’m sorry.”

If he didn’t say it enough? He didn’t say it ever.

Why does it always have to take life or death situations for people to come around? Why do we only make reparations and seek out the time to mend fences when we realize there’s so little left?

Dad says a couple more things, but I’m numb and I barely hear them. I hang up and stare at the call log. Three minutes and forty two seconds. The whole conversation lasted less than four minutes. Less than four minutes to turn my entire world upside down.

The theater around me starts to fade to black, a tunnel of pinpricks closing in on me.

“Katherine?”

Holden’s voice sounds distant. Miles away. My breaths come in short, shallow gulps, like I’m barely able fill my lungs with my inhale.

“Katherine? Kate, are you okay?”

I gulp in the air, but it’s like I’m drowning. I’m drowning on oxygen that I can’t seem to get into my airway. I shake my head. “Can’t… breathe…” I press my palm against my sternum to where my heart slams against my ribs like a caged wild animal thrashing to escape.

“Katherine, look at me.” Holden’s palms gently cup my jaw and even though I know he’s here in front of me, he still feels so far away.

Far away and not mine.

He’s not mine to seek comfort from.

These aren’t my hands to hold.

Not my eyes to gaze into.

Not my arms to curl into.

I shake my head as another tear spills down my cheek.

“Lean against the wall,” he demands. The cool plaster is smooth against my back and I drop my head to it and close my eyes. “It’s just you and me, Katherine,” Holden continues to whisper. “It’s you and me and above us is a giant bubble taking us away. Can you feel it?”

A shaky breath trembles inside me, but I manage to nod.

“Give your weight to the bubble. Starting at your toes let every muscle in your body relax against the elasticity of the bubble. Let it take your stress. Let it take your stress and breathe. In, two, three, four… Hold, two, three, four… Out, two, three, four.”

I’m not sure how long we’re standing there with me leaning on the wall and Holden whispering to me. But when I open my eyes again, he’s there in front of me, arms wrapped tightly around me. Mouth pressed to the shell of my ear.

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