Page 81 of Quiet Chaos

While Sky packs the foods she has made, snacks, and other items, I load the truck. On my way back inside, I knock over Sky’s purse. The contents scatter on the floor. I collect the papers, and before I put them in her purse, I stop in my tracks. My breath catches in my throat. As if it were a neon sign, I read the word cancer. My legs coast toward the table while I read the front of the pamphlet. I lower in slow motion into a chair.

This must be for someone else. I mean, Sky would have said something if she was sick. My hand scrubs my goatee. It can’t happen again. Flashbacks of my mom in the hospital. Her frail body lost in the bed. Her voice was too weak for more than a breath or two.

“Come here, Cade.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. I walk to her side, gripping the bed rail, but she takes my hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier about how sick I was, but I thought I’d get better.”

It’s hard to see her with all the tears bubbling in my eyes. I’m crying, hiccupping, and trying to catch my breath.

My mom strokes the top of my hand. “Look at me, Cade.” I take a moment to get my breathing under control before I do as she says. “You’re going to be fine. You’re strong.” I’m panting, and her words only incite more tears. “Listen to me. I might not be here, but I’m going to be watching over you and your dad.”

I shake my head to silence her. To stop her from saying goodbye.

“You’ve made me so proud, Cade. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.” She pauses, wincing from pain. “You’ve brought me such joy. I wouldn’t trade eleven years with you for a lifetime without.” She gasps for more breath. Takes a few intakes as she tenses. “Having you in my life made it complete.” She brings my hand up to her chapped lips and kisses it. “Promise me you’ll take good care of your dad. You’re both going to need each other.” With her other bony hand, black and blue from the IV, she covers mine. “I love you, Cade. Please know that every second spent with you was pure happiness. I loved you the moment I saw you, and I will love you beyond death.”

Unable to handle it anymore, I walk out of the room as she continues to call my name. My hands rub up and down my arms, fighting my hysteria until I find myself at the chapel. I sit in a pew, rocking back and forth, my cries echoing in this small chamber. I pray to God to save her. To keep her with dad and I because she is the glue to our family. I can’t live without my mom. She means everything to me. After some more begging to God, I walk out and head back to the room. But something haschanged. There’s no more beeping from the monitors. No more doctors and nurses filing in and out. Only my dad’s wails as he lays across my mother. I’m too late. She’s gone. I never said I love you. Or goodbye.

With my head down, I grab my T-shirt at the memory and for more air. I swallow down the rising fear, the anxiousness, because this isn’t for Sky. She picked it up for someone else. She wouldn’t keep something like this from me. We’re in a good place.

Down to my bones, I know my words come from denial. Is this punishment for what I did to Christoff? As if my mother’s death wasn’t enough, is God taking Sky from me because he thinks I don’t deserve her?Fuck that!I deserve her.

Head hanging downward, her tiny bare feet with pink nail polish come into view. Holding the pamphlet, I glance up at her, and she verifies my darkest fear. Her eyes widen when I meet them, mouth opens and closes, and she takes a mouthful of air.

“What is this, Sky?”

She kneels between my legs. “It’s nothing yet.”

My face scrunches up. “What does that even mean?”

“It means so far there’s nothing to worry about.”

I toss the pamphlet back to the floor. “When are we supposed to worry?”

She places her hands on my knees and gives a light squeeze. “I’ll receive the results in a week or so.”

I evade her eyes, nod, and ask, “So theroutine tests,” —my gaze back on her as I emphasize routine tests— “those are the test results we’re waiting for?”

Sky drops her head and hands toward her lap.

My hand slides through my hair, pulling it tight before letting it fall to the sides as I stand.

In a deep, pain-filled tone, I say, “You lied to me.”

Her head shoots up as she rises. “I didn’t. I’m getting those tests back.”

“Were they routine?”

Sky fidgets with her hands, something she does when she’s nervous. “Kind of.”

I can’t help it, even though it’s not in my nature to yell. The pain of the past has intertwined with her lying.

“Don’t fucking play games, Sky,” The roar of my voice makes her jump.

She reaches for my hand, but she falls back. “Cade, I don’t want you to worry.”

I lock my sights on her. “Worry? How can I worry when you’ve kept this a secret?”

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