Page 23 of Sweet Nothings

But none of it is true.

The world falls silent. Painstakingly silent.

I don’t hear my shallow, ragged breaths. I don’t hear Roe’s uncontrollable sobs climbing from her chest.

There’s only silence. Seconds pass before I’m able to hear again.

“What?” I manage to ask. “What do you mean you have cancer?”

“I went to the doctor a few weeks ago.” She’s sniffing as she wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “My back had been hurting and I couldn’t think of anything that might have caused it. After they took a scan and ran some tests, they found cancerous cells in my cervix.”

“Isn’t that treatable?”

“Normally, it is. But the cells have spread, and they found a tumor attached to my lung on the scan.”

Next thing I know I’m wrapping my arms around my sister and pulling her to me. She rests her chin on my shoulder, then shifts her head to bury her face into it. Her tears soak into my shirt, but I don’t care. I hold my sister, thinking of all the moments in the past few weeks when I’ve noticed a shift in her appearance. In her mood. I hold her and think of all the times we’ve been there for each other.

After a few minutes, she loosens her arms around me, pulling away.

“So, what’s the treatment plan? I’m assuming they have one, right?” I’ve gone into planning mode. My tears haven’t exactly dried, but the initial shock has faded enough for me to start asking questions.

“I’m supposed to start the first round of chemo next week, then after eight weeks they want to do surgery to remove the tumor on my lung. Combined with the size and where it’s sitting, it’s too dangerous to remove it without shrinking it first.”

I nod and digest what she’s telling me. It’s hard to concentrate on her every word when my heart is still breaking with her news.

“Okay,” I tell her, lifting my hand to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. I slide onto the barstool next to her. “I’ll be there for you. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” Her bottom lip begins to wobble again and another tear spills from her eye. “But I won’t be able to do the treatment.”

“What do you mean? Ofcourseyou’re doing the treatment.”

“Well, since I started working freelance, only selling my pieces one at a time, I have no insurance of my own. I only have Steven’s medical insurance. And after my diagnosis, I found out they will only cover twenty percent of the chemotherapy and none of the surgery.”

“What the fuck?” My skin burns with anger.

“Yeah,” she chuckles. “Turns out our medical insurance isn’t that great.”

“I’ll give you what I can.” I don’t hesitate, trying to remember the amount of money I currently have sitting in my bank account. “It isn’t much, but it has to be worth something.”

With my uncle keeping me as junior lawyer at the firm, and with our brother tarnishing our family name, my income hasn’t exactly been up to par for a Harvard Law graduate.

“Treatments are thousands and thousands, Laurel. Not to mention the surgery alone will be insane. If Steven and I hadn’t used my trust that Mom and Dad left me to buy our house and pay off my tuition to pay for my master’s degree, we’d be able to afford it. But there’s simply nothing left.” My sister swipes at her cheeks. “I can’t ask you to pay for it, Laurel.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”

“No. I won’t allow you to go broke because of me.”

“It’s not as if you’re asking me to buy you an expensive purse or pay for you to go on some ridiculous trip,” I cry. “I can’t sit by and do nothing. We’ll figure out a way. What did Steven say? Surely he or his family can help.”

“His family never agreed to our marriage. We haven’t spoken to them in years.” She looks right at me. “We can’t ask them.”

“Okay.” I slap my hands on my lap and run my hands along my thighs. “We’ll talk to Frederick. Maybe he can?—"

“No,” she cuts me off. “I’m not asking him for money. The law firm is losing money by the week. Plus, I don’t want anyone else to know. At least not yet.”

“You have cancer, Roe.” My vocal admission makes me want to vomit. Somehow saying it out loud makes it even more real, as if that makes a difference. The cancer is still inside her, threatening to consume her.

“I’m aware,” she clips back with watery eyes. “That’s why it’s my decision on who gets to know and when.”

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