Page 133 of Things I Wish I Said
The thought never occurred to me before now, but it’s not too late for them. It’s still a possibility.
They’ll be a family, one without my disease and everything that comes with it constantly hovering over their head like a thundercloud waiting to strike.
“Thank you.” I hang up the phone and take one last look at the business card from Garry at Star Caskets, then tuck it back inside my desk.
I thought calling would take a weight of my shoulders, but it doesn’t. In fact, I’m not sure how to feel, other than one thousand poorer.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me I’ve yet to have breakfast, so I head into the kitchen, surprised to find Mom still hovering by the sink. Usually, she’s in her studio by now. Instead, she’s fixing a cup of tea and peering over at me with a look on her face that tells me she’s been waiting for a reason.
“Hey, honey. I wanted to make sure you were feeling better.” She crosses the space between us and places her hand on my forehead as I sit down in one of the rickety old kitchen chairs. “I was worried about you last night when we got home from dinner, and you were still in your room. I checked to see if you wanted to watch a movie, but you were already asleep.”
I was faking.
I shrug off her concern, along with her hand, and offer her a smile. “I’m fine. I was just tired. The heat yesterday took a lot out of me.”
This must appease her because Mom nods and returns to her tea while I grab one of the healthy, wild blueberry muffins she claims are chock-full of antioxidants but are actually kind of mushy and unappetizing.
“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something,” she says, taking her tea to the table.
“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you, too.”
“Oh, sure.” Mom smiles, then lifts her mug to her lips and takes a sip. “Dr. Hammond says that if we want to take part in the trial, we need to let her know by the end of the week, so I was wondering if you’ve given it any more thought?”
“Have you given my trip to LA more thought?” I ask, taking a bite of the muffin.
“Ryleigh.” Mom sighs, and I have my answer. Mom won’t risk it, even if I am dying.
Suddenly, I’m tired. Tired of pretending that I have a chance of beating this. Tired of hoping she’ll change her mind and allow me to go to the award. Tired of being the thing holding everyone back from living their lives.
“No.” I shake my head and push the muffin away.
Mom laughs. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean, I have thought about the trial, and the answer is no.”
Last night made me realize money isn’t the only factor in consideration. The truth of the matter is everyone is better off with me gone. Then they can move on, no more living in limbo. And that’s something Grayson’s money can’t buy.
Mom gapes. “Ryleigh, have you even looked into the research backing this? I really think—”
“I said no.”
“At least listen to the details before you shut me down,” Mom says, panic lacing her tone.
Like she listened to the details of how much this trip means to me?
I sigh and stare out the kitchen window, knowing I can’t win this fight. “Mom, we’ve tried everything. Chemo. Immunotherapy. They removed half my lung, and in the end, none of it was enough. None of it,” I say, returning my gaze to hers. “My cancer has only spread. Like it or not, it’s determined to kill me.”
“I know.”
“Then you know there’s no reason to believe this trial will work. At this point, we’re just prolonging the inevitable.”
“No.” Mom’s voice shakes, tears glistening in her eyes. “You’re still only stage two. You still have a chance.”
“I have only a thirty percent chance of surviving five years, and that’s if therapy works. Mom, it’s over. The fight is over.”
“It’s not over,” she says between gritted teeth, standing her ground like a wild animal guarding its lunch—with a startlingferociousness I’ve never seen before. “It’s never going to be over.”
I glance down at my barely eaten muffin and sigh. “So, what if this doesn’t work? Then, what?”
