Page 98 of Things I Wish I Said
I wonder what it’s like to be someone’s only hope and feel a pang of sympathy for him.
Mom sighs in a way that lets me know she’s done with the quiet, and when she puts her cup down in front of her, I brace for impact. Whatever’s on her mind is about to be on mine.
“I spoke with Dr. Hammond again this morning,” she says, toying with the handle of her mug.
She’s going to ask me about the trial; I know it.
“Oh?” I shove a chunk of melon in my mouth, so I have an excuse not to say more.
She nods. “There’s a new experimental trial she thinks you’d be a great candidate for.”
I stare at her, long and hard. In truth, I don’t want to participate in this trial. Nothing thus far has worked to minimize the cancer in my chest. There’s no reason to think this experiment will, either.
My fight is over. She knows it, and I know it. She just doesn’t want to admit it.
“As long as there’s air in her lungs, I’ll keep fighting.”
“How much will it cost?”
Mom starts at the question, her fork clanging off her plate. Clearly, cost was the last thing she expected me to ask about.
Until now, I never brought up the cost of my treatment. Mom acted like it was a nonissue. An inevitability, when really, spending the money on treatment was a choice, one that’s put her in so much debt I’m not sure she’ll ever recover.
Mom forces a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, well, I’m not sure,” she hedges. “It’s a combination of holistic treatment paired with a new drug, so I think the drug company is funding it.”
“So it’s free?” I ask, arching a brow.
Mom nods, unable to meet my eyes, which is how I’d know she’s lying even if I hadn’t overheard her. But if I say no to treatment, she’ll fight me on it.
When I played soccer, Mom always marveled at my tenacity, my determination and desire to win. It was as if she never knew where it came from. But I did. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, only Mom’s determination lies in two things: her work and keeping me alive.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, because I know it’s the only thing that will get her off my back.
Mom shifts in her seat, picking her mug back up and gripping it until her knuckles turn white. It’s not the answer she wanted, but it’s also not a no, so I can tell she doesn’t want to press me on it. At least not yet.
“What about the trip to the awards in LA?” I ask. “Have you given that any more thought? It’s only three weeks away.”
She takes a small sip of her coffee, and I can tell by her pinched expression she wants to dismiss it, but she’s worried if she does, I won’t consider the trial. It’s exactly the reaction I wanted. “I’ll think about it,” she says.
And here we are, at a stalemate. Both of us waiting for the other to give.
Chapter twenty-two
GRAYSON
I chuck my waterbottle in my bag, along with my helmet and bat. Reaching for the bottom pocket of my gear bag, I unzip it and slide out my phone. A glance at the screen reveals no notifications, which means I still haven’t heard from Ryleigh.
It’s been two days since the results of her scan. I’ve called at least half a dozen times and left messages, and still no reply. Nothing.
A heaviness settles in my chest I don’t want to acknowledge.
Her silence can mean only one thing, but I push these thoughts aside, unwilling to entertain them for even a second.
“Damn, it feels good to win again!” Cameron slaps me on the back, his shit-eating grin taking up half his face.
“Thanks to Grayson getting his head out of his ass,” Trent joins in, slinging his bag over one shoulder.
“You mean, thanks to Ryleigh.” Cameron glances back down at his gear. “I mean, that has to be the reason, right? You’ve madea complete one-eighty since she entered the picture. That can’t be a coincidence.”
