Page 47 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
“My thoughts exactly. How do these people end up in these marriages?” It had been a lesson she’d learned time and time again. Love only lasted so long before you sat across the table from your significant other, trying to figure out who got custody of the forks. But then she thought of Ella and something in her shifted. Ella made her wonder. She challenged Max’s sense of what might be possible and threw her preconceived notions about the long term out the window. After the debacle that was her and Rachel, she was pretty sure her exclusive entanglement days were over. But for Ella, she might be willing to step out onto a limb again. Thewhat-ifdangled and tempted.
She’d finished up the call with Sonya and took a moment to gather herself in the waiting area of the restaurant, which meant fidgeting, something she only did when in her mother’s presence.
“There you are,” she’d said dismissively when the host deposited her at the table.
She kissed her mother’s incredibly soft cheek and took in the familiar scent of her jasmine perfume, a gift her father presented her dutifully every Christmas.
“I am so sorry I’m late. I had a client who needed a last-minute scheduling miracle, but Sonya and I managed to work it out. Did you have a chance to look over the menu?”
“I already know the menu. Don’t you?” The Moroccan-inspired café was a favorite of her mother’s.
“Yes, actually, I do.” She swallowed her defenses, knowing they’d be no good to her here.
“Next time, I’d like it very much if you valued my time as much as you do your own.” She was still upset about Max’s late arrival. That was likely to last another ten minutes. She’d suck it up.
“Again, I’m sorry about that.” She moved them past it. “How have you been?”
“Busy. I’ve scaled back patient hours and want to spend more time on the research front.”
She smiled. “I know you love to lose yourself in a good trial.”
“We have three on the way, and I’m optimistic about the prospects of one in particular. I won’t bore you with the specifics.”
“You don’t bore me. I’m interested in hearing about your work.”
“I can’t imagine you want to talk about skin cell regrowth over lunch. Tell me about divorce. Surely, there are some dramatic stories from this week.”
“I do have one guy threatening to destroy property.”
“Barbaric. So is divorce by the way.” It was the same old tune. Not only was her mother unhappy about her journey into law, but she also hated her specialty. “Even if your father and I were at odds, we’d work it out. You don’t just quit.”
“That philosophy is not always practical or safe.”
She shrugged and sipped her water with fresh lemon. “People abuse the option. That’s my opinion. We’ll take the bread service, please.” She told the server. They paused to order the rest of their meal, and Max took a deep breath, preparing herself for the next hour of what would probably be small talk mixed with incremental judgment about various aspects of her life.
“I do have one piece of news,” her mother said once they were alone. She pursed her lips, which was a tell that she was uncomfortable.
“All right.”
“It seems that I’ll be the patient. At least for a little while.”
Max frowned. “You’ll be the patient. I don’t understand. Does that mean you’re sick?” The idea was so foreign. She’d never known her mother to have so much as a bad cold. She was immune to everything.
“It seems the cancer doctor has cancer.” She shook her head, a slight smile playing on her lips as she raised her glass for another sip.
“That’s not funny. I can’t tell if you’re serious.”
“I most certainly am. I was diagnosed with a rare form of liver cancer last month and will meet with my doctor quite soon.”
“And you’re just now telling me?” Max was as stunned as she’d ever been. “After a month?”
“Three weeks. I needed time to organize my life, my thoughts, and prepare for what’s ahead. I’ve done that and here we are.”
“Is it treatable?”
“Yes. The treatment plan is very sound, and I have every reason to believe my doctor’s protocol will go according to plan and we’ll put this behind us.” She delivered the information with the same matter-of-fact calm she would her afternoon grocery list.
“I’m so sorry,” Max said. It was all she had. “If you’re scared, that’s okay, Mom.”
