Page 100 of You Had Me At Thirteen

Carla knocks on my door, popping her head around it as she pushes it open.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ I say, closing my laptop.

She smiles, but it’s short-lived. ‘Your mum wants to talk to you. Got a sec?’

‘Yeah, be there in a minute.’ Once Carla leaves, I gather all the papers from my desk, and head to Mum’s room.

When I enter, Carla is standing in one corner with her arms crossed over her chest, as my mum waves me over to her bed.

‘Wren, come sit. I need to talk to you about something.’ Mum pats the bed beside her.

Whatever she needs to talk to me about, it can wait until I’ve said everything I need to say. If I don’t take my chance now, I might not get another one. She may have weeks, maybe even days before she takes her last breath, but if I don’t do everything in my power to save her life, what kind of son am I?

I take a deep breath, wiping my hands over my shorts as I sit in the chair beside Mum’s bed. The stack of papers sits neatly on my lap, each one feeling heavier than it should. ‘Before you say anything,’ I say, taking my mum’s hand, ‘I need to talk to you about some other options I found online. There are plenty of alternative approaches we can take. I can print some more info out for you if this isn’t enough.’ I hold up the papers. ‘I’ll give you some time to read over all these. The sooner we start, the better.’

Mum puts her free hand up, and closes her eyes. ‘Wren, just stop, please. I can’t do it anymore.’

My shoulders sag. ‘Okay… I’m sorry. We can talk about it when you’re feeling a little better. Tomorrow maybe?’

Mum pulls her hand from mine and places both of them in her lap. ‘I’m not talking about the alternatives, Wren.’ Her voice is a whisper. ‘Dealing with cancer is what I’m talking about. I can’t do it anymore, baby. I’m tired.’ It’s then she looks at me again, her hazel eyes brimming with tears, her face gaunt, cheekbones almost poking through her thin skin.

It’s only now that I realise how sick she really is. I’ve spent most of the time since her diagnosis trying to convince myself that it’s not that bad. Even having Carla here still never really felt final. But I’ll be damned to fucking hell if I let her give in now.

My pulse beats in my ears as I search her face, trying to comprehend what the fuck she’s saying. ‘You’re giving up?’

‘It’s not giving up. I’m ready to go. It’s my time.’

I throw the papers on the floor next to my chair. ‘Bullshit, it’s not your time at all. We’ll find something, I promise. Just don’t give up yet. Please, Mum, I need you.’ Reaching for her clammy hand, I hold on to it for dear life. This isn’t happening.

Mum shakes her head, her tears spilling over and down her cheeks. ‘You don’t need me, sweetheart. You have your whole life ahead of you. I promise you’ll survive this.’

‘Of course I fucking need you. You’re my mum.’ I slump forward, bringing my forehead to the bed. How does she know I’ll survive it? I won’t. How do you survive something like that?

Mum strokes the back of my head. ‘There’s something else I need to talk to you about.’

Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than this.

‘What is it?’ I glance from my mum to Carla, but neither of them will meet my eyes. Carla sniffs and wipes her nose with a tissue, before she holds herself around the middle.

What the fuck is going on?

Mum sucks in a shaky breath, her bottom lip quivering a little. She takes my hand. ‘Listen, I just want you know that I… we… never meant to keep this from you but we didn’t want to ruin your final year of school.’

‘What are you talking about? Keep what from me?’

Mum glances at Carla, who gives her a tight smile and a nod of her head. ‘Your father and I decided about twelve months ago to separate—’

I snatch my hand from hers. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘Wren, please let me explain.’ Mum pleads with her eyes. ‘We did this for you.’ More tears come as she tries to explain her way out of this betrayal.

‘For me? How is keeping that a secret good for anyone?’

‘We wanted to tell you, but we wanted to wait until after graduation. It made sense, but now I’m not so sure.’ She swallows, wiping her cheeks with shaky hands. ‘That’s why your father hasn’t been around as much. After the first time he cheated—’

‘Cheated?’ My vision blurs as a cold sweat covers my body.

This just keeps getting better and better. I feel the blood literally drain from my face. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but if I had to explain how one feels, it would be just like this. My mouth is dry, my chest tight, and I can’t get enough oxygen in my lungs.

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