Page 890 of Not Over You

He is invited on every trip but declines every invitation. My mom relapses a couple of years later and starts up treatment again. Her prognosis is good, not as good as before, but if she does the treatment and maybe more surgery, she’ll be fine.

Cancer gave me the gift of my mother back in my life. It changed our relationship and made my life so much richer. Then, of course, it cruelly ripped her from me.

We cruise down the Seine in a small boat. My mother insists on coming to Paris at least once a year and I can’t argue that.

“Sweetie we should go to Greece next.”

“Mom, you have treatment, you can’t be away that long,” I say laughing at her lust for travel. She’s insatiable and sometimes I feel like she won’t be happy until she sees every last blade of grass and drop of water on the planet.

She waves a hand at me. “Oh, I stopped treatment,” she says like it’s no big deal.

“What do you mean?”

“About six weeks ago, after Portugal I just decided I’d had enough. I just want to live my life and not have to put up with being poked, prodded, and poisoned anymore.” Her smile is wide and peaceful.

“So, you don’t want to live a long life?”

“Honey, we are all on borrowed time if you think about it. Don’t be angry with me, I’m fine.”

She wasn’t fine.

All the chemo, radiation and surgeries, then three months later she was gone. When I got back from our trip, I cried for two days straight. Steven saw me crying but left me alone. He said he wanted to give me space.

“Please come on this trip with me?” I ask Steven. My mom feels crappy so I ask him to come on a pre-booked trip to the Bahamas. “It’s non-refundable.”

“Can’t Nat go with you?”

“No, she can’t just leave her family last minute. I know you have vacation time, just come with me, we need it. I need to get some space from mom and her over-positive attitude about dying.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says and I’m pleasantly shocked.

The trip is nice and we actually have fun and even have sex a few times. Something we haven’t done in over a year.

When we return, things seem to be somewhat back to normal and my mom hasn’t gotten any worse. A few weeks later I go on a scheduled book tour feeling okay about leaving her and Steven tells me it’s fine to go and that he’ll keep an eye on her. He’s always been supportive of my writing career, probably because it affords us a very comfortable life.

The tour is going great until Chicago. I pass out in a Starbucks while ordering coffee with my agent and am rushed to the nearest emergency room. When I wake, I’m in a small room and I feel tenderness in my pelvic area.

A nurse comes in and sees I’m awake and the look of complete pity on her face lets me know exactly what has happened. I’ve seen that look before.

“I was pregnant,” I say and she pats my hand. “I didn’t even know.”

“I’m so sorry, the doctor did a DNC and gave you some strong painkillers. I’ll go see if she’s available to talk,” she says and leaves the room.

My phone is on a table next to mine and there are a few messages from Lily telling me she’s canceled the rest of the tour even though it’s just two book store readings. I send her a message thanking her for getting me here. She apologizes for leaving before I woke up but because of my mom’s situation I know how triggering hospitals can be and Lily and I have talked about her fear of them at length.

When I return home a few days early, not only am I still recovering but I’m also met with glaring evidence of my husband’s affair as I walk in to see Val eating breakfast in our kitchen, in a robe.

“Shit,” she says.

“Shit is right,” I reply and never have I felt lower in my life.

After that, I drive to see my mother but she’s not home.

Me: Hey where are you?

Mom: I’m here.

She sends me the address to the hospice facility she’s chosen if things get bad. I know how much she wanted to be at home but I really thought we had more time.

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