“At what cost?” I said tersely. “My mother had no quality of life because her treatments prevented her from living.”
“She had you and your dad. That’s quality.” Emma’s stern eyes challenged me as she leaned forward. “Are you saying you’d have wished her gone sooner?”
“I’d have wished her to be able to live until she died.”
“Everyone around you is going to fight. You’d be a bitch if you didn’t join in.”
Her words were like a slap in the face. I knew she was speaking the truth from her point of view. But I couldn’t hope for miracles or act like positive thinking would save me. I also didn’t want the lasting impression my kids had of me to be a comatose mother who couldn’t even hold their hands.
Finally, our food came, and I was relieved at the distraction.
“Let’s move on to happier topics. Tell me…what sorts of delicious sordid things did you and Brayden do last night.”
And like that, my mood changed. I felt my cheeks flush.
“Ooh, that sordid, huh? Your blush says it all.” Emma laughed.
“It was like before kids.”
“Ooh…even better. Wanton. Dirty.” She sighed. “I miss that.”
“I did too. I was afraid since I didn’t look the same, that Brayden wouldn’t find me attractive.”
“That dress I got you says differently.”
I blushed again. “He seemed to like the extra bits.”
“Men like curves. I think it’s an instinct forged back in the primal caveman days.”
I laughed and let myself relax into the conversation. Yes, I had a lot on my mind, but I couldn’t let the joy of now get ruined by worry. If I was committed to living until the end, whether that came from cancer sooner, or old age later, I needed to be present in the moment.
We had lunch and shared a dessert, and then we walked through the shops at Pikes Place. It was loaded with tourists and not a place we usually went, but it was fun to see the sights.
When it was time to part to run errands before picking up the kids, Emma gave me a hug.
“Remember, whatever you need, just ask. I’ll be pissed if you don’t.”
“I’ll ask.”
“Promise me.” She gave me a little shake.
“I promise.”
That evening Brayden arrived home in time for dinner. He smiled and played with the kids, but I could see the stress in his eyes.
When the kids were in bed, he went to his home office. The old resentment flared that he’d abandon me for work , but I did my damnedest to control it. I let him work for an hour and then peeked my head in.
“How’s it going?”
He turned to look at me, and I could see that he felt like he was being torn in two. He wanted to be here for me and the kids, but his job called him too.
“We’re financially secure, Brayden,” I said because that worry was for naught.
He poked the side of his head with his index finger. “I know that here, but … businesses fail…stocks fall ...economies collapse…”
I walked up to him and looked down at what he was working on. It appeared to be the current projects the company was working on.
“Are you worried your staff can’t cover for you?” I asked.