Nothing felt real. For days after my diagnosis, I walked around in a fog. I hadn’t yet told anyone about my cancer. The fear of what was happening to me was too real to face. I preferred to push it away, pretend like it didn’t exist and instead focus on other things. The only problem was, I couldn’t focus on anything. I was so foggy and distracted that I let things slip through the cracks.
My last PT session with Caleb was a mess. I barely remembered what we did. When he left that night, I knew he was angry with me, but I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anything. He had a check-up with Dr. McGee the next day, and I missed it. Caleb told me about it a week ago, but somehow, it slipped my mind, and I didn’t show up. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized I’d missed it.
I felt like shit about myself. Not only was I failing at my job but I was failing Caleb, who was the most important person in the world to me. I hated how confused he must have been. He didn’t know about my cancer, and I didn’t want him to. Still, I couldn’t just let things fall apart between us because I was sick. I refused to let that happen.
I took off work early and picked up some Chinese takeout. It was Caleb’s favorite, and I knew he’d love it. As I drove toward his apartment, I thought about what I would say. I couldn’t tell him the truth. Not yet. Instead, I had to explain my behavior without outright lying to him somehow. It wouldn’t be easy, but I was determined to try. My heart was racing as I walked up to his front door and knocked softly. I could hear his footsteps inside, and when the door swung open, I smiled.
It was my first genuine smile in days. Seeing Caleb was enough to ease my fears for just a moment. He frowned when he saw me, glancing down at the takeout containers in my hands.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Dinner,” I said, holding up the food. “You interested?”
“Sure.” He shrugged and moved aside.
I walked through the door and sat down on the couch, arranging the takeout containers on the coffee table. Caleb walked over to join me. He wasn’t using his crutches. Instead, he was moving slowly. I gasped when I saw him.
“Where are your crutches?”
“Dr. McGee says I’m doing well,” Caleb said. “My check-up yesterday was great.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” I said softly. Caleb just shrugged, so I pushed ahead. “What exactly did he say?”
“He thinks I’ll be back to normal in another month,” Caleb said. “He wants me to pick up the PT a bit. He said he sent his recommendations down to your office.”
“Oh,” I said, nodding. I didn’t remember if I received anything from Dr. McGee, and that made me feel even more guilty. “Well, that’s really great.”
“It is,” he said. “It’s great.”
“I know I said I would be there,” I said. “I just got distracted with work and time got away from me.”
“It’s probably for the best,” Caleb said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He sighed and sunk onto the couch beside me. He shook his head slowly from side to side. I frowned at the look on his face. I’d never seen him look so serious.
“I had a conversation with your father,” Caleb said. “Well, he had a conversation with me.”
“What the fuck did he say this time?” I asked, my anger already boiling to the surface. With everything I had going on, I didn’t have the patience to deal with my dad’s bullshit.
“He wants me to stay away from you,” Caleb said. “Same shit as before.”
“I don’t know why he keeps doing this,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m an adult. This is ridiculous.”
“He’s worried about you,” Caleb said softly.
I searched his face, surprised to see that there wasn’t a trace of anger there. Instead, he just looked sad. Normally, my father pissed him off more than anyone. Caleb could rant about my dad for hours without getting tired. It was often his favorite subject, and yet, he didn’t seem interested.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I didn’t realize how bad things were for you when I left,” he said. “When I left for military school, I thought you would be fine.”
“I was,” I said defensively. It was a lie. I wasn’t fine. Not at all.
“Don’t lie to me,” Caleb said.
“I was hurt,” I admitted. “But it was ten years ago. It doesn’t matter now.”